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Title: The Wild Elephant and the Method of Capturing and Taming it in Ceylon
Author: Tennent, James Emerson, Sir
Language: English
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THE
WILD ELEPHANT.
LONDON
PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO.
NEW-STREET SQUARE
[Illustration: AN ELEPHANT CORRAL.]
THE
WILD ELEPHANT
AND
_THE METHOD OF CAPTURING
AND TAMING IT IN
CEYLON_.
BY
SIR J. EMERSON TENNENT, BART.
K.C.S. LL.D. F.R.S. &c.
AUTHOR OF “CEYLON, AN ACCOUNT OF THE ISLAND,
PHYSICAL, HISTORICAL, AND TOPOGRAPHICAL,”
ETC.
LONDON:
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1867.
_TO_
MY INTELLIGENT COMPANION
IN MANY OF THE JOURNEYS THROUGHOUT THE MOUNTAINS AND
FORESTS OF CEYLON, IN THE COURSE OF WHICH MUCH
OF THE INFORMATION CONTAINED IN THIS
VOLUME WAS COLLECTED;
_TO_
MAJOR SKINNER,
CHIEF COMMISSIONER OF ROADS AND PUBLIC WORKS,
ETC., ETC.
ONE OF THE MOST EXPERIENCED AND VALUABLE SERVANTS OF
THE CROWN;
IT IS INSCRIBED,
IN THE HOPE THAT IT MAY RECALL TO HIM THE
PLEASANT MEMORIES WHICH IT
AWAKES IN ME.
PREFACE.
In this volume, the chapters descriptive of the structure and habits
of the wild elephant are reprinted for the sixth time from a larger
work,[1] published originally in 1859. Since the appearance of the
First Edition, many corrections and much additional matter have been
supplied to me, chiefly from India and Ceylon, and will be found
embodied in the following pages.
To one of these in particular I feel bound to direct attention. In the
course of a more enlarged essay on the zoology of Ceylon,[2] amongst
other proofs of a geological origin for that island, distinct from
that of the adjacent continent of India, as evidenced by peculiarities
in the flora and fauna of each respectively, I had occasion to advert
to a discovery which had been recently announced by Temminck in
his _Survey of the Dutch possessions in the Indian Archipelago_,[3]
that the elephant which abounds in Sumatra (although unknown in the
adjacent island of Java), and which had theretofore been regarded as
identical in species with the Indian one, has been found to possess
peculiarities, in which it differs as much from the elephant of India
as the latter does from its African congener. On this new species, to
which the natives give the name of “_gadjah_,” TEMMINCK has conferred
the scientific designation of the _Elephas Sumatranus_. The points
which entitle it to this distinction he enumerates minutely in the
work[4] before alluded to, and they have been summarized as follows by
Prince Lucien Bonaparte.
“This species is perfectly intermediate between the Indian and African,
especially in the shape of the skull, and will certainly put an end to
the distinction between _Elephas_ and _Loxodon_, with those who admit
that anatomical genus; since although the crowns of the teeth of _E.
Sumatranus_ are more like the Asiatic animal, still the less numerous
undulated ribbons of enamel are nearly quite as wide as those forming
the lozenges of the African. The number of pairs of false ribs (which
alone vary, the true ones being always six) is fourteen, one less
than in the _Africanus_, _one_ more than in the _Indicus_; and so
it is with the dorsal vertebræ, which are twenty in the _Sumatranus_
(_twenty-one_ and _nineteen_ in the others), whilst the new species
agrees with _Africanus_ in the number of sacral vertebræ (_four_), and
with _Indicus_ in that of the caudal ones, which are _thirty-four_.”[5]
Professor SCHLEGEL of Leyden, in a paper lately submitted by him to
the Royal Academy of Sciences of Holland, (the substance of which he
obligingly communicated to me, through Baron Bentinck the Netherlands
Minister at this Court), confirmed the identity of the Ceylon
elephant with that found in the Lampongs of Sumatra. The osteological
comparison of which TEMMINCK has given the results was, he says,
conducted by himself with access to four skeletons of the latter; and
the more recent opportunity of comparing a living Sumatran elephant
with one from Bengal, served to establish other though minor points
of divergence. The Indian species is more robust and powerful; the
proboscis longer and more slender; and the extremity, (a point in which
the elephant of Sumatra resembles that of Africa,) is more flattened
and provided with coarser and longer hair than that of India.
Professor SCHLEGEL, adverting to the large export of elephants from
Ceylon to the Indian continent, which has been carried on from
time immemorial, suggests the caution with which naturalists, in
investigating this question, should first satisfy themselves whether
the elephants they examine are really natives of the mainland,
or whether they have been brought to it from the islands. “The
extraordinary fact,” he observes in his letter to me, “of the identity
thus established between the elephants of Ceylon and Sumatra, and the
points in which they are found to differ from that of Bengal, leads to
the question whether all the elephants of the Asiatic continent belong
to one single species; or whether these vast regions may not produce in
some quarter as yet unexplored the one hitherto found only in the two
islands referred to? It is highly desirable that naturalists who have
the means and opportunity, should exert themselves to discover, whether
any traces are to be found of the Ceylon elephant in the Dekkan; or of
that of Sumatra in Cochin China or Siam.”
To me the establishment of a fact so conclusively confirmatory of the
theory I had ventured to broach, was productive of great satisfaction.
But in an essay by DR. FALCONER, since published in the _Natural
History Review_ for January 1863, “On the Living and Extinct Species of
Elephants,” he adduces reasons for questioning the accuracy of these
views as to _Elephas Sumatranus_. The idea of a specific distinction
between the elephants of India and Ceylon, Dr. Falconer shows to have
been propounded as far back as 1834, by Mr. B. H. Hodgson, the eminent
ethnologist and explorer of the zoology of Nepal; Dr. Falconer’s own
inspection however of the examples of both as preserved in the Museum
of Leyden, not only did not lead him to accept the later conclusion of
SCHLEGEL and TEMMINCK, but induced him to doubt the correctness of the
statements published by the Prince of Canino, both as to the external
and the osteological characters of the Indian elephant. As to the
former, he declares that the differences between it and the elephant
of Ceylon are so trifling, as not to exceed similar peculiarities
observable between elephants taken in different regions of continental
India, where an experienced mahout will tell at a glance, whether a
newly captured animal was taken in the Sal forests of the North-Western
Provinces, in Assam, in Silhet, Chittagong, Tipperah, or Cuttack. The
osteological distinctions and the odontography, Dr. Falconer contends,
are insufficient to sustain the alleged separateness of species. He
equally discredits the alleged differences regarding the ribs and
dorsal vertebræ, and he concludes that, “on a review of the whole case,
the evidence in every aspect appears to him to fail in showing that the
elephant of Ceylon and Sumatra is of a species distinct from that of
continental India.”[6] He thinks it right, however, to add, that the
subject is one which “should be thoroughly investigated,” as the hasty
assumption that the elephants of Ceylon and Sumatra belong to distinct
species has been put forward to support the conjecture of a geological
formation for the island of Ceylon distinct from that of the mainland
of India; a proposition to which Dr. Falconer is not prepared to accede.
Having ventured to originate the latter theory, and having sustained
it by Schlegel’s authority as regards the elephant of Sumatra, I think
it is incumbent on me to give becoming prominence to the opposite
view entertained by one so eminently entitled to consideration as Dr.
Falconer.
In the course of my observations on the structure and functions of the
elephant, I have ventured an opinion that an animal of such ponderous
and peculiar construction, is formed chiefly for progression by easy
and steady paces, and is too weighty and unwieldy to leap, at least to
any considerable height or distance. But this opinion I felt bound to
advance with reserve, as I had seen in an interesting article in the
_Colombo Observer_ for March 1866, descriptive of a recent corral, the
statement that an infuriated elephant had “fairly leaped a barrier 15
feet high, only carrying away the upper crossbeam with a crash.” (See
p. 40.) Doubtful of some inaccuracy in the measurements, I took the
precaution of writing to Mr. Ferguson, the editor, to solicit further
enquiry. Since the following pages have been printed, I have received
from that gentleman the correction, which I now subjoin.
“My dear Sir Emerson,—I have just had a letter from Mr. Samuel
Jayetileke, the Cutchery Modliar of Kornegalle, in reply to my queries
about the height of the fence over which the elephant sprang. The
result is the usual one whenever exact measurements are substituted
for guess-work: I stated 15 feet as the height of the fence, and
this was the information given to me at the time. But the report of
Kumbowattewene, the Ratemahat-meya who has since gone to measure the
place, is, that where the elephant leaped over, the height was 12 feet.
The exact height of the leap was however only 9 feet; for besides that
in his rush he knocked away the top bar, it is found that in the corner
at which he escaped, there is a mound formed by a white ant’s nest, two
and a half feet high, on which he must have climbed to help him over. I
trust this information may be in time to prevent my original statement
from going forth without modification in your new book. The leap is
still a pretty good one.—Yours faithfully, A. M. FERGUSON, _Observer
Office_, Colombo, December 14, 1866.”
J. EMERSON TENNENT.
TEMPO MANOR, ENNISKILLEN:
_October 1, 1866_.
CONTENTS.
PART I.
_HABITS IN A STATE OF NATURE._
CHAPTER I.
STRUCTURE AND FUNCTIONS.
PAGE
Vast numbers in Ceylon 4
Derivation of the word “elephant,” _note_ _ib._
Antiquity of the trade in elephants 5
Numbers now diminishing. _ib._
Mischief done by them to crops _ib._
Ivory scarce in Ceylon 6
Conjectures as to the absence of tusks 7
Elephant a harmless animal 9
Alleged antipathies to other animals 11
Fights with each other 15
The foot its chief weapon 16
Use of the tusks in a wild state doubtful 17
Anecdote of sagacity in an elephant at Kandy 19
Difference between African and Indian species 20
Native ideas of perfection in an elephant 21
Blotches on the skin 22
White elephants not unknown in Ceylon 23
CHAPTER II.
HABITS WHEN WILD.
Water, but not heat, essential to elephants 25
Sight limited 26
Caution 26
Smell acute 27
Hearing good _ib._
Cries of the elephant 27
Trumpeting 28
Booming noise 29
Height, exaggerated 30
Facility of stealthy motion 31
Ancient delusion as to the joints of the leg 32
Its exposure by Sir Thos. Browne _ib._
Its perpetuation by poets and others 35
Position of the elephant in sleep 38
An elephant killed on its feet 39
Mode of lying down 40
Its gait a shuffle _ib._
Power of climbing mountains 41
Facilitated by the joint of the knee 43
Mode of descending declivities, _note_ _ib._
A “herd” is a family 45
Attachment to their young 46
Suckled indifferently by the females _ib._
A “rogue” elephant 47
Their cunning and vice 48
Injuries done by them 49
The leader of a herd a tusker 50
Bathing and nocturnal gambols, description of a scene
by Major Skinner 51
Method of swimming 55
Internal anatomy imperfectly known 56
Faculty of storing water 58
Peculiarity of the stomach 59
The food of the elephant 63
Sagacity in search of it 64
Unexplained dread of fences 65
Its spirit of inquisitiveness 67
Anecdotes illustrative of its curiosity _ib._
Estimate of sagacity 68
Singular conduct of a herd during thunder _ib._
An elephant feigning death 70
_Appendix._—Narratives of natives, as to encounters with
rogue elephants 71
CHAPTER III.
ELEPHANT SHOOTING.
Vast numbers shot in Ceylon 77
Revolting details of elephant killing in Africa, _note_ 78
Fatal spots at which to aim 79
Structure of the bones of the head _ib._
Wounds which are certain to kill 80
Attitudes when surprised 83
Peculiar movements when reposing 84
Habits when attacked 85
Sagacity of native trackers 86
Courage and agility of the elephants in escape 87
Worthlessness of the carcass 89
_Note._—Singular recovery from a wound 90
PART II.
_MODE OF CAPTURE AND TRAINING._
CHAPTER I.
AN ELEPHANT CORRAL.
Early method of catching elephants 96
Capture in pit-falls, _note_ _ib._
By means of decoys 97
Panickeas—their courage and address _ib._
Their sagacity in following the elephant _ib._
Mode of capture by the noose 99
Mode of taming 100
Method of leading the elephants to the coast 101
Process of embarking them at Manaar 102
Method of capturing a whole herd 103
The “keddah” in Bengal described 104
Process of enclosing a herd _ib._
Process of capture in Ceylon 105
An elephant corral and its construction 105
An elephant hunt in Ceylon, 1847 106
The town and district of Kornegalle _ib._
The rock of Aetagalla 107
Forced labour of the corral in former times 110
Now given voluntarily 111
Form of the enclosure 112
Method of securing a wild herd 114
Scene when driving them into the corral 116
A failure _ib._
An elephant drove by night 118
Singular scene in the corral 119
Excitement of the tame elephants, _note_ _ib._
CHAPTER II.
THE CAPTIVE.
A night scene 121
Morning in the corral _ib._
Preparations for securing the captives 122
The “cooroowe,” or noosers _ib._
The tame decoys 123
First captive tied up 124
Singular conduct of the wild elephants 126
Furious attempts of the herd to escape 127
Courageous conduct of the natives 128
Variety of disposition exhibited by the herd 131
Extraordinary contortions of the captives _ib._
Water withdrawn from the stomach 133
Instinct of the decoys _ib._
Conduct of the noosers 136
The young ones and their actions 137
Noosing a “rogue,” and his death 138
Instinct of flies in search of carrion, _note_ 139
Strange scene 140
A second herd captured 142
Their treatment of a solitary elephant 143
A magnificent female elephant 144
Her extraordinary attitudes _ib._
Wonderful contortions 145
Taking the captives out of the corral 147
Their subsequent treatment and training 148
Grandeur of the scene _ib._
Story of young pet elephant 149
CHAPTER III.
TRAINING AND CONDUCT IN CAPTIVITY.
Alleged superiority of the Indian to the African elephant—not
true 150
Ditto of Ceylon elephant to Indian 152
Process of training in Ceylon 155
Allowed to bathe 156
Difference of disposition 158
Sudden death of “broken heart” 160
First employment treading clay 161
Drawing a waggon _ib._
Dragging timber _ib._
Sagacity in labour _ib._
Mode of raising stones 162
Strength in throwing down trees exaggerated _ib._
Piling timber 163
Not uniform in habits of work 164
Lazy if not watched 165
Obedience to keeper from affection, not fear _ib._
Change of keeper—story of child 166
Ear for sounds and music 167
_Ur-re! note_ _ib._
Endurance of pain 168
Docility 169
Working elephants, delicate 170
Deaths in Government stud 171
Diseases 172
Subject to tooth-ache _ib._
Question of the value of labour of an elephant 174
Food in captivity, and cost 175
Breed in captivity 176
Age 177
Theory of M. Fleurens _ib._
No dead elephants found 179
Sindbad’s story 181
_Appendix._—Passage from Ælian 183
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
View of an Elephant Corral _Frontispiece_
Brain of the Elephant 26
The Trunk as figured in the fifteenth century 28
Bones of the Fore-leg 41
Elephant descending a Hill 44
Elephant’s Well 55
Elephant’s Stomach, showing the Water-cells 59
Elephant’s Trachea 60
Water-cells in the Stomach of the Camel 62
Section of the Elephant’s Skull 80
Ground Plan and Fence of a Corral 112
Noosing Wild Elephants _to face_ 124
Mode of tying an Elephant 126
His Struggles for Freedom 127
Impotent Fury 130
Singular Contortions of an Elephant 132
Attitudes of Captives _to face_ 134
Obstinate Resistance 135
Attitude for Defence 147
Figures of the African and Indian Elephants on Greek and
Roman Coins 151
Medal of Numidia 156
Modern Hendoo _ib._
_PART I._
STRUCTURE AND FUNCTIONS.
THE
WILD ELEPHANT
CHAPTER I.
STRUCTURE AND FUNCTIONS.
During my residence in Ceylon, I had on two occasions opportunities of
witnessing the operation on a grand scale, of capturing wild elephants,
intended to be trained for the Government service in the establishment
of the Civil Engineer and Commissioner of Roads;—and in the course of
my frequent journeys through the interior of the island, I succeeded
in collecting so many facts relative to the habits of these animals so
interesting in a state of nature, as enable me not only to add to the
information previously possessed, but to correct some of the fallacies
popularly entertained regarding their disposition and instincts. These
particulars I am anxious to place on record before proceeding to
describe the scenes I allude to, during the progress of the elephant
hunts in the district of the Seven Korles, at which I was present in
1846, and again in 1847.
With the exception of the narrow but densely inhabited belt of
cultivated land, that extends along the seaborde from Chilaw on the
western coast towards Tangalle on the south-east, there is no part of
Ceylon in which elephants may not be said to abound; even close to the
environs of the most populous localities of the interior. They frequent
both the open plains and the deep forests; and their footsteps are to
be seen wherever food and shade, vegetation and water,[7] allure them,
alike on the summits of the loftiest mountains, and on the borders of
the tanks and lowland streams.
From time immemorial the Singhalese have been taught to capture and
tame them, and the export of elephants from Ceylon to India has been
going on without interruption from the period of the first Punic
War.[8] In later times in all forests elephants were the property of
the Kandyan crown; and their capture or slaughter without the royal
permission was classed amongst grave offences in the criminal code.
In recent years there is reason to believe that their numbers have
become considerably reduced. They have entirely disappeared from
localities in which they were formerly numerous;[9] smaller herds have
been taken in the periodical captures for the public service, and
hunters returning from the chase report them to be growing year by year
more and more scarce. In consequence of this diminution the natives in
some parts of the island have even suspended the ancient practice of
keeping watchers and fires by night to scare away elephants from their
growing crops.[10] The opening of roads too in the hill districts,
and the clearing of the mountain forests of Kandy for the cultivation
of coffee, have forced the animals to retire to the low country,
where again they have been followed by large parties of European
sportsmen; and the Singhalese themselves, being more freely provided
with arms than in former times, have assisted in swelling the annual
slaughter.[11]
Had the motive that incites to the destruction of the elephant in
Africa and India prevailed in Ceylon, that is, had the elephants there
been provided with tusks, they would long since have been annihilated
for the sake of the ivory.[12] But it is a curious fact that, whilst
in Africa and India both sexes have tusks,[13] with some slight
disproportion in the size of those of the females; in Ceylon, not one
elephant in a hundred is found with tusks, and the few that possess
them are exclusively males. Nearly all, however, have those stunted
processes called _tushes_, about ten or twelve inches in length and
one or two in diameter. These I have observed them to use in loosening
earth, stripping off bark, and snapping asunder small branches and
climbing plants; and hence tushes are seldom seen without a groove worn
into them near their extremities.[14]
Amongst other surmises more ingenious than sound, the general
absence of tusks in the elephant of Ceylon has been associated with
the profusion of rivers and streams in the island; whilst it has
been thrown out as a possibility that in Africa, where water is
comparatively scarce, the animal is equipped with these implements in
order to assist it in digging wells in the sand and in raising the
juicy roots of the mimosas and succulent plants for the sake of their
moisture. In support of this hypothesis, it has been observed, that
whilst the tusks of the Ceylon species, which are never required for
such uses, are slender, graceful and curved, seldom exceeding fifty or
sixty pounds’ weight, those of the African elephant are straight and
thick, weighing occasionally 150 pounds, and even 300 pounds.[15] But
it is manifestly inconsistent with the idea that tusks were given to
the elephant to assist in digging for food, to find that the females
are less bountifully supplied with them than the males, whilst
the necessity for their use extends alike to both sexes. The same
consideration serves to demonstrate the fallacy of the conjecture, that
the tusks of the elephant were given as weapons of offence, for if
such were the case the vast majority of them in Ceylon, males as well
as females, would be left helpless in presence of an assailant. But
although in their conflicts with one another, those which are provided
with tusks may occasionally push clumsily with them at an opponent, it
is a misapprehension to imagine that tusks are designed, as has been
stated, to serve “in warding off the attacks of the wily tiger and
the furious rhinoceros, often securing the victory by one blow which
transfixes the assailant to the earth.”[16]
So peaceable and harmless is the life of the elephant, that nature
appears to have left it unprovided with any special weapon of
offence: the trunk is too delicate an organ to be rudely employed in
a conflict with other animals, and although on an emergency it may
push or gore with its tusks (to which the French have hastily given
the designation of “_défenses_”), their almost vertical position,
added to the difficulty of raising its head above the level of the
shoulder, is inconsistent with the idea of their being designed for
attack, since it is impossible for the animal to deliver an effectual
blow, or to “wield” its tusks as the deer and the buffalo can wield
their horns.[17] Nor is it easy to conceive under what circumstances an
elephant could have a hostile encounter with a rhinoceros or a tiger,
since their respective pursuits in a state of nature can in no way
conflict.
Towards man the elephant evinces shyness, arising from love of solitude
and dislike of intrusion; any alarm exhibited at his appearance may be
reasonably traced to the slaughter which has reduced their numbers;
and as some evidence of this, it has always been observed in Ceylon
that an elephant manifests greater impatience of the presence of a
white man than of a native. Were its instincts to carry it further, or
were it influenced by any feeling of animosity or malignity, it must
be apparent that, as against the prodigious numbers that inhabit the
forests of the island, man would wage an unequal contest, and that of
the two, one or other must long since have been reduced to a helpless
minority.
Official testimony is not wanting in confirmation of this view: in
the returns of 108 coroner’s inquests in Ceylon, during five years
from 1849 to 1855 inclusive, held in cases of death occasioned by wild
animals, 15 are recorded as having been caused by buffaloes, 6 by
crocodiles, 2 by boars, 1 by a bear, and 68 by serpents (the great
majority of the last class of sufferers being women and children, who
had been bitten during the night), and 16 by elephants. Little more
than three fatal accidents occurring annually on the average of five
years, is certainly a very small proportion in a population estimated
at a million and a half, in an island abounding with wild elephants,
with which, independently of casual encounters, voluntary conflicts
are daily stimulated by the love of sport or the hope of gain. Were
the elephants instinctively vicious or even highly irritable in their
temperament, the destruction of human life under the circumstances
must have been infinitely greater. It must also be taken into account,
that some of the accidents recorded may have occurred in the rutting
season, when even tame elephants are subject to fits of temporary fury,
known in India by the term _must_, in Ceylon _mudda_,—a paroxysm which
speedily passes away, but during the fury of which it is dangerous even
for the mahout who has charge of them to approach those ordinarily the
gentlest and most familiar.
Again, the elephant is said to “entertain an extraordinary dislike to
all quadrupeds; that dogs running near it produce annoyance; that it
is alarmed if a hare start from her form;” and from Pliny to Buffon
every naturalist has asserted its supposed aversion to swine.[18]
These alleged antipathies are in a great degree, if not altogether,
imaginary. The habits of the elephant are essentially harmless, its
wants lead to no rivalry with other animals, and the food to which
it is most attached flourishes in such luxuriance that abundance of
it is obtained without an effort. In the quiet solitudes of Ceylon,
elephants may be seen browsing peacefully in the immediate vicinity
of other animals, and often in close contact with them. I have seen
groups of deer and wild buffaloes reclining in the sandy bed of a
river in the dry season, and elephants plucking the branches above and
beside them. They show no impatience in the company of the elk, the
bear, and the wild hog; and on the other hand, I have never discovered
an instance in which these animals have evinced any apprehension of
the elephant. Its natural timidity, however, is such that it becomes
alarmed on the appearance in the jungle of any animal with whose form
it is not familiar. It is said to be afraid of the horse; but from my
own experience, I should say it is the horse that is disquieted at
the aspect of the elephant. In the same way, from some unaccountable
impulse, the horse has an antipathy to the camel, and evinces extreme
impatience, both of the sight and the smell of that animal.[19] When
enraged, an elephant will not hesitate to charge a rider on horseback;
but it is against the man, not against the horse, that his fury is
directed; and no instance has been ever known of his wantonly assailing
a horse. A horse belonging to the late Major Rogers[20] had run away
from his groom, and was found some considerable time afterwards grazing
quietly with a herd of elephants. In DE BRY’S splendid collection of
travels, however, there is included _The voyage of a certain Englishman
to Cambay_; in which the author asserts that at Agra, in the year 1607,
he was present at a spectacle given by the viceregent of the great
Mogul, in the course of which he saw an elephant destroy two horses,
by seizing them in its trunk, and crushing them with his tusks and
feet.[21] But this display was avowedly an artificial one, and the
creature must have been cruelly trained and tutored for the occasion.
Pigs are constantly to be seen feeding about the stables of tame
elephants, which manifest no repugnance to them. As to smaller animals,
the elephant undoubtedly evinces uneasiness at the presence of a dog,
but this is referable to the same cause as its impatience of a horse,
namely, that neither is habitually seen by it in the forest; and it
would be idle to suppose that this feeling could amount to hostility
against a creature incapable of inflicting on it the slightest
injury.[22] The truth I apprehend to be that, when they meet, the
impudence and impertinences of the dog are offensive to the gravity of
the elephant, and incompatible with his love of solitude and noiseless
repose. Or, as regards the horse and the dog, may it be assumed as an
evidence of the sagacity of the elephant, that the only two animals
to which it manifests an antipathy, are the two which it has seen
only in the company of its greatest enemy, man? One instance has
certainly been attested to me by an eye-witness, in which the trunk
of an elephant was seized in the teeth of a Scotch terrier, and such
was the alarm of the huge creature that it came at once to its knees.
The dog repeated the attack, and on every renewal of it the elephant
retreated in terror, holding its trunk above its head, and kicking at
the terrier with its fore feet. It would have turned to flight but for
the interference of its keeper.
Major Skinner, formerly commissioner of roads in Ceylon, whose official
duties in constructing highways involved the necessity of his being in
the jungle for months together, always found that, by night or by day,
the barking of a dog which accompanied him was sufficient to put a herd
of wild elephants to flight. On the whole, therefore, I am of opinion
that in a state of nature the elephant lives on terms of amity with
every animal in the forest, that it neither regards them as its foes,
nor provokes their hostility by its acts; and that, with the exception
of man, its greatest enemy is a fly!
These current statements as to the supposed animosity of the elephant
to minor animals originated with Ælian and Pliny, who had probably an
opportunity of seeing, what may at any time be observed, that when
a captive elephant is picketed beside a post, the domestic animals,
goats, sheep, and cattle, will annoy and irritate it by their audacity
in making free with its provender; but this is an evidence in itself of
the little instinctive dread which such comparatively puny creatures
entertain of one so powerful and yet so gentle.
Amongst elephants themselves, jealousy and other causes of irritation
frequently occasion contentions between individuals of the same herd;
but on such occasions their general habit is to strike with their
trunks, and to bear down their opponents with their heads. It is
doubtless correct that an elephant, when prostrated by the force and
fury of an antagonist of its own species, is often wounded by the
downward pressure of the tusks, which in any other position it would
be almost impossible to use offensively.[23]
Mr. Mercer, who in 1846 was the principal civil officer of Government
at Badulla, sent me a jagged fragment of an elephant’s tusk, about five
inches in diameter, and weighing between twenty and thirty pounds,
which had been brought to him by some natives, who, being attracted
by a noise in the jungle, witnessed a combat between a tusker and one
without tusks, and saw the latter with his trunk seize one of the tusks
of his antagonist and wrench from it the portion in question, which
measured two feet in length.
Here the trunk was shown to be the more powerful offensive weapon of
the two; but I apprehend that the chief reliance of the elephant for
defence is on its ponderous weight, the pressure of its foot being
sufficient to crush any minor assailant after being prostrated by means
of its trunk. Besides, in using its feet for this purpose, it derives a
wonderful facility from the peculiar formation of the knee-joint in the
hind leg, which, enabling it to swing the hind feet forward close to
the ground, assists it to toss the body alternately from foot to foot,
till deprived of life.[24]
A sportsman who had partially undergone this operation, having been
seized by a wounded elephant but escaped from its fury, described to me
his sufferings as he was thus flung back and forward between the hind
and fore feet of the animal, which ineffectually attempted to trample
him at each concussion, and abandoned him without inflicting serious
injury.
Knox, in describing the execution of criminals by the state elephants
of the former kings of Kandy, says, “they will run their teeth
(_tusks_) through the body, and then tear it in pieces and throw it
limb from limb;” but a Kandyan chief, who was witness to these scenes,
assured me that the elephant never once applied its tusks, but, placing
its foot on the prostrate victim, plucked off his limbs in succession
by a sudden movement of the trunk. If the tusks were designed to be
employed offensively, some alertness would naturally be exhibited in
using them; but in numerous instances where sportsmen have fallen
into the power of a wounded elephant, they have escaped through the
failure of the enraged animal to strike them with its tusks, even when
stretched upon the ground.[25]
But here there arises a further and a very curious enquiry, as to
the specific objects in the economy of the elephant, to which its
tusks are conducive. Placed as it is in Ceylon, in the midst of the
most luxuriant profusion of its favourite food, in close proximity at
all times to abundant supplies of water, and with no natural enemies
against whom to protect itself, it is difficult to conjecture any
probable utility which it can derive from such appendages. Their
absence is unaccompanied by any inconvenience to the individuals in
whom they are wanting; and as regards the few who possess them, the
only operations in which I am aware of their tusks being employed in
relation to the habits of the animal, is to assist in ripping open the
stem of the jaggery palms and young palmyras to extract the farinaceous
core; and in splitting up the juicy shaft of the plantain. Whilst the
tuskless elephant crushes the latter under foot, thereby soiling it and
wasting its moisture; the other, by opening it with the point of its
tusk, performs the operation with delicacy and apparent ease.
These, however, are trivial and almost accidental advantages: on the
other hand, owing to irregularities in their growth, the tusks are
sometimes an impediment to the animal in feeding;[26] and in more than
one instance in the Government studs, tusks which had so grown as to
approach and cross one another at the extremities, have had to be
relieved by the saw; the contraction of space between them so impeding
the free action of the trunk as to prevent the animal from conveying
branches to its mouth.[27]
It is true that in captivity, and after a due course of training, the
elephant discovers a new use for its tusks when employed in moving
stones and piling timber; so much so that a powerful one will raise and
carry on them a log of half a ton weight or more. One evening, whilst
riding in the vicinity of Kandy, towards the scene of the massacre
of Major Davie’s party in 1803, my horse evinced some excitement at
a noise which approached us in the thick jungle, and which consisted
of a repetition of the ejaculation _urmph! urmph!_ in a hoarse and
dissatisfied tone. A turn in the forest explained the mystery, by
bringing me face to face with a tame elephant, unaccompanied by any
attendant. He was labouring painfully to carry a heavy beam of timber,
which he balanced across his tusks, but the pathway being narrow, he
was forced to bend his head to one side to permit the load to pass
endways; and the exertion and this inconvenience combined led him to
utter the dissatisfied sounds which disturbed the composure of my
horse. On seeing us halt, the elephant raised his head, reconnoitred
us for a moment, then flung down the timber, and voluntarily forced
himself backwards among the brushwood so as to leave a passage, of
which he expected us to avail ourselves. My horse hesitated: the
elephant observed it, and impatiently thrust himself still deeper into
the jungle, repeating his cry of _urmph!_ but in a voice evidently
meant to encourage us to advance. Still the horse trembled; and anxious
to observe the instinct of the two sagacious animals, I laid the rein
upon its neck and forbore any interference: again the elephant of his
own accord wedged himself further in amongst the trees, and manifested
some impatience that we did not pass him. At length the horse moved
forward; and when we were fairly past the elephant I looked back and
saw the wise creature stoop and take up its unwieldy burthen, trim
and balance it on its tusks, and resume its route as before, hoarsely
snorting its discontented remonstrance.
Between the African elephant and that of Ceylon, with the exception of
the striking peculiarity of the infrequency of tusks in the latter,
the distinctions are less apparent to a casual observer than to a
scientific naturalist. In the Ceylon species the forehead is higher and
more hollow, the ears are smaller, and, in a section of the teeth, the
grinding ridges, instead of being lozenge-shaped, are transverse bars
of uniform breadth.
The Indian elephant is stated by Cuvier to have four nails on the
hind foot, the African variety having only three; but amongst the
perfections of a high-bred elephant of Ceylon, is always enumerated the
possession of _twenty_ nails, whilst those of a secondary class have
but eighteen in all.[28]
So conversant are the natives with the structure and “points” of the
elephant, that they divide them readily into castes, and describe
with particularity their distinctive excellences and defects. In
the _Hastisilpe_, a Singhalese work which treats of their natural
management, the marks of inferior breeding are said to be “eyes
restless like those of a crow, the hair of the head of mixed shades;
the face wrinkled; the tongue curved and black; the nails short
and green; the ears small; the neck thin, the skin freckled; the
tail without a tuft, and the fore-quarter lean and low;” whilst the
perfection of form and beauty is supposed to consist in the “softness
of the skin, the red colour of the mouth and tongue, the forehead
expanded and hollow, the ears broad and rectangular, the trunk broad at
the root and blotched with pink in front; the eyes bright and kindly,
the cheeks large, the neck full, the back level, the chest square, the
fore legs short and convex in front, the hind quarter plump, and five
nails on each foot, all smooth, polished, and round.[29] An elephant
with these perfections,” says the author of the _Hastisilpe_, “will
impart glory and magnificence to the king; but he cannot be discovered
amongst thousands, yea, there shall never be found an elephant clothed
at once with _all_ the excellences herein described.” The “points” of
an elephant are to be studied with the greatest advantage in those
attached to the temples, which are always of the highest caste, and
exhibit the most perfect breeding.
The colour of the animal’s skin in a state of nature is generally
of a lighter brown than that of those in captivity; a distinction
which arises, in all probability, not so much from the wild animal’s
propensity to cover itself with mud and dust, as from the superior care
which is taken in repeatedly bathing the tame ones, and in rubbing
their skins with a soft stone, a lump of burnt clay, or the rough husk
of a coco-nut. This kind of discipline, together with the occasional
application of oil, gives rise to the deeper black which the hides of
the latter present.
Amongst the Singhalese, however, a singular preference is evinced for
elephants that exhibit those flesh-coloured blotches which occasionally
mottle the skin of an elephant, chiefly about the head and extremities.
The front of the trunk, the tips of the ears, the forehead, and
occasionally the legs, are thus diversified with stains of a yellowish
tint, inclining to pink. These are not natural; nor are they
hereditary, for they are seldom exhibited by the younger individuals
in a herd, but appear to be the result of some eruptive affection, the
irritation of which has induced the animal in its uneasiness to rub
itself against the rough bark of trees, and thus to abrade the outer
cuticle.[30]
To a European these spots appear blemishes, and the taste that leads
the natives to admire them is probably akin to the feeling that has
at all times rendered _a white elephant_ an object of wonder to
Asiatics. The rarity of the latter is accounted for by regarding this
peculiar appearance as the result of albinism; and notwithstanding the
exaggeration of Oriental historians, who compare the fairness of such
creatures to the whiteness of snow, even in its utmost perfection,
I apprehend that the tint of a white elephant is little else than a
flesh-colour, rendered somewhat more conspicuous by the blanching of
the skin, and the lightness of the colourless hairs with which it is
sparsely covered. A white elephant is mentioned in the _Mahawanso_ as
forming part of the retinue attached to the “Temple of the Tooth” at
Anarajapoora, in the fifth century after Christ;[31] but it commanded
no religious veneration, and like those in the stud of the kings of
Siam, it was tended merely as an emblem of royalty;[32] the sovereign
of Ceylon being addressed as the “Lord of Elephants.”[33] At the same
time it admits of no doubt that in the early ages, white animals were
in some parts of the East the objects of devout adoration. Herodotus
alludes to the sacred white horses, ἱερῶν ἵππων τῶν λευκῶν, which
accompanied the army of Cyrus to the siege of Babylon;[34] he equally
records that amongst the Egyptians purely white oxen were sacred
to Epaphus; but one single dark hair was enough to exclude them as
unclean.[35]
In 1633 a white elephant was exhibited in Holland;[36] but as this
was some years before the Dutch had established themselves firmly
in Ceylon, it was probably brought from some other of their eastern
possessions.
CHAPTER II.
HABITS WHEN WILD.
Although found generally in warm and sunny climates, it is a mistake
to suppose that the elephant is partial either to heat or to light.
In Ceylon, the mountain tops, and not the sultry valleys, are its
favourite resort. In Ouvah, where the elevated plains are often crisp
with the morning frost, and on Pedura-talla-galla, at the height of
upwards of eight thousand feet, they may be found in herds at times
when the hunter will search for them without success in the hot
jungles of the low country. No altitude, in fact, seems too lofty or
too chill for the elephant, provided it affords the luxury of water
in abundance; and, contrary to the general opinion that the elephant
delights in sunshine, it seems at all times impatient of glare, and
spends the day in the thickest depth of the forests, devoting the night
to excursions, and to the luxury of the bath, in which it also indulges
occasionally by day. This partiality for shade is doubtless ascribable
to the animal’s love of coolness and solitude; but it is not altogether
unconnected with the position of the eye, and the circumscribed use
which its peculiar mode of life permits it to make of the faculty of
sight.
All the elephant hunters and natives with whom I have spoken on the
subject, concur in opinion that its range of vision is circumscribed,
and that it relies more on the ear and the sense of smell than on its
sight, which is liable to be obstructed by dense foliage; besides
which, from the formation of its short neck, the elephant is incapable
of directing the range of the eye much above the level of the head.[37]
This small sphere of vision is sufficient to account for the excessive
caution of the elephant, its alarm at unusual noises, and the timidity
and panic exhibited at trivial objects and incidents which, imperfectly
discerned, excite suspicions for its safety.[38] In 1841 an officer[39]
was chased by an elephant that he had slightly wounded. Seizing him
near the dry bed of a river, the animal had its fore-foot already
raised to crush him; but its forehead being touched at the same instant
by the tendrils of a climbing plant which had suspended itself from the
branches above, it suddenly turned and fled; leaving him badly hurt,
but with no limb broken. I have heard similar instances, equally well
attested, of this peculiarity in the character of the elephant.
On the other hand, the power of smell is so remarkable as almost to
compensate for the deficiency of sight. A herd is not only apprised
of the approach of danger by this means, but when scattered in the
forest, and dispersed out of range of sight, they are enabled by it
to reassemble with rapidity and to adopt precautions for their common
safety. The same necessity is met by a delicate sense of hearing, and
the use of a variety of noises or calls, by means of which elephants
succeed in communicating with each other upon all emergencies. “The
sounds which they utter have been described by the African hunters as
of three kinds: the first, which is very shrill, produced by blowing
through the trunk, is indicative of pleasure; the second, produced
by the mouth, is expressive of want; and the third, proceeding from
the throat, is a terrific roar of anger or revenge.”[40] These words
convey but an imperfect idea of the variety of noises made by the
elephant in Ceylon; and the shrill cry produced by blowing through
his trunk, so far from being regarded as an indication of “pleasure,”
is the well-known cry of rage with which he rushes to encounter an
assailant. ARISTOTLE describes it as resembling the hoarse sound of a
“trumpet.”[41] The French still designate the proboscis of an elephant
by the same expression “trompe” (which we have unmeaningly corrupted
into _trunk_), and hence the scream of the elephant is known as
“trumpeting” by the hunters in Ceylon. Their cry when in pain, or when
subjected to compulsion, is a grunt or a deep groan from the throat,
with the proboscis curled upwards and the lips wide apart.
Should the attention of an individual in the herd be attracted by
any unusual appearance in the forest, the intelligence is rapidly
communicated by a low suppressed sound made by the lips, somewhat
resembling the twittering of a bird, and described by the hunters by
the word “_prut_.”
A very remarkable noise has been described to me by more than one
individual, who had come unexpectedly upon a herd during the night,
when the alarm of the elephants was apparently too great to be
satisfied with the stealthy note of warning just described. On these
occasions the sound produced resembled the hollow booming of an empty
tun when struck with a wooden mallet or a muffled sledge. Major
MACREADY, Military Secretary in Ceylon in 1836, who heard it by night
amongst the wild elephants in the great forest of Bintenne, describes
it as “a sort of banging noise like that of a cooper hammering a
cask;” and Major SKINNER is of opinion that it must be produced by the
elephant striking his ribs rapidly and forcibly with his trunk. Mr.
CRIPPS informs me that he has more than once seen an elephant, when
surprised or alarmed, produce this sound by beating the ground forcibly
with the flat side of the trunk; and this movement was instantly
succeeded by raising it again, and pointing it in the direction whence
the alarm proceeded, as if to ascertain by the sense of smell the
nature of the threatened danger. As this strange sound is generally
mingled with the bellowing and ordinary trumpeting of the herd, it is
in all probability a device resorted to, not alone for warning their
companions of some approaching peril, but also for the additional
purpose of terrifying unseen intruders.[42]
Elephants are subject to deafness; and the Singhalese regard as the
most formidable of all wild animals, a “rogue”[43] afflicted with this
infirmity.
Extravagant estimates are recorded of the height of the elephant.
In an age when popular fallacies in relation to him were as yet
uncorrected in Europe by the actual inspection of the living animal,
he was supposed to grow to the height of twelve or fifteen feet. Even
within the last century, in popular works on natural history, the
elephant, when full grown, was said to measure from seventeen to twenty
feet from the ground to the shoulder.[44] At a still later period,
so imperfectly had the truth been ascertained, that the elephant of
Ceylon was believed “to excel that of Africa in size and strength.”[45]
But so far from equalling the size of the African species, that of
Ceylon seldom exceeds the height of nine feet; even in the Hambangtotte
country, where the hunters agree that the largest specimens are to be
found, the tallest in ordinary herds do not average more than eight
feet. WOLF, in his account of the Ceylon elephant,[46] says he saw one
taken near Jaffna, which measured twelve feet and one inch high. But
the truth is, that the general bulk of the elephant so far exceeds that
of the animals we are accustomed to see daily, that the imagination
magnifies its unusual dimensions; and I have seldom or ever met with
an inexperienced spectator who did not unconsciously overestimate the
size of an elephant shown to him, whether in captivity or in a state
of nature. Major DENHAM would have guessed some which he saw in Africa
to be sixteen feet in height, but the largest when killed was found to
measure nine feet six, from the foot to the hipbone.[47]
For a creature of such extraordinary weight it is astonishing how
noiselessly and stealthily the elephant can escape from a pursuer.
When suddenly disturbed in the jungle, it will burst away with a
rush that seems to bear down all before it; but the noise sinks into
absolute stillness so suddenly, that a novice might well be led to
suppose that the fugitive had only halted within a few yards of him,
when further search will disclose that it has stolen silently away,
making scarcely a sound in its escape; and, stranger still, leaving the
foliage almost undisturbed by its passage.
The most venerable delusion respecting the elephant, and that which
held its ground with unequalled tenacity, is the ancient fallacy thus
set out by SIR THOMAS BROWNE in his _Pseudodoxia Epidemica_. “The
elephant, it is said, hath no joynts; and this absurdity is seconded
by another, that being unable to lye downe it sleepeth against a
tree, which the hunters observing doe saw almost asunder, whereon the
beast relying, by the fall of the tree falls also downe it-selfe and
is able to rise no more.”[48] Sir THOMAS is disposed to think that
“the hint and ground of this opinion might be the grosse and somewhat
cylindricall composure of the legs of the elephant, and the equality
and lesse perceptible disposure of the joynts, especially in the
forelegs of this animal, they appearing, when he standeth, like pillars
of flesh;” but he overlooks the fact that PLINY has ascribed the same
peculiarity to the Scandinavian beast somewhat resembling a horse,
which he calls a “machlis,”[49] and that CÆSAR in describing the wild
animals in the Hercynian forests, enumerates the _alce_ (elk?), “in
colour and configuration approaching the goat, but surpassing it in
size, its head destitute of horns _and its limbs of joints_, whence it
can neither lie down to rest, nor rise if by any accident it should
fall, but using the trees for a resting-place, the hunters by loosening
their roots bring the _alce_ to the ground, so soon as it is tempted
to lean on them.”[50] This fallacy, as Sir THOMAS BROWNE[51] says, is
“not the daughter of latter times, but an old and grey-headed errour,
even in the days of ARISTOTLE,” who deals with the story as he received
it from CTESIAS, by whom it appears to have been embodied in his lost
work on India. But although ARISTOTLE generally receives the credit
of having exposed and demolished the fallacy of CTESIAS,[52] it will
be seen by a reference to his treatise _On the Progressive Motions
of Animals_, that in reality he approached the question with some
hesitation, and has not only left it doubtful in one passage whether
the elephant has joints in his knee, although he demonstrates that it
has joints in the shoulders;[53] but in another he distinctly affirms
that on account of his weight the elephant cannot bend his forelegs
together, but only one at a time, and reclines to sleep on that
particular side.[54]
So great was the authority of ARISTOTLE, that ÆLIAN, who wrote two
centuries later and borrowed many of his statements from the works
of his predecessor, perpetuates this error; and, after describing
the exploits of the trained elephants exhibited at Rome, adds the
expression of his surprise, that an animal without joints (ἄναρθρον)
should yet be able to dance.[55] The fiction was too agreeable to be
readily abandoned by the poets of the Lower Empire and the Romancers
of the middle ages; and PHILE, a contemporary of PETRARCH and DANTE,
who in the early part of the fourteenth century addressed his didactic
poem on the elephant to the emperor Andronicus II., untaught by the
exposition of ARISTOTLE, still clung to the old delusion,
Πόδες δὲ τούτῳ θαῦμα καὶ σαφὲς τέρας,
Οὓς, οὐ καθάπερ τἆλλα τῶν ζώων γένη,
Εἴωθε κινεῖν ἐξ ἀνάρθρων κλασμάτων·
Καὶ γὰρ στιβαροῖς συντεθέντες ὀστέοις,
Καὶ τῇ πλαδαρᾷ τῶν σφυρῶν καταστάσει,
Καὶ τῇ πρὸς ἄρθρα τῶν σκελῶν ὑποκρίσει,
Νῦν εἰς τόνους ἄγουσι, νῦν εἰς ὑφέσεις,
Τὰς παντοδαπὰς ἐκδρομὰς τοῦ θηρίου.
* * * * *
Βραχυτέρους ὄντας δὲ τῶν ὀπισθίων
Ἀναμφιλέκτως οἶδα τοὺς ἐμπροσθίους·
Τούτοις ἐλέφας ἐνταθεὶς ὥσπερ στύλοις
Ὀρθοστάδην ἄκαμπτος ὑπνώττων μένει.
v. 106, &c.
SOLINUS introduced the same fable into his _Polyhistor_; and DICUIL,
the Irish commentator of the ninth century, who had an opportunity
of seeing the elephant sent by Haroun Alraschid as a present to
Charlemagne[56] in the year 802, corrects the error, and attributes its
perpetuation to the circumstance that the joints in the elephant’s leg
are not very apparent, except when he lies down.[57]
It is a strong illustration of the vitality of error, that the
delusion thus exposed by Dicuil in the ninth century, was revived by
MATTHEW PARIS in the thirteenth; and stranger still, that Matthew not
only saw but made a drawing of the elephant presented to King Henry
III. by the King of France in 1255, in which he nevertheless represents
the legs as without joints.[58]
In the numerous mediæval treatises on natural history, known under
the title of _Bestiaries_, this delusion regarding the elephant is
often repeated; and it is given at length in a metrical version of the
_Physiologus_ of THEORALDUS, amongst the Arundel Manuscripts in the
British Museum.[59]
With the Provençal song writers, the helplessness of the fallen
elephant was a favourite simile, and amongst others RICHARD DE
BARBEZIEUX, in the latter half of the twelfth century, sung,[60]
“Atressi cum l’olifans
Que quan chai no s’ pot levar.”
As elephants were but rarely seen in Europe prior to the seventeenth
century, there were but few opportunities of correcting the popular
fallacy by ocular demonstration. Hence SHAKSPEARE still believed that,
“The elephant hath joints; but none for courtesy;
His legs are for necessity, not flexure:”[61]
and DONNE sang of
“Nature’s great masterpiece, an elephant;
The only harmless great thing:
Yet Nature hath given him no knee to bend:
Himself he up-props, on himself relies;
Still sleeping stands.”[62]
Sir THOMAS BROWNE, while he argues against the delusion, does not
fail to record his suspicion, that “although the opinion at present
be reasonably well suppressed, yet from the strings of tradition and
fruitful recurrence of errour, it was not improbable it might revive in
the next generation;”[63]—an anticipation which has proved singularly
correct; for the heralds still continued to explain that the elephant
is the emblem of watchfulness, “_nec jacet in somno_,”[64] and poets
almost of our own times paint the scene when
“Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that cast
Their ample shade on Niger’s yellow stream,
Or where the Ganges rolls his sacred waves,
_Leans_ the huge elephant.”[65]
It is not difficult to discern whence this antiquated delusion took
its origin; nor is it, as Sir THOMAS BROWNE imagined, to be traced
exclusively “to the grosse and cylindricall structure” of the animal’s
legs. The fact is, that the elephant, returning in the early morning
from his nocturnal revels in the reservoirs and watercourses, is
accustomed to rub his muddy sides against a tree, and sometimes against
a rock if more convenient. Often in my rides at sunrise through the
northern forests, the natives of Ceylon have pointed out that the
elephants which had preceded me must have been of considerable size,
judging from the height at which their marks had been left on the
trees against which they had recently been rubbing. Not unfrequently
the animals themselves, overcome with drowsiness from the night’s
gambolling, are found dozing and resting against the trees they had so
visited, and in the same manner they have been discovered by sportsmen
asleep, and leaning against a rock.
It is scarcely necessary to explain that the position is accidental,
and that it is taken by the elephant not from any difficulty in lying
at length on the ground, but rather from the coincidence that the
structure of his legs affords such support in a standing position,
that reclining scarcely adds to his enjoyment of repose; and elephants
in a state of captivity have been known for months together to sleep
without lying down.[66] So distinctive is this formation, and so
self-sustaining the configuration of the limbs, that an elephant shot
in the brain, by Major Rogers in 1836, was killed so instantaneously
that it died literally _on its knees_, and remained resting on them.
About the year 1826, Captain Dawson, the engineer of the great road
to Kandy, over the Kaduganava pass, shot an elephant at Hangwelle on
the banks of the Kalany Ganga; _it remained on its feet_, but so
motionless, that after discharging a few more balls, he was induced to
go close to it, and found it dead.
The real peculiarity in the elephant in lying down is, that he extends
his hind legs backwards as a man does when he kneels, instead of
bringing them under him like the horse or any other quadruped. The wise
purpose of this arrangement must be obvious to any one who observes
the struggle with which the horse _gets up_ from the ground, and the
violent efforts which he makes to raise himself erect. Such an exertion
in the case of the elephant, and the force requisite to apply a similar
movement to raise his weight (equal to four or five tons) would be
attended with a dangerous strain upon the muscles, and hence the simple
arrangement, which by enabling him to draw the hind feet gradually
under him, assists him to rise without a perceptible effort.
From the same causes I am disposed to think that the elephant is too
weighty and unwieldy to leap, at least to any considerable height or
distance; and yet I have seen in the _Colombo Observer_ for March,
1866, an interesting account of a corral, written by an able and
accurate describer, in which it is stated that an enfuriated tusker,
the property of the Government, made a rush to escape from the
enclosure, “and fairly leaped the barrier, of some fifteen feet high,
only carrying away the top cross beam with a great crash.”
The same construction renders his gait not a “gallop,” as it has been
somewhat loosely described,[67] which would be too violent a motion
for so vast a body; but a shuffle, that he can increase at pleasure to
a pace as rapid as that of a man at full speed, but which he cannot
maintain for any considerable distance.
It is to the structure of the knee-joint that the elephant is
indebted for his singular facility in ascending and descending steep
acclivities, climbing rocks and traversing precipitous ledges, where
even a mule dare not venture; and this again leads to the correction
of another generally received error, that his legs are “formed more
for strength than flexibility, and fitted to bear an enormous weight
upon a level surface, without the necessity of ascending or descending
great acclivities.”[68] The same authority assumes that, although the
elephant is found in the neighbourhood of mountainous ranges, and will
even ascend rocky passes, such a service is a violation of its natural
habits.
Of the elephant of Africa I am not qualified to speak, nor of the
nature of the ground which it most frequents; but certainly the facts
in connection with the elephant of India are all irreconcilable with
the theory mentioned above. In Bengal, in the Nilgherries, in Nepal,
in Burmah, in Siam, Sumatra, and Ceylon, the districts in which the
elephants most abound, are all hilly and mountainous. In the latter,
especially, there is not a range so elevated as to be inaccessible to
them. On the very summit of Adam’s Peak, at an altitude of 7,420 feet,
and on a pinnacle which the pilgrims climb with difficulty, by means of
steps hewn in the rock, Major Skinner, in 1840, found the spoor of an
elephant.
Prior to 1840, and before coffee-plantations had been extensively
opened in the Kandyan ranges, there was not a mountain or a lofty
feature of land of Ceylon which they had not traversed, in their
periodical migrations in search of water; and the sagacity which they
display in “laying out roads” is almost incredible. They generally keep
along the _backbone_ of a chain of hills, avoiding steep gradients: and
one curious observation was not lost upon the Government surveyors,
that in crossing valleys from ridge to ridge, through forests so dense
as to obstruct a distant view, the elephants invariably select the
line of march which communicates most judiciously with the opposite
point, by means of the safest ford.[69] So sure-footed are they, that
there are few places where man can go that an elephant cannot follow,
provided there be space to admit his bulk, and solidity to sustain his
weight.
In 1865 a capture of elephants was attempted at Avisavelle in Ceylon:
the corral was constructed close to a wall of rocks so precipitous and
high that it was considered superfluous to continue the enclosure in
front of them. But over these rocks the elephants made their escape,
and the corral was a total failure.[70]
This faculty is almost entirely derived from the unusual position, as
compared with other quadrupeds, of the knee joint of the hind leg;
arising from the superior length of the thigh bone, and the shortness
of the metatarsus: the heel being almost where it projects in man,
instead of being lifted up as a “hock.” It is this which enables
him, in descending declivities, to depress and adjust the weight of
his hinder portions, which would otherwise overbalance and force him
headlong.[71] It is by the same arrangement that he is enabled, on
uneven ground, to lift his feet, which are tender and sensitive,
with delicacy, and plant them with such decision as to ensure his
own safety as well as that of objects which it is expedient to avoid
touching.
A _herd_ of elephants is a family, not a group whom accident or
attachment may have induced to associate together. Similarity of
features and caste attest that, among the various individuals which
compose it, there is a common lineage and relationship. In a herd of
twenty-one elephants, captured in 1844, the trunks of each individual
presented the same peculiar formation,—long, and almost of one uniform
breadth throughout, instead of tapering gradually from the root to the
nostril. In another instance, the eyes of thirty-five taken in one
corral were of the same colour in each. The same slope of the back, the
same form of the forehead, is to be detected in the majority of the
same group.
In the forest several herds sometimes browse in close contiguity,
and in their expeditions in search of water they may form a body of
possibly one or two hundred; but on the slightest disturbance each
distinct herd hastens to re-form within its own particular circle, and
to take measures on its own behalf for retreat or defence.
The natives of any place which may chance to be frequented by
elephants, observe that the numbers of the same herd fluctuate very
slightly; and hunters in pursuit of them, who may chance to have shot
one or more, always reckon with certainty the precise number of those
remaining, although a considerable interval may intervene before they
again encounter them. The proportion of males is generally small, and
some herds have been seen composed exclusively of females; possibly
in consequence of the males having been shot. A herd usually consists
of from ten to twenty individuals, though occasionally they exceed the
latter number; and in their frequent migrations and nightly resort
to tanks and water-courses, alliances are formed between members of
associated herds, which serve to introduce new blood into the family.
In illustration of the attachment of the elephant to its young, the
authority of KNOX has been quoted, that “the shees are alike tender
of anyone’s young ones as of their own.”[72] Their affection in this
particular is undoubted, but I question whether it exceeds that of
other animals; and the trait thus adduced of their indiscriminate
kindness to all the young of the herd,—of which I have myself been an
eye-witness,—so far from being an evidence of the intensity of parental
attachment individually, is, perhaps, somewhat inconsistent with the
existence of such a passion to any extraordinary degree.[73] In fact,
some individuals, who have had extensive facilities for observation,
doubt whether the fondness of the female elephants for their offspring
is so great as that of many other animals; as instances are not
wanting in Ceylon, in which, when pursued by the hunters, the herd has
abandoned the young ones in their flight, notwithstanding the cries of
the latter for protection.
In an interesting paper on the habits of the Indian elephant, published
in the _Philosophical Transactions for 1793_, Mr. CORSE says: “If a
wild elephant happens to be separated from its young for only two days,
though giving suck, she never after recognises or acknowledges it,”
although the young one evidently knows its dam, and by its plaintive
cries and submissive approaches solicits her assistance.
If by any accident an elephant becomes hopelessly separated from his
own herd, he is not permitted to attach himself to any other. He may
browse in their vicinity, or resort to the same places to drink and
to bathe; but the intercourse is only on a distant and conventional
footing, and no familiarity or intimate association is under any
circumstances permitted. To such a height is this exclusiveness
carried, that even amidst the terror and stupefaction of an elephant
corral, when an individual, detached from his own party in the _mêlée_
and confusion, has been driven into the enclosure along with an
unbroken herd, I have seen him repulsed in every attempt to take refuge
among them, and driven off by heavy blows with their trunks as often
as he attempted to insinuate himself within the circle which they had
formed for their own security. There can be no reasonable doubt that
this jealous and exclusive policy not only contributes to produce, but
mainly serves to perpetuate, the class of solitary elephants which are
known by the term _goondahs_, in India, and which from their vicious
propensities and predatory habits are called _Hora_, or _Rogues_, in
Ceylon.[74]
It is believed by the Singhalese that these are either individuals, who
by accident have lost their former associates and become morose and
savage from rage and solitude; or else that being naturally vicious
they have become daring from the yielding habits of their milder
companions, and eventually separated themselves from the rest of the
herd which had refused to associate with them. Another conjecture is,
that being almost universally males, the death or capture of particular
females may have detached them from their former companions in search
of fresh alliances.[75] It is also believed that a tame elephant
escaping from activity, unable to rejoin its former herd, and excluded
from any other, becomes a “_rogue_” from necessity. In Ceylon it is
generally believed that the _rogues_ are all males (but of this I am
not certain), and so sullen is their disposition that although two may
be in the same vicinity, there is no known instance of two _rogues_
associating, or of a _rogue_ being seen in company with another
elephant.
They spend their nights in marauding, often around the dwellings of
men, destroying plantations, trampling down gardens, and committing
serious ravages in rice grounds and young coco-nut plantations. Hence
from their closer contact with man and his dwellings, these outcasts
become disabused of many of the terrors which render the ordinary
elephant timid and needlessly cautious; they break through fences
without fear; and even in the daylight a _rogue_ has been known near
Ambogammoa to watch a field of labourers at work in reaping rice,
and boldly to walk in amongst them, seize a sheaf from the heap, and
retire with it leisurely to the jungle. By day they generally seek
concealment, but are frequently to be met with prowling about the
by-roads and jungle paths, where travellers are exposed to the utmost
risk from their assaults. It is probable that this hostility to man
is the result of the enmity engendered by measures which the natives,
who have a constant dread of their visits, adopt for the protection of
the growing crops. In some districts, especially in the low country of
Badulla, the villagers occasionally enclose their cottages with rude
walls of earth and branches to protect them from nightly assaults.
In places infested by them, the visits of European sportsmen to the
vicinity of their haunts are eagerly encouraged by the natives, who
think themselves happy in lending their services to track the herds in
consideration of the benefit conferred on the village communities by
the destruction of a rogue. In 1847 one of these formidable creatures
frequented for some months the Rangbodde Pass on the great mountain
road leading to the sanatarium, at Neuera-ellia; and amongst other
excesses, killed a Caffre belonging to the corps of Caffre pioneers, by
seizing him with its trunk and beating him to death against the bank.
To return to the herd: one member of it, usually the largest and
most powerful, is by common consent implicitly followed as leader. A
tusker, if there be one in the party, is generally observed to be the
commander; but a female, if of superior energy, is as readily obeyed
as a male. In fact, in this promotion there is no reason to doubt
that supremacy is almost unconsciously assumed by those endowed with
superior vigour and courage rather than from the accidental possession
of greater bodily strength; and the devotion and loyalty which the
herd evince to their leader are very remarkable. This is more readily
seen in the case of a tusker than any other, because in a herd he is
generally the object of the keenest pursuit by the hunters. On such
occasions the others do their utmost to protect him from danger: when
driven to extremity they place their leader in the centre and crowd
so eagerly in front of him that the sportsmen have to shoot a number
which they might otherwise have spared. In one instance a tusker, which
was badly wounded by Major ROGERS, was promptly surrounded by his
companions, who supported him between their shoulders, and actually
succeeded in covering his retreat to the forest.
Those who have lived much in the jungle in Ceylon, and had constant
opportunities of watching the habits of wild elephants, have witnessed
instances of the submission of herds to their leaders, that suggest an
inquiry of singular interest as to the means adopted by the latter to
communicate with distinctness, orders which are observed with the most
implicit obedience by their followers. The following narrative of an
adventure in the great central forest toward the north of the island,
communicated to me by Major SKINNER, who was engaged for some time in
surveying and opening roads through the thickly-wooded districts there,
will serve better than any abstract description to convey an idea of
the conduct of a herd on such occasions:—
“The case you refer to struck me as exhibiting something more than
ordinary brute instinct, and approached nearer to reasoning powers
than any other instance I can now remember. I cannot do justice to the
scene, although it appeared to me at the time to be so remarkable that
it left a deep impression in my mind.
“In the height of the dry season in Neuera-Kalawa, you know the streams
are all dried up, and the tanks nearly so. All animals are then sorely
pressed for water, and they congregate in the vicinity of those tanks
in which there may remain ever so little of the precious element.
“During one of those seasons I was encamped on the bund or embankment
of a very small tank, the water in which was so dried that its surface
could not have exceeded an area of 500 square yards. It was the only
pond within many miles, and I knew that of necessity a very large herd
of elephants, which had been in the neighbourhood all day, must resort
to it at night.
“On the lower side of the tank, and in a line with the embankment, was
a thick forest, in which the elephants sheltered themselves during the
day. On the upper side and all around the tank there was a considerable
margin of open ground. It was one of those beautiful bright, clear,
moonlight nights, when objects could be seen almost as distinctly
as by day, and I determined to avail myself of the opportunity to
observe the movements of the herd, which had already manifested some
uneasiness at our presence. The locality was very favourable for my
purpose, and an enormous tree projecting over the tank afforded me a
secure lodgement in its branches. Having ordered the fires of my camp
to be extinguished at an early hour, and all my followers to retire
to rest, I took up my post of observation on the overhanging bough;
but I had to remain for upwards of two hours before anything was to be
seen or heard of the elephants, although I knew they were within 500
yards of me. At length, about the distance of 300 yards from the water,
an unusually large elephant issued from the dense cover, and advanced
cautiously across the open ground to within 100 yards of the tank,
where he stood perfectly motionless. So quiet had the elephants become
(although they had been roaring and breaking the jungle throughout
the day and evening), that not a movement was now to be heard. The
huge vidette remained in his position, still as a rock, for a few
minutes, and then made three successive stealthy advances of several
yards (halting for some minutes between each, with ears bent forward
to catch the slightest sound), and in this way he moved slowly up to
the water’s edge. Still he did not venture to quench his thirst, for
though his fore feet were partially in the tank and his vast body was
reflected clear in the water, he remained for some minutes listening
in perfect stillness. Not a motion could be perceived in himself or
his shadow. He returned cautiously and slowly to the position he
had at first taken up on emerging from the forest. Here in a little
while he was joined by five others, with which he again proceeded as
cautiously, but less slowly than before, to within a few yards of
the tank, and then posted his patrols. He then re-entered the forest
and collected around him the whole herd, which must have amounted to
between 80 and 100 individuals,—led them across the open ground with
the most extraordinary composure and quietness, till he joined the
advanced guard, when he left them for a moment and repeated his former
reconnoissance at the edge of the tank. After which, having apparently
satisfied himself that all was safe, he returned and obviously gave the
order to advance, for in a moment the whole herd rushed into the water
with a degree of unreserved confidence, so opposite to the caution
and timidity which had marked their previous movements, that nothing
will ever persuade me that there was not rational and preconcerted
co-operation throughout the whole party, and a degree of responsible
authority exercised by the patriarch leader.
“When the poor animals had gained possession of the tank (the leader
being the last to enter), they seemed to abandon themselves to
enjoyment without restraint or apprehension of danger. Such a mass
of animal life I had never before seen huddled together in so narrow
a space. It seemed to me as though they would have nearly drunk the
tank dry. I watched them with great interest until they had satisfied
themselves as well in bathing as in drinking, when I tried how small
a noise would apprise them of the proximity of unwelcome neighbours.
I had but to break a little twig, and the solid mass instantly took
to flight like a herd of frightened deer, each of the smaller calves
being apparently shouldered and carried along between two of the older
ones.”[76]
[Illustration]
In drinking, the elephant, like the camel, although preferring water
pure, shows no decided aversion to it when discoloured with mud;[77]
and the eagerness with which he precipitates himself into the tanks and
streams attests his exquisite enjoyment of the fresh coolness, which
to him is the chief attraction. In crossing deep rivers, although his
rotundity and buoyancy enable him to swim with a less immersion than
other quadrupeds, he generally prefers to sink till no part of his
huge body is visible except the tip of his trunk, through which he
breathes, moving beneath the surface, and only now and then raising
his head to look that he is keeping the proper direction.[78] In the
dry season the scanty streams which, during the rains, are sufficient
to convert the rivers of the low country into torrents, often entirely
disappear, leaving only broad expanses of dry sand, which they have
swept down with them from the hills. In this the elephants contrive to
sink wells for their own use by scooping out the sand to the depth
of four or five feet, and leaving a hollow for the percolation of the
spring. But as the weight of the elephant would force in the side if
left perpendicular, one approach is always formed with such a gradient
that he can reach the water with his trunk without disturbing the
surrounding sand.
I have reason to believe, although the fact has not been
authoritatively stated by naturalists, that the stomach of the elephant
will be found to include a chamber analogous to that possessed by
some of the ruminants, calculated to contain a supply of water as a
provision against emergencies. The fact of his being enabled to retain
a quantity of water and discharge it at pleasure has been long known
to every observer of the habits of the animal; but the proboscis has
always been supposed to be “his water-reservoir,”[79] and the theory of
an internal receptacle has not been discussed. The truth is that the
anatomy of the elephant is even yet but imperfectly understood,[80]
and, although some peculiarities of his stomach were observed at an
early period by ARISTOTLE and others;[81] and even their configuration
described, the function of the abnormal portion remained undetermined,
and has been only recently conjectured. An elephant which belonged to
Louis XIV. died at Versailles in 1681 at the age of seventeen, and an
account of its dissection was published in the _Mémoires pour servir à
l’Histoire Naturelle_, under the authority of the Academy of Sciences,
in which the unusual appendages of the stomach are pointed out with
sufficient particularity, but no suggestion is made as to their
probable uses.”[82]
A writer in the _Quarterly Review_ for December 1850, says that
“CAMPER and other comparative anatomists have shown that the left,
or cardiac end of the stomach in the elephant is adapted, by several
wide folds of lining membrane, to serve as a receiver for water;” but
this is scarcely correct, for although CAMPER has accurately figured
the external form of the stomach, he disposes of the question of the
interior functions with the simple remark that its folds “semblent en
faire une espèce de division particulière.”[83] In like manner Sir
EVERARD HOME, in his _Lectures on Comparative Anatomy_, has not only
carefully described the form of the elephant’s stomach, and furnished a
drawing of it even more accurate than CAMPER; but he has equally failed
to assign any purpose for so strange a formation; contenting himself
with observing that the structure is a peculiarity, and that one of the
remarkable folds nearest the orifice of the diaphragm appears to act as
a valve, so that the portion beyond may be considered as an appendage
similar to that of the hog and the _peccary_.[84]
[Illustration: ELEPHANT’S STOMACH.]
The appendage thus alluded to by Sir EVERARD HOME is the “grand
cul-de-sac,” noticed by the Académie des Sciences, and the “division
particulière,” figured by CAMPER. It is of sufficient dimensions to
contain ten gallons of water, and by means of the valve above alluded
to, it can be shut off from the chamber devoted to the process of
digestion. Professor OWEN is probably the first who, not from an
autopsy, but from the mere inspection of the drawings of CAMPER and
HOME, ventured to assert (in lectures hitherto unpublished), that the
uses of this section of the elephant’s stomach may be analogous to
those ascertained to belong to a somewhat similar arrangement in the
stomach of the camel, one cavity of which is exclusively employed as a
reservoir for water, and performs no function in the preparation of
food.[85]
[Illustration]
Whilst Professor OWEN was advancing this conjecture, another
comparative anatomist, from the examination of another portion of the
structure of the elephant, was led to a somewhat similar conclusion.
Dr. HARRISON of Dublin had, in 1847, an opportunity of dissecting the
body of an elephant which had suddenly died; and in the course of his
examination of the thoracic viscera he observed that an unusually close
connection existed between the trachea and œsophagus, which he found
to depend on a muscle unnoticed by any previous anatomist, connecting
the back of the former with the fore part of the latter, along which
the fibres descend and can be distinctly traced to the cardiac orifice
of the stomach. Imperfectly acquainted with the habits and functions
of the elephant in a state of nature, Dr. HARRISON found it difficult
to pronounce as to the use of this very peculiar structure; but
looking to the intimate connection between the mechanism concerned
in the functions of respiration and deglutition, and seeing that the
proboscis served in a double capacity as an instrument of voice and
an organ for the prehension of food, he ventured (apparently without
adverting to the abnormal form of the stomach) to express the opinion
that this muscle, viewing its attachment to the trachea, might either
have some influence in raising the diaphragm, and thereby assisting
in expiration, “_or that it might raise the cardiac orifice of the
stomach, and so aid this organ to regurgitate a portion of its contents
into the œsophagus_.”[86]
Dr. HARRISON, on the reflection that “we have no satisfactory evidence
that the animal ever ruminates,” thought it useless to speculate on the
latter supposition as to the action of the newly discovered muscle,
and rather inclined to the surmise that it was designed to assist the
elephant in producing the remarkable sound through his proboscis known
as “trumpeting;” but there is little room to doubt that of the two
the rejected hypothesis was the more correct one. I have elsewhere
described the occurrence to which I was myself a witness, of elephants
inserting their proboscis in their mouths, and withdrawing gallons of
water, which could only have been contained in the receptacle figured
by CAMPER and HOME, and of which the true uses were discerned by the
clear intellect of Professor OWEN. I was not, till very recently, aware
that a similar observation as to this remarkable habit of the elephant,
had been made by the author of the _Ayeen Akbery_, in his account of
the _Feel Kaneh_, or elephant stables of the Emperor Akbar, in which
he says, “an elephant frequently with his trunk takes water out of
his stomach and sprinkles himself with it, and it is not in the least
offensive.[87] FORBES, in his Oriental Memoirs, quotes this passage of
the _Ayeen Akbery_, but without a remark; nor does any European writer
with whose works I am acquainted appear to have been cognisant of the
peculiarity in question.
[Illustration: WATER-CELLS IN THE STOMACH OF THE CAMEL.]
It is to be hoped that Professor OWEN’S dissection of the young
elephant, recently arrived, may serve to decide this highly interesting
point.[88] Should scientific investigation hereafter more clearly
establish the fact that, in this particular, the structure of the
elephant is assimilated to that of the llama and the camel, it will be
regarded as more than a mere coincidence, that an apparatus, so unique
in its purpose and action, should have been conferred by the Creator on
the three animals which in sultry climates are, by this arrangement,
enabled to traverse arid regions in the service of man.[89] To show
this peculiar organisation where it attains its fullest development, I
have given a sketch of the water-cells in the stomach of the camel on
the preceding page.
The _food_ of the elephant is so abundant, that in eating he never
appears to be impatient or voracious, but rather to play with the
leaves and branches on which he leisurely feeds. In riding by places
where a herd has recently halted, I have sometimes seen the bark peeled
curiously off the twigs, as though it had been done in mere dalliance.
In the same way in eating grass the elephant selects a tussac which he
draws from the ground by a dexterous twist of his trunk, and nothing
can be more graceful than the ease with which, before conveying it
to his mouth, he beats the earth from its roots by striking it gently
upon his fore-leg. A coco-nut he first rolls under foot, to detach the
strong outer bark, then stripping off with his trunk the thick layer
of fibre within, he places the shell in his mouth, and swallows with
evident relish the fresh liquid which flows as he crushes it between
his grinders.
The natives of the peninsula of Jaffna always look for the periodical
appearance of the elephants, at the precise time when the fruit of the
palmyra palm begins to fall to the ground from ripeness. In like manner
in the eastern provinces where the custom prevails of cultivating what
is called _chena_[90] land (by clearing a patch of forest for the
purpose of raising a single crop, after which the ground is abandoned,
and reverts to jungle again), although a single elephant may not have
been seen in the neighbourhood during the early stages of the process,
the Moormen, who are the principal cultivators of this class, will
predict their appearance with almost unerring confidence so soon as
the grains shall have begun to ripen; and although the crop comes to
maturity at different periods in different districts, herds are certain
to be seen at each in succession, as soon as it is ready to be cut. In
these well-timed excursions they resemble the bison of North America,
which, by a similarly mysterious instinct, finds its way to portions
of the distant prairies, where accidental fires have been followed
by a growth of tender grass. In Ceylon, although the fences around
these _chenas_ are little more than lines of reeds loosely fastened
together, they are sufficient, with the presence of a single watcher,
to prevent the entrance of the elephants, who wait patiently till the
rice and _coracan_ have been removed, and the watcher withdrawn; and,
then finding gaps in the fence, they may be seen gleaning among the
leavings and the stubble; and they take their departure when these are
exhausted, apparently in the direction of some other _chena_, which
they have ascertained to be about to be cut.
There is something still unexplained in the dread which an elephant
always exhibits on approaching a fence, and the reluctance which he
displays to face the slightest artificial obstruction to his passage.
In the area of the fine old tank of Tissa-weva, close by Anarajapoora,
the natives cultivate grain, during the dry season, around the margin
where the ground has been left bare by the subsidence of the water.
These little patches of rice they enclose with small sticks an inch
in diameter and five or six feet in height, such as would scarcely
serve to keep out a wild hog if he attempted to force his way through.
Passages of from ten to twenty feet wide are left between each field,
to permit the wild elephants, which abound in the vicinity, to make
their nocturnal visits to the water still remaining in the centre of
the tank. Night after night these open pathways are frequented by
herds, but the tempting corn is never touched, nor is a single fence
disturbed, although the merest movement of a trunk would be sufficient
to demolish the fragile obstruction. Yet the same spots, the fences
being left open as soon as the grain has been cut and carried home,
are eagerly entered by the elephants to glean amongst the stubble.
Sportsmen observe that an elephant, even when enraged by a wound, will
hesitate to charge an assailant across an intervening hedge, but will
hurry along it to seek for an opening. It is possible that, on the
part of the elephant, there may be some instinctive consciousness,
that owing to his superior bulk, he is exposed to danger from sources
that might be perfectly harmless in the case of lighter animals, and
hence his suspicion that every fence may conceal a snare or pitfall.
Some similar apprehension is apparent in the deer, which shrinks from
attempting a fence of wire, although it will clear without hesitation a
solid wall of greater height.
At the same time, the caution with which the elephant is supposed to
approach insecure ground and places of doubtful[91] solidity, appears
to me, so far as my own observation and experience extend, to be
exaggerated, and the number of temporary bridges which are annually
broken down by elephants in all parts of Ceylon, is sufficient to show
that, although in captivity, and when familiar with such structures,
the tame ones may, and doubtless do, exhibit all the wariness
attributed to them; yet, in a state of liberty, and whilst unaccustomed
to such artificial appliances, their instincts are not sufficient to
ensure their safety. Besides, the fact is adverted to elsewhere,[92]
that the chiefs of the Wanny, during the sovereignty of the Dutch,
were accustomed to take in pitfalls the elephants which they rendered
as tribute to Government.
A fact illustrative at once of the caution and the spirit of curiosity
with which an elephant regards an unaccustomed object has been
frequently mentioned to me by the officers engaged in opening roads
through the forest. On such occasions the wooden “tracing pegs” which
they drive into the ground to mark the levels taken during the day,
will often be withdrawn by the elephants during the night, to such
an extent as frequently to render it necessary to go over the work a
second time, in order to replace them.[93]
Colonel HARDY, formerly Deputy Quarter-Master-General in Ceylon,
when proceeding, about the year 1820, to a military out-post in the
south-east of the island, imprudently landed in an uninhabited part
of the coast, intending to take a short cut through the forest, to
his destination. He both miscalculated distance and time, and, on the
approach of nightfall, he was chased by a vicious rogue elephant.
The pursuer was close upon him, when, to gain time, he flung down
a dressing-case, which he happened to be carrying. The device was
successful; the elephant halted, broke it open, and minutely examined
its contents, and thus gave the colonel time to effect his escape.[94]
As regards the general sagacity of the elephant, although it has
not been over-rated in the instances of those whose powers have been
largely developed in captivity, an undue estimate has been formed in
relation to them whilst still untamed. The difference of instincts and
habits renders it difficult to institute a just comparison between
them and other animals. CUVIER[95] is disposed to ascribe the exalted
idea that prevails of their intellect to the feats which an elephant
performs with that unique instrument, its trunk, combined with an
imposing expression of countenance: but he records his own conviction
that in sagacity it in no way excels the dog, and some other species
of Carnivora. If there be a superiority, I am disposed to award it to
the dog, not from any excess of natural capacity, but from the higher
degree of development consequent on his more intimate domestication
and association with man. COLERIDGE has remarked that “the ant and the
bee seem to come nearer to man in understanding, and in the faculty of
adapting means to proximate ends.”[96]
One remarkable fact was called to my attention by a gentleman who
resided on a coffee plantation at Rassawé, one of the loftiest
mountains of the Ambogammoa range. More than once during the terrific
thunder-bursts that precede the rains at the change of each monsoon,
he observed that the elephants in the adjoining forest hastened from
under cover of the trees and took up their station in the open ground,
where I saw them on one of these occasions collected into a group;
and here, he said, it was their custom to remain till the lightning
had ceased, when they retired again into the jungle.[97] It must be
observed, however, that showers, and especially light drizzling rain,
are believed to bring the elephants from the jungle towards pathways or
other openings in the forest;—and hence, in places infested by them,
timid persons are afraid to travel in the afternoon during uncertain
weather.
When free in its native woods the elephant evinces rather simplicity
than sagacity, and its intelligence seldom exhibits itself in cunning.
The rich profusion in which nature has supplied its food, and
anticipated its every want, has made it independent of those devices
by which carnivorous animals provide for their subsistence; and, from
the absence of all rivalry between it and the other denizens of the
plains, it is never required to resort to artifice for self-protection.
For these reasons, in its tranquil and harmless life, it may appear to
casual observers to exhibit even less than ordinary ability; but when
danger and apprehension call for the exertion of its powers, those who
have witnessed their display are seldom inclined to undervalue its
sagacity.
Mr. CRIPPS has related to me an instance in which a recently captured
elephant was either rendered senseless from fear, or, as the native
attendants asserted, _feigned death_ in order to regain its freedom.
It was led from the corral as usual between two tame ones, and had
already proceeded far towards its destination; when, night closing in,
and the torches being lighted, it refused to go on, and finally sank
to the ground, apparently lifeless. Mr. CRIPPS ordered the fastenings
to be removed from its legs, and when all attempts to raise it had
failed, so convinced was he that it was dead, that he ordered the ropes
to be taken off and the carcase abandoned. While this was being done
he and a gentleman by whom he was accompanied leaned against the body
to rest. They had scarcely taken their departure and proceeded a few
yards, when, to their astonishment, the elephant rose with the utmost
alacrity, and fled towards the jungle, screaming at the top of its
voice, its cries being audible long after it had disappeared in the
shades of the forest.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER II.
NARRATIVES OF THE NATIVES OF CEYLON RELATIVE TO ENCOUNTERS WITH ROGUE
ELEPHANTS.
The following narratives have been taken down by a Singhalese
gentleman, from the statements of the natives by whom they are
recounted;—and they are here inserted, in order to show the opinion
prevalent amongst the people of Ceylon as to the habits and
propensities of the rogue elephant. The stories are given in words of
my correspondent, who writes in English, as follows:—
1. “We,” said my informant, who was a native trader of Caltura, “were
on our way to Badulla, by way of Ratnapoora and Balangodde, to barter
our merchandise for coffee. There were six in our party, myself, my
brother-in-law, and four coolies, who carried on pingoes[98] our
merchandise, which consisted of cloth and brass articles. About 4
o’clock, P. M., we were close to Idalgasinna, and our coolies were
rather unwilling to go further for fear of elephants, which they said
were sure to be met with at that noted place, especially as there had
been a slight drizzling of rain during the whole afternoon. I was as
much afraid of elephants as the coolies themselves; but I was anxious
to proceed, and so, after a few words of encouragement addressed to
them, and a prayer or two offered up to _Saman dewiyo_,[99] resumed
our journey. I also took the further precaution of hanging up a few
leaves.[100] As the rain was coming down fast and thick, and I was
anxious to get to our halting-place before night, we moved on at a
rapid pace. My brother-in-law was in the van of the party, I myself
was in the rear, and the four coolies between us, all moving along
on a rugged, rocky, and difficult path; as the road to Badulla till
lately was on the sloping side of a hill, covered with jungle, pieces
of projecting rock, and brushwood. It was about five o’clock in
the evening, or a little later, and we had hardly cleared the foot
of the hill and got to the plain below, when a rustling of leaves
and a crackling of dry brushwood were heard on our right, followed
immediately by the trumpeting of a _hora allia_,[101] which was making
towards us. We all fled, followed by the elephant. I, who was in the
rear of the party, was the first to take to flight; the coolies threw
away their pingoes, and my brother-in-law his umbrella, and all ran in
different directions. I hid myself behind a large boulder of granite
nearly covered by jungle: but as my place of concealment was on high
ground, I could see all that was going on below. The first thing I
observed was the elephant returning to the place where one of the
pingoes was lying: he was carrying one of the coolies in a coil of
his trunk. The body of the man was dangling with the head downward.
I cannot say whether he was then alive or not; I could not perceive
any marks of blood or bruises on his person: but he appeared to be
lifeless. The elephant placed him down on the ground, put the pingo
on his (the man’s) shoulder, steadying both the man and the pingo
with his trunk and fore legs. But the man of course did not move or
stand up with his pingo. Seeing this, the elephant again raised the
cooly and dashed him against the ground, and then trampled the body
to a very jelly. This done, he took up the pingo and moved away from
the spot; but at the distance of about a fathom or two, laid it down
again, and ripping open one of the bundles, took out of it all the
contents, _somans_,[102] _cambāyas_,[103] handkerchiefs, and several
pieces of white cambrick cloth, all which he tore to small pieces, and
flung them wildly here and there. He did the same with all the other
pingoes. When this was over the elephant quietly walked away into the
jungle, trumpeting all the way as far as I could hear. When danger was
past I came out of my concealment, and returned to the place where
we had halted that morning. Here the rest of my companions joined me
soon after. The next morning we set out again on our journey, our
party being now increased by some seven or eight traders from Salpity
Corle: but this time we did not meet with the elephant. We found the
mangled corpse of our cooly on the same spot where I had seen it the
day before, together with the torn pieces of my cloths, of which we
collected as fast as we could the few which were serviceable, and
all the brass utensils which were quite uninjured. That elephant was
a noted rogue. He had before this killed many people on that road,
especially those carrying pingoes of coco-nut oil and ghee. He was
afterwards killed by an Englishman. The incidents I have mentioned
above, took place about twenty years ago.”
The following also relates to the same locality. It was narrated to me
by an old Moorman of Barberyn, who, during his earlier years, led the
life of a pedlar.
2. “I and another,” said he, “were on our way to Badulla, one day
some twenty-five or thirty years ago. We were quietly moving along a
path which wound round a hill, when all of a sudden, and without the
slightest previous intimation either by the rustling of leaves or by
any other sign, a huge elephant with short tusks rushed to the path.
Where he had been before I can’t say; I believe he must have been
lying in wait for travellers. In a moment he rushed forward to the
road, trumpeting dreadfully, and seized my companion. I, who happened
to be in the rear, took to flight, pursued by the elephant, which had
already killed my companion by striking him against the ground. I had
not moved more than seven or eight fathoms, when the elephant seized
me, and threw me up with such force, that I was carried high into the
air towards a _Cahata_ tree, whose branches caught me and prevented
my falling to the ground. By this I received no other injury than the
dislocation of one of my wrists. I do not know whether the elephant saw
me after he had hurled me away through the air; but certainly he did
not come to the tree to which I was then clinging: even if he had come,
he couldn’t have done me any more harm, as the branch on which I was
was far beyond the reach of his trunk, and the tree itself too large
for him to pull down. The next thing I saw was the elephant returning
to the corpse of my companion, which he again threw on the ground, and
placing one of his fore-feet on it, he tore it with his trunk limb
after limb; and dabbled in the blood that flowed from the shapeless
mass of flesh which he was still holding under his foot.”
3. “In 1847 or ’46,” said another informant, “I was a superintendent
of a coco-nut estate belonging to Mr. Armitage, situated about twelve
miles from Negombo. A rogue elephant did considerable injury to the
estate at that time; and one day, hearing that it was then on the
plantation, a Mr. Lindsay, an Englishman, who was proprietor of the
adjoining property, and myself, accompanied by some seven or eight
people of the neighbouring village, went out, carrying with us six
rifles loaded and primed. We continued to walk along a path which, near
one of its turns, had some bushes on one side. We had calculated to
come up with the brute where it had been seen half an hour before; but
no sooner had one of our men, who was walking foremost, seen the animal
at the distance of some fifteen or twenty fathoms, than he exclaimed,
‘There! there!’ and immediately took to his heels, and we all followed
his example. The elephant did not see us until we had run some fifteen
or twenty paces from the spot where we turned, when he gave us chase,
screaming frightfully as he came on. The Englishman managed to climb
a tree, and the rest of my companions did the same; as for myself I
could not, although I made one or two superhuman efforts. But there
was no time to be lost. The elephant was running at me with his trunk
bent down in a curve towards the ground. At this critical moment Mr.
Lindsay held out his foot to me, with the help of which and then of
the branches of the tree, which were three or four feet above my head,
I managed to scramble up to a branch. The elephant came directly to
the tree and attempted to force it down, which he could not. He first
coiled his trunk round the stem, and pulled it with all his might, but
with no effect. He then applied his head to the tree, and pushed for
several minutes, but with no better success. He then trampled with his
feet all the projecting roots, moving, as he did so, several times
round and round the tree. Lastly, failing in all this, and seeing a
pile of timber, which I had lately cut, at a short distance from us,
he removed it all (thirty-six pieces) one at a time to the root of the
tree, and piled them up in a regular business-like manner; then placing
his hind feet on this pile, he raised the fore part of his body, and
reached out his trunk, but still he could not touch us, as we were too
far above him. The Englishman then fired, and the ball took effect
somewhere on the elephant’s head, but did not kill him. It made him
only the more furious. The next shot, however, levelled him to the
ground. I afterwards brought the skull of the animal to Colombo, and it
is still to be seen at the house of Mr. Armitage.”
4. “One night a herd of elephants entered a village in the Four Corles.
After doing considerable injury to plaintain bushes and young coco-nut
trees, they retired, the villagers being unable to do anything to
protect their fruit trees from destruction. But one elephant was left
behind, who continued to scream the whole night through at the same
spot. It was then discovered that the elephant, on seeing a jak fruit
on a tree somewhat beyond the reach of his trunk, had raised himself on
his hind legs, placing his fore feet against the stem, in order to lay
hold of the fruit, but unluckily for him there happened to be another
tree standing so close to it that the vacant space between the two
stems was only a few inches. During his attempts to take hold of the
fruit one of his legs happened to get in between the two trees, where,
on account of his weight and his clumsy attempts to extricate himself,
it got so firmly wedged that he could not remove it. and in this
awkward position he remained for some days, till he died on the spot.”
CHAPTER III.
ELEPHANT SHOOTING.
As the shooting of an elephant, whatever endurance and adroitness the
sport may display in other respects, requires the smallest possible
skill as a marksman, the numbers which are annually slain in this way
may be regarded less as a test of the expertness of the sportsman, than
as evidence of the multitudes of elephants abounding in those parts of
Ceylon to which they resort. One officer, Major ROGERS, killed upwards
of 1,400; another, Captain GALLWEY, has the credit of slaying more than
half that number; Major SKINNER, the Commissioner of Roads, almost as
many; and less persevering aspirants follow at humbler distances.[104]
But notwithstanding this prodigious destruction, a reward of a few
shillings per head offered by the Government for taking elephants was
claimed for 3,500 destroyed in part of the northern province alone,
in less than three years prior to 1848; and between 1851 and 1856, a
similar reward was paid for 2,000 in the southern province, between
Galle and Hambangtotte.
Although there is little opportunity in an elephant battue for
the display of proficiency as a shot there is one feature in the
sport, as conducted in Ceylon, which contrasts favourably with the
slaughterhouse details chronicled with revolting minuteness in some
recent accounts of elephant shooting in South Africa. The practice in
Ceylon is to aim invariably at the head, and the sportsman finds his
safety to consist in boldly facing the animal, advancing to within
fifteen paces, and lodging a bullet, either in the temple or in the
hollow over the eye, or in a well-known spot immediately above the
trunk, where the weaker structure of the skull affords an easy access
to the brain.[105] The region of the ear is also a fatal spot, and
often resorted to,—the places I have mentioned in the front of the
head being only accessible when the animal is “charging.” Professor
HARRISON, in his communication to the Royal Irish Academy on the
Anatomy of the Elephant, has rendered an intelligible explanation of
this in the following passage descriptive of the cranium:—“It exhibits
two remarkable facts: _first_, the small space occupied by the brain;
and, _secondly_, the beautiful and curious structure of the bones of
the head. The two tables of all these bones, except the occipital,
are separated by rows of large cells, some from four to five inches
in length, others only small, irregular, and honey-comb-like:—these
all communicate with each other, and, through the frontal sinuses,
with the cavity of the nose, and also with the tympanum or drum of
each ear; consequently, as in some birds, these cells are filled with
air, and thus while the skull attains a great size in order to afford
an extensive surface for the attachment of muscles, and a mechanical
support for the tusks, it is at the same time very light and buoyant in
proportion to its bulk; a property the more valuable as the animal is
fond of water and bathes in deep rivers.”
[Illustration: SECTION OF ELEPHANT’S HEAD.]
Generally speaking, as regards the elephants of Ceylon, a single ball,
planted in the forehead, ends the existence of the noble creature
instantaneously: and expert sportsmen have been known to kill right
and left, one with each barrel; but occasionally an elephant will not
fall before several shots have been lodged in his head. But as regards
the African elephant, Sir S. Baker, the explorer of the Nile, than
whom no one has had greater experience of elephant shooting in both
countries, is of opinion that, owing to a peculiar configuration of the
head, it is next to impossible to kill by a front shot.[106]
Contrasted with this, one reads with a shudder the sickening details of
the African huntsman approaching _behind_ the retiring animal, and of
the torture inflicted by the shower of bullets which tear up its flesh
and lacerate its flank and shoulders.[107]
The shooting of elephants in Ceylon has been described with tiresome
iteration in the successive journals of sporting gentlemen, but one who
turns to their pages for natural traits of the animal and his instincts
is disappointed to find little beyond graphic sketches of the daring
and exploits of his pursuers, most of whom, having had no further
opportunity of observation than is derived from a casual encounter with
the outraged animal, have apparently tried to exalt their own prowess
by misrepresenting the ordinary character of the elephant, describing
it as “savage, wary, and revengeful.”[108]
These epithets may undoubtedly apply to the outcasts from the herd,
the “rogues” or _hora allia_, but so small is the proportion of these
that there is not probably more than one _rogue_ to be found for every
five hundred of those in herds; and it is a manifest error, arising
from imperfect information, to extend this censure to elephants
generally, or to suppose it to be an animal “thirsting for blood, lying
in wait in the jungle to rush on the unwary passer-by, and knowing no
greater pleasure than the act of crushing his victim to a shapeless
mass beneath his feet.”[109] The cruelties practised by hunters have
no doubt taught these sagacious creatures to be cautious and alert,
but their precautions are simply defensive; and beyond the alarm and
apprehension which they evince on the approach of man, they exhibit no
indication of hostility or thirst for blood.
An ordinary traveller seldom comes upon elephants unless after sunset
or towards daybreak, as they go to or return from their nightly visits
to the tanks: but when by accident a herd is disturbed by day, they
evince, if unattacked, no disposition to become assailants; and if the
attitude of defence which they instinctively assume prove sufficient to
check the approach of the intruder, no further demonstration is to be
apprehended.
Even the hunters who go in search of them find them in positions and
occupations altogether inconsistent with the idea of their being
savage, wary, or revengeful. Their demeanour when undisturbed is
indicative of gentleness and timidity, and their actions bespeak
lassitude and indolence, induced not alone by heat, but probably
ascribable in some degree to the fact that the night has been spent in
watchfulness and amusement. A few are generally browsing listlessly
on the trees and plants within reach, others fanning themselves with
leafy branches, and a few are asleep; whilst the young run playfully
among the herd, the emblems of innocence, as the older ones are of
peacefulness and gravity.
Almost every elephant may be observed to exhibit some peculiar action
of the limbs when standing at rest; some move the head monotonously
in a circle, or from right to left; some swing their feet back and
forward; others flap their ears or sway themselves from side to side,
or rise and sink by alternately bending and straightening the fore
knees. As the opportunities of observing this custom have been almost
confined to elephants in captivity, it has been conjectured to arise
from some morbid habit contracted during the length of a voyage by
sea,[110] or from an instinctive impulse to substitute an artificial
motion in lieu of their wonted exercise; but this supposition is
erroneous; the propensity being equally displayed by those at liberty
and those in captivity. When surprised by sportsmen in the depths of
the jungle, individuals of a herd are always to be seen occupied in
swinging their limbs in this manner; and in the corrals which I have
seen, where whole herds have been captured, the elephants, in the midst
of the utmost excitement, and even after the most vigorous charges, if
they halted for a moment in stupor and exhaustion, manifested their
wonted habit, and swung their limbs or swayed their bodies to and fro
incessantly. So far from its being a substitute for exercise, those
in the Government employment in Ceylon are observed to practise their
acquired motion, whatever it may be, with increased vigour when
thoroughly fatigued after excessive work. Even the favourite practice
of fanning themselves with a leafy branch seems less an enjoyment in
itself than a resource when listless and at rest. The term “fidgetty”
seems to describe appropriately the temperament of the elephant.
They evince the strongest love of retirement and a corresponding
dislike to intrusion. The approach of a stranger is perceived less
by the eye, the quickness of which is not remarkable (besides which
its range is obscured by the foliage), than by sensitive smell and
singular acuteness of hearing; and the whole herd is put in instant
but noiseless motion towards some deeper and more secure retreat. The
effectual manner in which an animal of the prodigious size of the
elephant can conceal himself, and the motionless silence which he
preserves, is quite surprising; whilst beaters pass and repass within
a few yards of his hiding place, he will maintain his ground till the
hunter, creeping almost close to his legs, sees his little eye peering
out through the leaves, when, finding himself discovered, the elephant
breaks away with a crash, levelling the brushwood in his headlong
career.
If surprised in open ground, where stealthy retreat is impracticable,
a herd will hesitate in indecision, and, after a few meaningless
movements, stand huddled together in a group, whilst one or two,
more adventurous than the rest, advance a few steps to reconnoitre.
Elephants are generally observed to be bolder in open ground than in
cover, but, if bold at all, far more dangerous in cover than in open
ground.
In searching for them, sportsmen often avail themselves of the
expertness of the native trackers; and notwithstanding the
demonstration of Combe that the brain of the timid Singhalese is
deficient in the organ of destructiveness,[111] he shows an instinct
for hunting, and exhibits in the pursuit of the elephant a courage
and adroitness far surpassing in interest the mere handling of the
rifle, which is the principal share of the proceeding that falls to his
European companions.
The beater on these occasions has the double task of finding the
game and carrying the guns; and, in an animated communication to me,
an experienced sportsman describes “this light and active creature,
with his long glossy hair hanging down his shoulders, every muscle
quivering with excitement; and his countenance lighting up with intense
animation, leaping from rock to rock, as nimble as a chamois, tracking
the gigantic game like a blood-hound, falling behind as he comes up
with it, and as the elephants, baffled and irritated, make the first
stand, passing one rifle into your eager hand and holding the other
ready whilst right and left each barrel performs its mission, and if
fortune does not flag, and the second gun is as successful as the
first, three or four huge carcases are piled one on another within a
space equal to the area of a dining room.”[112]
It is curious that in these encounters the herd never rush forward
in a body, as buffaloes or bisons do, but only one elephant at a time
moves in advance of the rest to confront, or, as it is called, to
“charge,” the assailants. I have heard of but one instance in which
_two_ so advanced as champions of their companions. Sometimes, indeed,
the whole herd will follow a leader, and manœuvre in his rear like a
body of cavalry; but so large a party are necessarily liable to panic;
and, one of them having turned in alarm, the entire body retreat with
terrified precipitation.
As regards boldness and courage, a strange variety of temperament is
observable amongst elephants, but it may be affirmed that they are much
more generally timid than courageous. One herd may be as difficult to
approach as deer, gliding away through the jungle so gently and quickly
that scarcely a trace marks their passage; another, in apparent stupor,
will huddle themselves together like swine, and allow their assailant
to come within a few yards before they break away in terror; and a
third will await his approach without motion, and then advance with
fury to the “charge.”
In individuals the same differences are discernible; one flies on the
first appearance of danger, whilst another, alone and unsupported,
will face a whole host of enemies. When wounded and infuriated with
pain, many of them become literally savage;[113] but, so unaccustomed
are they to act as assailants, and so awkward and inexpert in using
their strength, that they rarely or ever succeed in killing a pursuer
who falls into their power. Although the pressure of a foot, a blow
with the trunk, or a thrust with the tusk, could scarcely fail to prove
fatal, three-fourths of those so overtaken have escaped without serious
injury. So great is this chance of impunity, that the sportsman prefers
to approach within about fifteen paces of the advancing elephant, a
space which gives time for a second fire should the firsts shot prove
ineffectual, and should both fail there is still opportunity for flight.
Amongst full-grown timber, a skilful runner can escape from an elephant
by “dodging” round the trees, but in cleared land, and low brushwood,
the difficulty is much increased, as the small growth of underwood
which obstructs the movements of man presents no obstacle to those of
an elephant. On the other hand, on level and open ground the chances
are rather in favour of the elephant, as his pace in full flight
exceeds that of man, although as a general rule, it is unequal to that
of a horse, as has been sometimes asserted.[114]
The incessant slaughter of elephants by sportsmen in Ceylon, appears
to be merely in subordination to the influence of the organ of
destructiveness, since the carcase is never applied to any useful
purpose, but left to decompose and to defile the air of the forest. The
flesh is occasionally tasted as a matter of curiosity: as a steak it
is coarse and tough; but the tongue is as delicate as that of an ox;
and the foot is said to make palatable soup. The Caffres attached to
the pioneer corps in the Kandyan province are in the habit of securing
the heart of any elephant shot in their vicinity, and say it is their
custom to eat it in Africa. The hide it has been found impracticable
to tan in Ceylon, or to convert to any useful purpose, but the bones
of those shot have of late years been collected and used for manuring
coffee estates. The hair of the tail, which is extremely strong and
horny, is mounted by the native goldsmith, and made into bracelets;
and the teeth are sawn by the Moormen at Galle (as they used to be by
the Romans during a scarcity of ivory) into plates, out of which they
fashion numerous articles of ornament, knife-handles, card racks, and
“presse-papiers.”
NOTE.
Amongst extraordinary recoveries from desperate wounds, I venture to
record here an instance which occurred in Ceylon to a gentleman while
engaged in the chase of elephants, and which, I apprehend, has few
parallels in pathological experience. Lieutenant GERARD FRETZ, of the
Ceylon Rifle Regiment, whilst firing at an elephant in the vicinity
of Fort MacDonald, in Ouvah, was wounded in the face by the bursting
of his fowling-piece, on the 22nd January, 1828. He was then about
thirty-two years of age. On raising him, it was found that part of the
breech of the gun and about two inches of the barrel had been driven
through the frontal sinus at the junction of the nose and forehead.
It had sunk almost perpendicularly till the iron plate called “the
tail-pin,” by which the barrel is made fast to the stock by a screw,
had descended through the palate, carrying with it the screw, one
extremity of which had forced itself into the right nostril, where
it was discernible externally, whilst the headed end lay in contact
with his tongue. To extract the jagged mass of iron thus sunk in the
ethmoidal and sphenoidal cells was found hopelessly impracticable; but
strange to tell, after the inflammation subsided, Mr. FRETZ recovered
rapidly; his general health was unimpaired, and he returned to his
regiment with this singular appendage firmly embedded behind the bones
of his face. He took his turn of duty as usual, attained the command
of his company, participated in all the enjoyments of the mess-room,
and died _eight years afterwards_, on the 1st of April, 1836, not from
any consequences of this fearful wound, but from fever and inflammation
brought on by other causes.
So little was he apparently inconvenienced by the presence of the
strange body in his palate that he was accustomed with his finger
partially to undo the screw, which but for its extreme length he might
altogether have withdrawn. To enable this to be done, and possibly to
assist by this means the extraction of the breech itself through the
original orifice (which never entirely closed), an attempt was made in
1835 to take off a portion of the screw with a file; but, after having
cut it three parts through the operation was interrupted, chiefly
owing to the carelessness and indifference of Capt. FRETZ, whose death
occurred before the attempt could be resumed. The piece of iron, on
being removed after his decease, was found to measure 2-3/4 inches
in length, and weighed two scruples more than two ounces and three
quarters. A cast of the breech and screw now forms No. 2790 amongst the
deposits in the Medical Museum of Chatham.
_PART II._
MODE OF CAPTURE.
CHAPTER I.
AN ELEPHANT CORRAL.
So long as the elephants of Ceylon were merely required in small
numbers for the pageantry of the native princes, or the sacred
processions of the Buddhist temples, their capture was effected either
by the instrumentality of female decoys, or by the artifices and
agility of the individuals and castes who devoted themselves to their
pursuit and training. But after the arrival of the European conquerors
of the island, and when it had become expedient to take advantage of
the strength and intelligence of these creatures in clearing forests
and constructing roads and other works, establishments were organised
on a great scale by the Portuguese and Dutch, and the supply of
elephants kept up by periodical battues conducted at the cost of the
Government, on a plan similar to that adopted on the continent of
India, when herds varying in number from twenty to one hundred and
upwards are driven into concealed enclosures and secured.
In both these processes, success is entirely dependent on the skill
with which the captors turn to advantage the panic and inexperience
of the wild elephant, since all attempts would be futile to subdue or
confine by ordinary force an animal of such strength and sagacity.[115]
KNOX describes with circumstantiality the mode adopted, two centuries
ago, by the servants of the King of Kandy to catch elephants for the
royal stud. He says, “After discovering the retreat of such as have
tusks, unto these they drive some _she elephants_, which they bring
with them for the purpose, which, when once the males have got a sight
of, they will never leave, but follow them wheresoever they go; and
the females are so used to it that they will do whatsoever, either by
word or a beck, their keepers bid them. And so they delude them along
through towns and countries, and through the streets of the city, even
to the very gates of the king’s palace, where sometimes they seize upon
them by snares, and sometimes by driving them into a kind of pound,
they catch them.”[116]
In Nepaul and Burmah, and throughout the Chin-Indian Peninsula, when in
pursuit of single elephants, either _rogues_ detached from the herd,
or individuals who have been marked for the beauty of their ivory,
the natives avail themselves of the aid of females in order to effect
their approaches and secure an opportunity of casting a noose over
the foot of the destined captive. All accounts concur in expressing
high admiration of their courage and address; but from what has fallen
under my own observation, added to the descriptions I have heard from
other eye-witnesses, I am inclined to believe that in such exploits the
Moormen of Ceylon evince a daring and adroitness, surpassing all others.
These professional elephant catchers, or, as they are called,
Panickeas, inhabit the Moorish villages in the north and north-east
of the island, and from time immemorial have been engaged in taking
elephants, which are afterwards trained by Arabs, chiefly for the use
of the rajahs and native princes in the south of India, whose vakeels
are periodically despatched to make purchases in Ceylon.
The ability evinced by these men in tracing elephants through the woods
has almost the certainty of instinct; and hence their services are
eagerly sought by the European sportsmen who go down into their country
in search of game. So keen is their glance, that like hounds running
“breast high” they will follow the course of an elephant, almost
at the top of their speed, over glades covered with stunted grass,
where the eye of a stranger would fail to discover a trace of its
passage, and on through forests strewn with dry leaves, where it seems
impossible to perceive a footstep. Here they are guided by a bent or
broken twig, or by a leaf dropped from the animal’s mouth, on which the
pressure of a tooth may be detected. If at fault, they fetch a circuit
like a setter, till lighting on some fresh marks, they go a-head again
with renewed vigour. So delicate is the sense of smell in the elephant,
and so indispensable is it to go against the wind in approaching him,
that on those occasions when the wind is so still that its direction
cannot be otherwise discerned, the Panickeas will suspend the film of a
gossamer to determine it and shape their course accordingly.
They are enabled by the inspection of the footmarks, when impressed in
soft clay, to describe the size as well as the number of a herd before
it is seen; the height of an elephant at the shoulder being as nearly
as possible twice the circumference of his fore foot.[117]
On overtaking the game their courage is as conspicuous as their
sagacity. If they have confidence in the sportsman for whom they are
finding, they will advance to the very heel of the elephant, slap him
on the quarter, and convert his timidity into anger, till he turns
upon his tormentor and exposes his front to receive the bullet which
awaits him.[118]
So fearless and confident are they, that two men, without aid or
attendants, will boldly attempt to capture the largest-sized elephant.
Their only weapon is a flexible rope made of deer’s or buffalo’s hide,
with which it is their object to secure one of the hind legs. This
they effect either by following in its footsteps when in motion or by
stealing close up to it when at rest, and availing themselves of its
well known propensity at such moments to swing the feet backwards and
forwards, they contrive to slip a noose over the hind leg.
At other times this is achieved by spreading the noose on the ground
partially concealed by roots and leaves beneath a tree on which one of
the party is stationed, whose business it is to lift it suddenly by
means of a cord, raising it on the elephant’s leg at the moment when
his companion has succeeded in provoking him to place his foot within
the circle, the other end having been previously made fast to the stem
of the tree. Should the noosing be effected in open ground, and no tree
of sufficient strength be at hand round which to wind the rope, one
of the Moors, allowing himself to be pursued by the enraged elephant,
entices him towards the nearest grove; where his companion, dexterously
laying hold of the rope as it trails along the ground, suddenly coils
it round a suitable stem, and brings the fugitive to a stand-still.
On finding himself thus arrested, the natural impulse of the captive
is to turn on the man who is engaged in making fast the rope, a
movement which it is the duty of his colleague to prevent by running
up close to the elephant’s head and provoking the animal to confront
him by irritating gesticulations and taunting shouts of _dah! dah!_
a monosyllable, the sound of which the elephant peculiarly dislikes.
Meanwhile the first assailant, having secured one noose, comes up from
behind with another, with which, amidst the vain rage and struggles of
the victim, he entraps a fore leg, the rope being, as before, secured
to another tree in front, and the whole four feet having been thus
entangled, the capture is completed.
A shelter is then run up with branches, to protect the captive from
the sun, and the hunters proceed to build a wigwam for themselves in
front of him, kindling their fires for cooking, and making all the
necessary arrangements for remaining day and night on the spot to await
the process of subduing and taming his rage. In my journeys through
the forest I have come unexpectedly on the halting place of adventurous
hunters when thus engaged; and on one occasion, about sunrise, in
ascending the steep ridge from the bed of the Malwatte river, the
foremost rider of our party was suddenly driven back by the trumpeting
of a furious elephant, which we found picketed by two Panickeas on
the crest of the bank. In such restraint, the elephant soon ceases to
struggle; and what with the exhaustion of rage and resistance, the
terror of fire which he dreads, and the constant annoyance of smoke
which he detests, in a very short time, a few weeks at the most, his
spirit becomes subdued; then being plentifully supplied with plantains
and fresh food, and indulged with water, in which he luxuriates, he
grows so far reconciled to his keepers that they at length venture to
remove him to their own village, and eventually to the sea-side for
shipment to India.
No part of the hunter’s performances exhibits greater skill and
audacity than this first forced march of the recently captured elephant
through the great central forests to the sea-coast. As he is still
too morose to submit to be ridden, and it would be equally impossible
to lead or to drive him by force, the ingenuity of the captors is
displayed in alternately irritating and eluding him, but always so
attracting his attention as to allure him along in the direction in
which they want him to go. Some assistance is derived from the rope by
which the original capture was effected, and which, as it serves to
make him safe at night, is never removed from the leg till his taming
is sufficiently advanced to permit of his being entrusted with partial
liberty.
In Ceylon the principal place for exporting these animals to India is
Manaar, on the western coast, to which the Arabs from the continent
resort, bringing with them horses to be bartered for elephants. In
order to reach the sea, open plains must be traversed, across which it
requires the utmost courage, agility, and patience of the Moors to coax
their reluctant charge. At Manaar the elephants are usually detained
till any wound on the leg caused by the rope has been healed, when the
shipment is effected in the most primitive manner. It being next to
impossible to induce the still untamed creature to walk on board, and
no mechanical contrivances being provided to ship him, a dhoney, or
native boat, of about forty tons’ burthen, and about three parts filled
with the strong ribbed leaves of the Palmyra palm, is brought alongside
the quay in front of the Old Dutch Fort, and lashed so that the gunwale
may be as nearly as possible on a line with the level of the wharf. The
elephant being placed with his back to the water is forced by goads
to retreat till his hind legs go over the side of the quay, but the
main contest commences when it is attempted to disengage his fore feet
from the shore, and force him to entrust himself on board. The scene
becomes exciting from the screams and trumpeting of the elephants, the
shouts of the Arabs, the calls of the Moors, and the rushing of the
crowd. Meanwhile the huge creature strains every nerve to regain the
land; and the day is often consumed before his efforts are overcome,
and he finds himself fairly afloat. The same dhoney will take from
four to five elephants, who place themselves athwart it, and exhibit
amusing adroitness in accommodating their movements to the rolling of
the little vessel; and in this way they are ferried across the narrow
strait which separates Ceylon from the continent of India.[119]
But the feat of ensnaring and subduing a single elephant, courageous
as it is, and demonstrative of the supremacy with which man wields
his “dominion over every beast of the earth,” falls far short of the
daring exploit of capturing a whole herd: when from thirty to one
hundred wild elephants are entrapped in one vast decoy. The mode of
effecting this, as it is practised in Ceylon, is no doubt imitated, but
with considerable modification, from the methods prevalent in various
parts of India. It was introduced by the Portuguese, and continued by
the Dutch, the latter of whom had two elephant hunts in each year,
and conducted their operations on so large a scale, that the annual
export, after supplying the Government establishments, was from one
hundred to one hundred and fifty elephants, taken principally in the
vicinity of Matura, in the southern province, and marched for shipment
to Manaar.[120]
The custom in Bengal is to construct a strong enclosure (called a
_keddah_), in the heart of the forest, formed of the trunks of trees
firmly secured by transverse beams and buttresses, and leaving a
gate for the entrance of the elephants. A second enclosure, opening
from the first, contains water (if possible a rivulet); this, again,
communicates with a third, which terminates in a funnel-shaped passage,
too narrow to admit of an elephant turning, and within this the
captives being driven in line, are secured with ropes introduced from
the outside, and led away in custody of tamed ones trained for the
purpose.
The _keddah_ being prepared, the first operation is to drive the
elephants towards it, for which purpose vast bodies of men fetch a
compass in the forest around the haunts of the herds, contracting it by
degrees till they complete the enclosure of a certain area, round which
they kindle fires, and cut footpaths through the jungle, to enable the
watchers to communicate and combine. All this is performed in cautious
silence and by slow approaches, to avoid alarming the herd. A fresh
circle nearer to the _keddah_ is then formed in the same way, and
into this the elephants are admitted from the first one, the hunters
following from behind, and lighting new fires around the newly inclosed
space. Day after day the process is repeated; till the drove having
been brought sufficiently close to make the final rush, the whole party
close in from all sides, and with drums, guns, shouts, and flambeaux,
force the terrified animals to enter the fatal enclosure, when the
passage is barred behind them, and retreat rendered impossible.
Their efforts to escape are repressed by the crowd, who drive them back
from the stockade with spears and flaming torches; and at last compel
them to pass on into the second inclosure. Here they are detained for
a short time, and their feverish exhaustion relieved by free access
to water;—until at last, being tempted by food, or otherwise induced
to trust themselves in the narrow outlet, they are one after another
made fast by ropes, passed in through the palisade; and picketed in the
adjoining woods to enter on their course of systematic training.
These arrangements vary in different districts of Bengal; and the
method adopted in Ceylon differs in many essential particulars
from them all; the keddah, or, as it is here called, the corral or
_korahl_[121] (from the Portuguese _curral_, a “cattle-pen”), consists
of but one enclosure instead of three. A stream or watering-place
is not uniformly enclosed within it, because, although water is
indispensable after the long thirst and exhaustion of the captives, it
has been found that a pond or rivulet within the corral itself adds to
the difficulty of leading them out, and increases their reluctance to
leave it; besides which, the smaller ones are often smothered by the
others in their eagerness to crowd into the water. The funnel-shaped
outlet is also dispensed with, as the animals are liable to bruise and
injure themselves within the narrow stockade; and should one of them
die in it, as is too often the case in the midst of the struggle, the
difficulty of removing so great a carcase is extreme. The noosing and
securing them, therefore, takes place in Ceylon within the area of the
first enclosure into which they enter, and the dexterity and daring
displayed in this portion of the work far surpasses that of merely
attaching the rope through the openings of the paling, as in an Indian
keddah.
One result of this change in the system is manifested in the increased
proportion of healthy elephants eventually secured and trained out of
the number originally enclosed. The reason of this is obvious: under
the old arrangements, months were consumed in the preparatory steps of
surrounding and driving in the herds, which at last arrived so wasted
by excitement and exhausted by privation that numbers died within the
corral itself, and still more under the process of training. But in
later years the labour of months has been reduced to weeks, and the
elephants are driven in fresh and full of vigour, so that comparatively
few are lost either in the enclosure or the stables. A conception of
the whole operation from commencement to end will be best conveyed
by describing the progress of an elephant corral as I witnessed it
in 1847 in the great forest on the banks of the Alligator River,
the Kimbul-oya, in the district of Kornegalle, about thirty miles
north-west of Kandy.
Kornegalle, or Kurunai-galle, was one of the ancient capitals of the
island, and the residence of its kings from A.D. 1319 to 1347.[122] The
dwelling-house of the principal civil officer in charge of the district
now occupies the site of the former palace, and the ground is strewn
with fragments of columns and carved stones, the remnants of the royal
buildings. The modern town consists of the bungalows of the European
officials, each surrounded with its own garden; two or three streets
inhabited by Dutch descendants and by Moors; and a native bazaar, with
the ordinary array of rice and curry stuffs and cooking chattees of
brass or burnt clay.
The charm of the village is the unusual beauty of its position. It
rests within the shade of an enormous rock of gneiss upwards of 600
feet in height, nearly denuded of verdure, and so rounded and worn by
time that it has acquired the form of a couchant elephant, from which
it derives its name of Aetagalla, the Rock of the Tusker.[123] But
Aetagalla is only the last eminence in a range of similarly-formed
rocky mountains, which here terminate abruptly; and which, from the
fantastic shapes into which their gigantic outlines have been wrought
by the action of the atmosphere, are called by the names of the
Tortoise Rock, the Eel Rock, and the Rock of the Tusked Elephant. So
impressed are the Singhalese by the aspect of these stupendous masses
that in ancient grants lands are conveyed in perpetuity, or “so long
as the sun and the moon, so long as Aetagalla and Andagalla shall
endure.”[124]
Kornegalle is the resort of Buddhists from the remotest parts of the
island, who come to visit an ancient temple on the summit of the great
rock, to which access is had from the valley below by means of steep
paths and steps hewn out of the solid stone. Here the chief object of
veneration is a copy of the sacred footstep hollowed in the granite,
similar to that which confers sanctity on Adam’s Peak, the towering
apex of which, about forty miles distant, the pilgrims can discern from
Aetagalla.
At times the heat at Kornegalle is intense, in consequence of the
perpetual glow diffused from these granite cliffs. The warmth they
acquire during the blaze of noon becomes almost intolerable towards
evening, and the sultry night is too short to permit the rocks to cool
between the setting and the rising of the sun. The district is also
liable to occasional droughts when the watercourses fail, and the tanks
become dry. One of these calamities occurred about the period of my
visit, and such was the suffering of the wild animals that numbers
of crocodiles and bears made their way into the town to drink at the
wells. The soil is prolific in the extreme; rice, cotton, and dry grain
are cultivated largely in the valley. Every cottage is surrounded by
gardens of cocoa-nuts, arecas, jak-fruit and coffee; the slopes, under
tillage, are covered with luxuriant vegetation, and, as far as the
eye can reach on every side, there are dense forests intersected by
streams, in the shade of which the deer and the elephant abound.
In 1847 arrangements were made for one of the great elephant hunts for
the supply of the Civil Engineer’s Department, and the spot fixed on
by Mr. Morris, the Government officer who conducted the corral, was on
the banks of the Kimbul river, about fifteen miles from Kornegalle.
The country over which we rode to the scene of the approaching capture
showed traces of the recent drought, the fields lay to a great extent
untilled, owing to the want of water, and the tanks, almost reduced to
dryness, were covered with the leaves of the rose-coloured lotus.
Our cavalcade was as oriental as the scenery through which it moved;
the Governor and the officers of his staff and household formed a
long cortége, escorted by the native attendants, horse-keepers, and
foot-runners. The ladies were borne in palankins, and the younger
individuals of the party carried in chairs raised on poles, and covered
with cool green awnings made of the fresh leaves of the talipat palm.
After traversing the cultivated lands, the path led across open glades
of park-like verdure and beauty, and at last entered the great forest
under the shade of ancient trees wreathed to their crowns with climbing
plants and festooned by natural garlands of convolvulus and orchids.
Here silence reigned, disturbed only by the murmuring hum of glittering
insects, or the shrill clamour of the plum-headed parroquet and the
flute-like calls of the golden oriole.
We crossed the broad sandy beds of two rivers overarched by tall trees,
the most conspicuous of which is the kombook,[125] from the calcined
bark of which the natives extract a species of lime to be used with
their betel. And from the branches hung suspended over the water the
gigantic pods of the huge puswael bean,[126] the sheath of which
measures six feet long by five or six inches broad.
On ascending the steep bank of the second stream, we found ourselves
in front of the residences which had been extemporised for our party
in the immediate vicinity of the corral. These cool and enjoyable
structures were formed of branches and thatched with palm leaves and
fragrant lemon grass; and in addition to a dining-room and suites of
bedrooms fitted with tent furniture, they included kitchens, stables,
and storerooms, all run up by the natives in the course of a few days.
In former times, the work connected with these elephant hunts was
performed by the “forced labour” of the natives, as part of that feudal
service which under the name of “raja-kariya” was extorted from the
Singhalese during the rule of their native sovereigns. This system was
continued by the Portuguese and Dutch, and prevailed under the British
Government till its abolition by the Earl of Ripon in 1832. Under it
from fifteen hundred to two thousand men under the orders of their
headmen, used to be occupied, in constructing the corral, driving in
the elephants, maintaining the cordon of watch-fires and watchers,
and conducting all the laborious operations of the capture. Since the
abolition of raja-kariya, however, no difficulty has been found in
obtaining the voluntary co-operation of the natives on these exciting
occasions. The Government defrays the expense of that portion of the
preparations which involves actual cost, such as the skilled labour
expended in the erection of the corral and its appurtenances, and the
providing of spears, ropes, arms, flutes, drums, gunpowder, and other
necessaries for the occasion.
The period of the year selected is that which least interferes with
the cultivation of the rice-lands (in the interval between seed time
and harvest), and the people themselves, in addition to the enjoyment
of the sport, have a personal interest in reducing the number of
elephants, which inflict serious injury on their gardens and growing
crops. For a similar reason the priests encourage the practice, because
the elephants destroy their sacred Bo-trees, of the leaves of which
they are passionately fond; besides which it promotes the facility
for obtaining elephants for the processions of the temples: and the
Raté-mahat-meyas and headmen have a pride in exhibiting the number
of retainers who follow them to the field, and the performances of
their tame elephants which they lend for the business of the corral.
Thus vast numbers of the peasantry are voluntarily occupied for many
weeks in putting up the stockades, cutting paths through the jungle,
and relieving the beaters engaged in surrounding and driving in the
elephants.
[Illustration: GROUND PLAN OF A CORRAL.]
[Illustration: METHOD OF FENCING A CORRAL.]
In selecting the scene for an elephant hunt a position is chosen
which lies on some old and frequented route of the animals, in their
periodical migrations in search of forage and water; and the vicinity
of a stream is indispensable, not only for the supply of the elephants
during the time spent in inducing them to approach the enclosure, but
to enable them to bathe and cool themselves throughout the process of
training after capture.
In constructing the corral itself, care is taken to avoid disturbing
the trees or the brushwood within the included space, and especially on
the side by which the elephants are to approach, where it is essential
to conceal the stockade as much as possible by the density of the
foliage. The trees used in the structure are from ten to twelve inches
in diameter; and are sunk about three feet in the earth, so as to leave
a length of from twelve to fifteen feet above ground; with spaces
between each stanchion sufficiently wide to permit a man to glide
through. The uprights are made fast by transverse beams, to which they
are lashed securely by ratans and flexible climbing plants, or as they
are called “jungle ropes,” and the whole is steadied by means of forked
supports, which grasp the tie beams, and prevent the work from being
driven outward by the rush of the wild elephants.
On the occasion I am now attempting to describe, the space thus
enclosed was about 500 feet in length by 250 wide. At one end an
entrance was left open, fitted with sliding bars, so prepared as to
be capable of being instantly shut; and from each angle of the end by
which the elephants were to approach, two lines of the same strong
fencing were continued, and cautiously concealed by the trees; so that
if, instead of entering by the open passage, the herd should swerve to
right or left, they would find themselves suddenly stopped and forced
to retrace their course to the gate.
The preparations were completed by placing a stage for the Governor’s
party on a group of the nearest trees looking down into the enclosure,
so that a view could be had of the entire proceeding, from the entrance
of the herd, to the leading out of the captive elephants.
It is hardly necessary to observe that the structure here described,
massive as it is, would be entirely ineffectual to resist the shock, if
assaulted by the full force of an enraged elephant; and accidents have
sometimes happened by the breaking through of the herd; but reliance is
placed not so much on the resistance of the stockade as on the timidity
of the captives and their unconsciousness of their own strength,
coupled with the daring of their captors and their devices for ensuring
submission.
The corral being prepared, the beaters address themselves to drive
in the elephants. For this purpose it is often necessary to fetch a
circuit of many miles in order to surround a sufficient number, and
the caution to be observed involves patience and delay; as it is
essential to avoid alarming the animals, which might otherwise escape.
Their disposition being essentially peaceful, and their only impulse
to browse in solitude and security, they withdraw instinctively before
the slightest intrusion, and advantage is taken of this timidity and
love of seclusion to cause only just such an amount of disturbance as
will induce them to retire slowly in the direction which it is desired
they should take. Several herds are by this means concentrated within
such an area as will admit of their being completely surrounded by the
watchers; and day after day, by slow degrees, they are moved gradually
onwards towards the immediate confines of the corral. When their
suspicions become awakened and they exhibit restlessness and alarm,
bolder measures are adopted for preventing their escape. Fires are kept
burning at ten paces apart, night and day, along the circumference of
the area within which they are detained; a corps of from two to three
thousand beaters is completed, and pathways are carefully cleared
through the jungle so as to keep open a communication along the entire
circuit. The headmen keep up a constant patrol, to see that their
followers are alert at their posts, since neglect at any one spot might
permit the escape of the herd, and undo in a moment the vigilance of
weeks. By this means any attempt of the elephants to break away is
generally checked, and on any point threatened a sufficient force can
be promptly assembled to drive them back. At last the elephants are
forced onwards so close to the enclosure, that the investing cordon is
united at either end with the wings of the corral, the whole forming a
circuit of about two miles, within which the herd is detained to await
the signal for the final drive.
Two months had been spent in these preliminaries, and the preparations
had been thus far completed, on the day when we arrived and took our
places on the covered stand erected for us, overlooking the entrance
to the corral. Close beneath us a group of tame elephants sent by
the temples and the chiefs to assist in securing the wild ones, were
picketed in the shade, and lazily fanning themselves with leaves. Three
distinct herds, whose united numbers were variously represented at
from forty to fifty elephants, were enclosed, and were at that moment
concealed in the jungle within a short distance of the stockade. Not
a sound was permitted to be made, each person spoke to his neighbour
in whispers, and such was the silence observed by the multitude of the
watchers at their posts, that occasionally we could hear the rustling
of the branches as some of the elephants stripped off a leaf.
Suddenly the signal was made, and the stillness of the forest was
broken by the shouts of the guard, the rolling of the drums and
tom-toms, and the discharge of muskets; and beginning at the most
distant side of the area, the elephants were hurried forward at a rapid
pace towards the entrance into the corral.
The watchers along the line kept silence only till the herd had passed
them, and then joining the riot in their rear they drove them onward
with redoubled shouts and deafening noises. The tumult increased as the
terrified rout drew near, swelling now on one side now on the other, as
the herd in their panic dashed from point to point in their endeavours
to force the line, and the crowd of watchers drove them back with
screams, discharges of muskets, and the discordant roar of drums.
At length the breaking of the branches and the crackling of the
brushwood announced their close approach, and the leader bursting
from the jungle rushed wildly forward to within twenty yards of the
entrance, followed by the rest of the herd. Another moment and they
would have plunged into the open gate, when suddenly they wheeled
round, re-entered the forest, and in spite of the hunters resumed
their original position. The chief headman came forward and accounted
for the freak by saying that a wild pig,[127] an animal which the
elephants are said to dislike, had started out of the cover and run
across the leader, who would otherwise have held on direct for the
corral; and intimated that as the herd was now in the highest pitch
of excitement; and it was at all times much more difficult to effect
a successful capture by daylight than by night, when the fires and
flambeaux act with double effect, it was the wish of the hunters to
defer their final effort till the evening, when the darkness would
greatly aid their exertions.
After sunset the scene exhibited was of extraordinary interest; the low
fires, which had apparently only smouldered in the sunlight, assumed
their ruddy glow amidst the darkness, and threw their tinge over the
groups collected round them; while the smoke rose in eddies through
the rich foliage of the trees. The crowds of spectators maintained a
profound silence, and not a sound was perceptible louder than the hum
of an insect. On a sudden the stillness was broken by the distant roll
of a drum, followed by a discharge of musketry. This was the signal
for the renewal of the assault, and the hunters entered the circle
with yells and clamour; dry leaves and sticks were flung upon the
watch-fires till they blazed aloft, and formed a line of flame on every
side, except in the direction of the corral, which was studiously kept
dark; and thither the terrified elephants betook themselves, followed
by the shouts and racket of their pursuers.
The elephants came on at a rapid pace, trampling down the brushwood and
crushing the dry branches; the leader emerged in front of the corral,
paused for an instant, stared wildly round, and then rushed madly
through the open gate, followed by the rest of the herd. Instantly, as
if by magic, the entire circuit of the corral, which up to this moment
had been kept in profound darkness, blazed with thousands of lights,
every hunter, on the instant that the elephants entered, rushing
forward to the stockade with a torch kindled at the nearest watch-fire.
The elephants first dashed to the very extremity of the enclosure, and
being brought up by the fence, retreated to regain the gate, but found
it closed. Their terror was sublime: they hurried round the corral at a
rapid pace, but saw it now girt by fire on every side; they attempted
to force the stockade, but were driven back by the guards with spears
and flambeaux; and on whichever side they approached they were repulsed
with shouts and volleys of musketry. Collecting into one group, they
would pause for a moment in apparent bewilderment, then burst off in
another direction, as if it had suddenly occurred to them to try some
point which they had before overlooked; but, again baffled, they slowly
returned to their forlorn resting-place in the centre of the corral.
The attraction of this strange scene was not confined to the
spectators; it extended to the tame elephants which were stationed
outside. At the first approach of the flying herd they evinced the
utmost interest. Two in particular which were picketed near the front
were intensely excited, and continued tossing their heads, pawing
the ground, and starting as the noise drew near. At length, when
the grand rush into the corral took place, one of them fairly burst
from her fastenings and rushed towards the herd, levelling a tree of
considerable size which obstructed her passage.[128]
For upwards of an hour the elephants continued to traverse the corral
and assail the palisade with unabated energy, trumpeting and screaming
with rage after each disappointment. Again and again they attempted to
force the gate, as if aware, by experience, that it ought to afford
an exit as it had already served as an entrance, but they shrank back
stunned and bewildered. By degrees their efforts became less and less
frequent. Single ones rushed excitedly here and there, returning
sullenly to their companions after each effort; and at last the whole
herd, stupefied and exhausted, formed themselves into a single group,
drawn up in a circle with the young in the centre, and stood motionless
under the dark shade of the trees in the middle of the corral.
Preparations were now made to keep watch during the night, the guard
was reinforced around the enclosure, and wood heaped on the fires to
keep up a high flame till sunrise.
Three herds had been originally entrapped by the beaters outside;
but with characteristic instinct they had each kept clear of the
other, taking up different stations in the space invested by the
watchers. When the final drive took place one herd only had entered
the enclosure, the other two keeping behind; and as the gate had to
be instantly shut on the first division, the last were unavoidably
excluded and remained concealed in the jungle. To prevent their escape,
the watchers were ordered to their former stations, the fires were
replenished; and all precautions having been taken, we returned to pass
the night in our bungalows by the river.
CHAPTER II.
THE CAPTIVES.
As our sleeping-place was not above two hundred yards from the corral,
we were awakened frequently during the night by the din of the
multitude who were bivouacking in the forest, by the merriment round
the watch-fires, and now and then by the shouts with which the guards
repulsed some sudden charge of the elephants in attempts to force the
stockade. But at daybreak, on going down to the corral, we found all
still and vigilant. The fires were allowed to die out as the sun rose,
and the watchers who had been relieved were sleeping near the great
fence, the enclosure on all sides being surrounded by crowds of men and
boys with spears or white peeled wands about ten feet long, whilst the
elephants within were huddled together in a compact group, no longer
turbulent and restless, but exhausted and calm, and utterly subdued by
apprehension and amazement at all that had been passing around them.
Nine only had been as yet entrapped,[129] of which three were very
large, and two were little creatures but a few months old. One of the
large ones was a “rogue,” and being unacknowledged by the rest of the
herd, he was not admitted to their circle, although permitted to stand
near them.
Meanwhile, preparations were making outside to conduct the tame
elephants into the corral, in order to secure the captives. Noosed
ropes were in readiness; and far apart from all stood a party of the
out-caste Rodiyas, the only tribe who will touch a dead carcass, to
whom, therefore, the duty is assigned of preparing the fine flexible
rope for noosing, which is made from the fresh hides of the deer and
the buffalo.
At length, the bars which secured the entrance to the corral were
cautiously withdrawn, and two trained elephants passed stealthily in,
each ridden by its mahout (or _ponnekella_, as the keeper is termed in
Ceylon), and one attendant; and carrying a strong collar, formed by
coils of rope made from coco-nut fibre, from which hung on either side
cords of elk’s hide, prepared with a ready noose. Along with these,
and concealed behind them, the headmen of the “_cooroowe_” or noosers,
crept in, eager to secure the honour of taking the first elephant, a
distinction which this class jealously contests with the mahouts of the
chiefs and temples. He was a wiry little man, nearly seventy years old,
who had served in the same capacity under the last Kandyan king, and he
wore two silver bangles, which had been conferred on him in testimony
of his prowess. He was accompanied by his son, named Ranghani, equally
renowned for his courage and dexterity.
On this occasion ten tame elephants were in attendance; two were the
property of an adjoining temple (one of which had been caught but the
year before, yet it was now ready to assist in capturing others),
four belonged to the neighbouring chiefs, and the rest, including
the two which first entered the corral, were part of the Government
stud. Of the latter, one was of great age, having been in the service
of the Dutch and English Governments in succession for upwards of a
century.[130] The other, called by her keeper “Siribeddi,” was about
fifty years old, and distinguished for gentleness and docility. She
was a most accomplished decoy, and evinced the utmost relish for the
sport. Having entered the corral noiselessly, carrying a mahout on
her shoulders with the headman of the noosers seated behind him, she
moved slowly along with a sly composure and an assumed air of easy
indifference; sauntering leisurely in the direction of the captives,
and halting now and then to pluck a bunch of grass or a few leaves as
she passed. As she approached the herd, they put themselves in motion
to meet her, and the leader, having advanced in front and passed
his trunk gently over her head, turned and paced slowly back to his
dejected companions. Siribeddi followed with the same listless step,
and drew herself up close behind him, thus affording the nooser an
opportunity to stoop under her and slip the noose over the hind foot
of the wild one. The latter instantly perceived his danger, shook off
the rope, and turned to attack the man. He would have suffered for
his temerity had not Siribeddi protected him by raising her trunk and
driving the assailant into the midst of the herd, when the old man,
being slightly wounded, was helped out of the corral, and his son,
Ranghani, took his place.
The herd again collected in a circle, with their heads towards the
centre. The largest male was singled out, and two tame ones pushed
boldly in, one on either side of him, till the three stood nearly
abreast. He made no resistance, but betrayed his uneasiness by shifting
restlessly from foot to foot. Ranghani now crept up, and, holding the
rope open with both hands (its other extremity being made fast to
Siribeddi’s collar), and watching the instant when the wild elephant
lifted its hind-foot, succeeded in passing the noose over its leg, drew
it close, and fled to the rear. The two tame elephants instantly fell
back, Siribeddi stretched the rope to its full length, and, whilst she
dragged out the captive, her companion placed himself between her and
the herd to prevent any interference.
[Illustration: NOOSING WILD ELEPHANTS.]
In order to tie him to a tree he had to be drawn backwards some twenty
or thirty yards, making furious resistance, bellowing in terror,
plunging on all sides, and crushing the smaller timber, which bent
like reeds beneath his clumsy struggles. Siribeddi drew him steadily
after her, and wound the rope round the proper tree, holding it all the
time at its full tension, and stepping cautiously across it when,
in order to give it a second turn, it was necessary to pass between
the tree and the elephant. With a coil round the stem, however, it
was beyond her strength to haul the prisoner close up, which was,
nevertheless, necessary in order to make him perfectly fast; but the
second tame one, perceiving the difficulty, returned from the herd,
confronted the struggling prisoner, pushed him shoulder to shoulder,
and head to head, forcing him backwards, whilst at every step Siribeddi
hauled in the slackened rope till she brought him fairly up to the foot
of the tree, where he was made fast by the cooroowe people. A second
noose was then passed over the other hind-leg, and secured like the
first, both legs being afterwards hobbled together by ropes made from
the fibre of the kitool or jaggery palm, which, being more flexible
than that of the coco nut, occasions less formidable ulcerations. The
two decoys then ranged themselves, as before, abreast of the prisoner
on either side, thus enabling Ranghani to stoop under them and noose
the two fore-feet as he had already done the hind; and these ropes
being made fast to a tree in front, the capture was complete, and the
tame elephants and keepers withdrew to repeat the operation on another
of the herd.
[Illustration]
As long as the tame ones stood beside him the poor animal remained
comparatively calm and almost passive under his distress, but the
moment they moved off, and he was left utterly alone, he made the most
surprising efforts to set himself free and rejoin his companions. He
felt the ropes with his trunk and tried to untie the numerous knots;
he drew backwards to liberate his fore-legs, then leaned forward to
extricate the hind ones, till every branch of the tall tree quivered
with his struggles. He screamed in anguish, with his proboscis raised
high in air, then falling on his side he laid his head to the ground,
first his cheek and then his brow, and pressed down his doubled-in
trunk as though he would force it into the earth; then suddenly
rising he balanced himself on his forehead and fore-legs, holding his
hind-feet fairly off the ground. This scene of distress continued
some hours, with occasional pauses of apparent stupor, after which
the struggle was from time to time renewed convulsively, and as if
by some sudden impulse; but at last the vain strife subsided, and the
poor animal remained perfectly motionless, the image of exhaustion and
despair.
Meanwhile Ranghani presented himself in front of the Governor’s stage
to claim the accustomed largesse for tying the first elephant. He was
rewarded by a shower of rupees, and retired to resume his perilous
duties in the corral.
[Illustration]
The rest of the herd were now in a state of pitiable dejection, and
pressed closely together as if under a sense of common misfortune. For
the most part they stood at rest in a compact body, fretful and uneasy.
At intervals one more impatient than the rest would move out a few
steps to reconnoitre; the others would follow at first slowly, then at
a quicker pace, and at last the whole herd would rush off furiously to
renew the often-baffled attempt to storm the stockade.
There was a strange combination of the sublime and the ridiculous in
these abortive onsets; the appearance of prodigious power in their
ponderous limbs, coupled with the almost ludicrous shuffle of their
clumsy gait, and the fury of their apparently resistless charge,
converted in an instant into timid retreat. They rushed madly down
the enclosure, their backs arched, their tails extended, their ears
spread, and their trunks raised high above their heads, trumpeting and
uttering shrill screams, yet when one step further would have dashed
the opposing fence into fragments, they stopped short on a few white
rods being pointed at them through the paling;[131] and, on catching
the derisive shouts of the crowd, they turned in utter discomfiture,
and after an objectless circle through the corral, they paced slowly
back to their melancholy halting-place in the shade.
The crowd, chiefly comprised of young men and boys, exhibited
astonishing nerve and composure at such moments, rushing up to the
point towards which the elephants charged, pointing their wands at
their trunks, and keeping up the continual cry of _whoop! whoop!_ which
invariably turned them to flight.
The second victim singled out from the herd was secured in the same
manner as the first. It was a female. The tame ones forced themselves
in on either side as before, cutting her off from her companions,
whilst Ranghani stooped under them to attach the fatal noose, and
Siribeddi dragged her out amidst unavailing struggles, when she was
made fast by each leg to the nearest group of strong trees. When the
noose was placed upon her fore-foot, she seized it with her trunk and
succeeded in carrying it to her mouth, where she would speedily have
severed it had not a tame elephant interfered, and placing his foot
on the rope pressed it downwards out of her jaws. The individuals who
acted as leaders in the successive charges on the palisades were always
those selected by the noosers, and the operation of tying each, from
the first approaches of the decoys, till the captive was left alone by
the tree, occupied on an average somewhat less than three-quarters of
an hour.
It is strange that in these encounters the wild elephants made no
attempt to attack or dislodge the mahouts or the cooroowes, who rode on
the tame ones. They moved in the very midst of the herd, any individual
in which could in a moment have pulled the riders from their seats; but
no attempt was made to molest them.[132]
[Illustration]
As one after another their leaders were entrapped and forced away
from them, the remainder of the group evinced increased emotion and
excitement; but whatever may have been their sympathy for their lost
companions, their alarm seemed to prevent them at first from following
them to the trees to which they had been tied. In passing them
afterwards they sometimes stopped, mutually entwined their trunks,
lapped them round each other’s limbs and neck, and exhibited the most
touching distress at their detention, but made no attempt to disturb
the cords that bound them.
The variety of disposition in the herd as evidenced by difference of
demeanour was very remarkable: some submitted with comparatively little
resistance; whilst others in their fury dashed themselves on the ground
with a force sufficient to destroy any weaker animal. They vented their
rage upon every tree and plant within reach; if small enough to be
torn down, they levelled them with their trunks, and stripping them of
their leaves and branches, tossed them wildly over their heads on all
sides. Some in their struggles made no noise, whilst others bellowed
and trumpeted furiously, then uttered short convulsive screams, and at
last, exhausted and hopeless, gave vent to their anguish in low and
piteous moanings. Some, after a few violent efforts of this kind, lay
motionless on the ground, with no other indication of suffering than
the tears which suffused their eyes and flowed incessantly. Others in
all the vigour of their rage exhibited the most surprising contortions;
and to us who had been accustomed to associate with the unwieldy
bulk of the elephant the idea that he must of necessity be stiff and
inflexible, the attitudes into which they forced themselves were
scarcely credible. I saw one lie with the cheek pressed to the earth,
and the fore-legs stretched in front, whilst the body was twisted round
till the hind legs extended in the opposite direction.
It was astonishing that their trunks were not wounded by the violence
with which they flung them on all sides. One twisted his proboscis into
such fantastic shapes, that it resembled the writhings of a gigantic
worm; he coiled it and uncoiled it with restless rapidity, suddenly
unfolding it to its full length, and coiling it up again like a
watch-spring. Another, which lay otherwise motionless in all the stupor
of hopeless anguish, slowly beat the ground with the extremity of his
trunk, as a man in despair beats his knee with the palm of his hand.
[Illustration]
They displayed an amount of sensitiveness and delicacy of touch in the
foot, which was very remarkable in a limb of such clumsy dimensions and
protected by so thick a covering. The noosers could always force them
to lift it from the ground by the gentlest touch of a leaf or twig,
apparently applied so as to tickle; but the imposition of the rope
was instantaneously perceived, and if it could not be reached by the
trunk the other foot was applied to feel its position, and if possible
remove it before the noose could be drawn tight.
One practice was incessant with almost the entire herd: in the
intervals between their struggles they beat the ground with their
fore-feet, and taking up the dry earth in a coil of the trunk, they
flung it dexterously over every part of their body. Even when lying
down the sand within reach was thus collected and scattered over their
limbs; then inserting the extremity of the trunk in their mouths, they
withdrew a quantity of water, which they discharged over their backs,
repeating the operation again and again, till the dust was thoroughly
saturated. I was astonished at the quantity of water thus applied,
which was sufficient when the elephant, as was generally the case, had
worked the spot where he lay into a hollow, to convert its surface into
a coating of mud. Seeing that the herd had been now twenty-four hours
without access to water of any kind, surrounded by watch-fires, and
exhausted by struggling and terror, the supply of moisture an elephant
is capable of containing in the receptacle attached to his stomach must
be very considerable.
The conduct of the tame ones during all these proceedings was truly
wonderful. They displayed the most perfect conception of every
movement, both of the object to be attained, and of the means to
accomplish it. They manifested the utmost enjoyment in what was going
on. There was no ill-humour, no malignity in the spirit displayed,
in what was otherwise a heartless proceeding, but they set about
it in a way that showed a thorough relish for it, as an agreeable
pastime. Their caution was as remarkable as their sagacity; there
was no hurrying, no confusion, they never ran foul of the ropes, were
never in the way of the animals already noosed; and amidst the most
violent struggles, when the tame ones had frequently to step across
the captives, they in no instance trampled on them, or occasioned the
slightest accident or annoyance. So far from this, they saw intuitively
a difficulty or a danger, and addressed themselves unbidden to remove
it. In tying up one of the larger elephants, he contrived before he
could be hauled close up to the tree, to walk once or twice round it,
carrying the rope with him; the decoy, perceiving the advantage he had
thus gained over the nooser, walked up of her own accord, and pushed
him backwards with her head, till she made him unwind himself again;
upon which the rope was hauled tight and made fast. More than once,
when a wild one was extending his trunk, and would have intercepted
the rope about to be placed over his leg, Siribeddi, by a sudden
motion of her own trunk, pushed his aside, and prevented him; and on
one occasion, when successive efforts had failed to put the noose over
the fore-leg of an elephant which was already secured by one foot, but
which wisely put the other to the ground as often as it was attempted
to pass the noose under it, I saw the decoy watch her opportunity, and
when his foot was again raised, suddenly push in her own leg beneath
it, and hold it up till the noose was attached and drawn tight.
[Illustration: ATTITUDES OF CAPTURED ELEPHANTS.]
One could almost fancy there was a display of dry humour in the manner
in which the decoys thus played with the fears of the wild herd, and
made light of their efforts at resistance. When reluctant they
shoved them forward, when violent they drove them back; when the wild
ones threw themselves down, the tame ones butted them with head and
shoulders, and forced them up again. And when it was necessary to keep
them down, they knelt upon them, and prevented them from rising, till
the ropes were secured.
[Illustration]
At every moment of leisure they fanned themselves with a bunch of
leaves, and the graceful ease with which an elephant uses his trunk
on such occasions is very striking. It is doubtless owing to the
combination of a circular with a horizontal movement in that flexible
limb; but it is impossible to see an elephant fanning himself without
being struck by the singular elegance of motion which he displays. The
tame ones, too, indulged in the luxury of dusting themselves with sand,
by flinging it from their trunks; but it was a curious illustration of
their delicate sagacity, that so long as the mahout was on their necks,
they confined themselves to flinging the dust along their sides and
stomach, as if aware, that to throw it over their heads and back would
cause annoyance to their riders.
One of the decoys which rendered good service, and was obviously held
in special awe by the wild herd, was a tusker belonging to Dehigame
Raté-mahat-meya. It was not that he used his tusks for purposes of
offence, but he was enabled to insinuate himself between two elephants
by wedging them in where he could not force his head; besides which
they assisted him in raising up the fallen and refractory with greater
ease. In some instances where the intervention of the other decoys
failed to reduce a wild one to order, the mere presence and approach of
the tusker seemed to inspire fear, and insure submission, without more
active intervention.
I do not know whether it was the surprising qualities exhibited by the
tame elephants that cast the courage and dexterity of the men into
the shade, but even when supported by the presence, the sagacity, and
co-operation of these wonderful creatures, the part sustained by the
noosers can bear no comparison with the address and daring displayed
by the _picador_ and _matador_ in a Spanish bull-fight. They certainly
possessed great quickness of eye in watching the slightest movement
of the elephant, and great expertness in flinging the noose over its
foot and attaching it firmly before the animal could tear it off
with its trunk; but in all this they had the cover of the decoys to
conceal them; and their shelter behind which to retreat. Apart from
the services which, from their prodigious strength, the tame elephants
alone are capable of rendering, in dragging out and securing the
captives, it is perfectly obvious that without their co-operation
the utmost prowess and dexterity of the hunters would not avail nor
embolden them, unsupported, to enter the corral and ensnare and lead
out a single captive.
Of the two tiny elephants which were entrapped, one was about ten
months old, the other somewhat more. The smaller one had a little bolt
head covered with woolly brown hair, and was the most amusing and
interesting miniature imaginable. Both kept constantly with the herd,
trotting after them in every charge; when the others stood at rest they
ran in and out between the legs of the older ones; and not their own
mothers alone, but every female in the group, caressed them in turn.
The dam of the youngest was the second elephant singled out by the
noosers, and as she was dragged along by the decoys, the little
creature kept by her side till she was drawn close to the fatal tree.
The men at first were rather amused than otherwise by its anger; but
they found that it would not permit them to place the second noose upon
its mother; it ran between her and them, it tried to seize the rope,
it pushed them and struck them with its little trunk, till they were
forced to drive it back to the herd. It retreated slowly, shouting
all the way, and pausing at every step to look back. It then attached
itself to the largest female remaining in the group, and placed itself
across her fore legs, whilst she hung down her trunk over its side
and soothed and caressed it. Here it continued moaning and lamenting,
till the noosers had left off securing its mother, when it instantly
returned to her side; but as it became troublesome again, attacking
every one who passed, it was at last tied up by a rope to an adjoining
tree, to which the other young one was also tied. The second little
one, equally with its playmate, exhibited great affection for its dam;
it went willingly with its captor as far as the tree to which she was
fastened, and in passing her stretched out its trunk and tried to
rejoin her; but finding itself forced along, it struggled and caught
at every twig and branch within its reach, screaming with grief and
disappointment.
These two little creatures were the most vociferous of the whole herd,
their shouts were incessant, they struggled to attack everyone within
reach; and as their bodies were more lithe and pliant than those of
greater growth, their contortions were quite wonderful. The most
amusing thing was, that in the midst of all their agony and affliction,
the little fellows seized on every article of food that was thrown to
them, and munched and roared simultaneously.
Amongst the last of the elephants noosed was the _rogue_. Though far
more savage than the others, he joined in none of their charges and
assaults on the fences, as they uniformly drove him off and would not
permit him to enter their circle. When dragged past another of his
companions in misfortune, who was lying exhausted on the ground, he
flew upon him and attempted to fasten his teeth in his head; this was
the only instance of viciousness which occurred during the progress
of the corral. When tied up and overpowered, he was at first noisy
and violent, but soon lay down peacefully, a sign, according to the
hunters, that his death was at hand. Their prognostication proved to be
correct; he continued for about twelve hours to cover himself with dust
like the others, and to moisten it with water from his trunk; but at
length he sunk exhausted, and died so calmly, that having been moving
but a few moments before, his death was only perceived by the myriads
of black flies by which his body was almost instantly covered, although
not one was visible a moment before.[133] The Rodiyas were called in
to loose from the tree the ropes that bound him, and two tame elephants
being harnessed to the dead body, it was dragged to a distance without
the corral.
When every wild elephant had been noosed and tied up, the scene
presented was truly oriental. From one to two thousand natives, many
of them in gaudy dresses and armed with spears, crowded about the
enclosures. Their families too had collected from great distances to
see the spectacle; women, whose children clung like little bronzed
Cupids by their sides; and girls, many of them in the graceful costume
of that part of the country,—a scarf, which, after having been brought
round the waist, is thrown over the left shoulder, leaving the right
arm and side free and uncovered.
At the foot of each tree was its captive elephant; some still
struggling and writhing in feverish excitement, whilst others, in
exhaustion and despair, lay calm and motionless, except that, from time
to time, they heaped fresh dust upon their heads. The mellow notes of
a Kandyan flute, which was played at a distance, had a striking effect
upon one or more of them; they turned their heads in the direction from
which the music came, expanded their broad ears, and were evidently
soothed with the plaintive sound. The two little ones alone still
roared for freedom; they stamped their feet, and blew clouds of dust
over their shoulders, brandishing their little trunks aloft, and
threatened every one who came within their reach.
At first the older ones, when secured, spurned every offer of food,
trampled it under foot, and turned haughtily away. A few, however, as
they became more composed, could not resist the temptation of the juicy
stems of the plantain, but rolling them under foot, till they detached
the layers, they raised them in their trunks, and commenced to chew
them listlessly.
On the whole, whilst the sagacity, the composure, and docility of
the decoys were such as to excite lively astonishment, it was not
possible to withhold high admiration from the calm and dignified
demeanour of the captives. Their entire bearing was at variance with
the representation made by some of the “sportsmen” who harass them,
that they are treacherous, savage, and revengeful; when tormented by
the guns of their persecutors, they no doubt display their powers and
sagacity in efforts to retaliate or escape; but here their every
movement was indicative of innocence and timidity. After a struggle,
in which they evinced no disposition to violence or revenge, they
submitted with the calmness of despair. Their attitudes were pitiable,
their grief was most touching, and their low moaning went to the heart.
We could not have borne to witness their distress had their capture
been effected by the needless infliction of pain, or had they been
destined to ill-treatment afterwards.
It was now about two hours after noon, and the first elephants that
had entered the corral having been disposed of, preparations were
made to reopen the gate, and drive in the other two herds, over which
the watchers were still keeping guard. The area of the inclosure was
cleared; and silence was again imposed on the crowds who surrounded the
corral. The bars that secured the entrance were withdrawn, and every
precaution repeated as before; but as the space inside was now somewhat
trodden down, especially near the entrance, by the frequent charges of
the last herd, and as it was to be apprehended that the others might be
earlier alarmed and retrace their steps, before the barricades could
be replaced, two tame ones were stationed inside to protect the men to
whom that duty was assigned.
All preliminaries being at length completed, the signal was given;
the beaters on the side most distant from the corral closed in with
tom-toms and discordant noises; a hedge-fire of musketry was kept up
in the rear of the terrified elephants; thousands of voices urged
them forward; we heard the jungle crashing as they came on, and at
last they advanced through an opening amongst the trees, bearing
down all before them like a charge of locomotives. They were led by a
huge female, nearly nine feet high, after whom one half of the herd
dashed precipitately through the narrow entrance, but the rest, turning
suddenly towards the left, succeeded in forcing the cordon of guards
and making good their escape to the forest.
No sooner had the others passed in through the gate, than the tame
elephants stepped forward from either side, and before the herd could
return from the further end of the enclosure, the bars were replaced,
the entrance closed, and the men in charge glided outside the stockade.
The elephants which had previously been made prisoners within exhibited
intense excitement as the fresh din arose around them; they started to
their feet, and stretched their trunks in the direction whence they
winded the scent of the herd in its headlong flight; and as the latter
rushed past, they renewed their struggles to get free and follow. It is
not possible to imagine anything more exciting than the spectacle which
the wild ones presented careering round the corral, uttering piercing
screams, with heads erect and trunks aloft, the very emblems of rage
and perplexity, of power and helplessness.
Along with those which entered at the second drive was one that
evidently belonged to another herd, and had been separated from it in
the _melee_ when the latter effected their escape, and, as usual, his
new companions in misfortune drove him off indignantly as often as he
attempted to approach them.
The demeanour of those taken in the second drive differed materially
from that of the preceding captives, who, having entered the corral in
darkness, suddenly found themselves girt with fire and smoke, and beset
by hideous sounds and sights on every side, and were speedily reduced
by fear to stupour and submission—whereas, the second herd having
passed into the enclosure by daylight, and its area being trodden down
in many places, could clearly discern the fences, and were consequently
alarmed and enraged at their confinement. They were thus as restless as
the others had been calm, and so much more vigorous in their assaults
that, on one occasion, their courageous leader, undaunted by the
multitude of white wands thrust towards her, was only driven back from
the stockade by a hunter hurling a blazing flambeau at her head. Her
attitude as she stood repulsed, but still irresolute, was a study for
a painter. Her eye dilated, her ears expanded, her back arched like
a tiger, and her fore-foot in air, whilst she uttered those hideous
screams that are imperfectly described by the term “_trumpeting_.”
Although repeatedly passing by the unfortunates from the former drove,
the new herd seemed to take no friendly notice of them; they halted
inquiringly for a minute, and then resumed their career round the
corral, and once or twice in their headlong flight they rushed madly
over the bodies of the prostrate captives as they lay in their misery
on the ground.
It was evening before the new captives had grown wearied with their
furious and repeated charges, and stood still in the centre of the
corral collected into a terrified and motionless group. The fires were
then relighted, the guards redoubled by the addition of the beaters,
who were now relieved from the duty of watching in the forest, and the
spectators retired to their bungalows for the night.
The business of the _third day_ began by noosing and tying up the
new captives, and the first sought out was their magnificent leader.
Siribeddi and the tame tusker having forced themselves on either side
of her, a boy in the service of the rata-mahat-meya succeeded in
attaching a rope to her hind-foot. Siribeddi moved off, but feeling
her strength insufficient to drag the reluctant prize, she went down
on her fore-knees, so as to add the full weight of her body to the
pull. The tusker, seeing her difficulty, placed himself in front of the
prisoner, and forced her backwards, step by step, till his companion
brought her fairly up to the tree, and wound the rope round the stem.
Though overpowered by fear, she showed the fullest sense of the nature
of the danger she had to apprehend. She kept her head turned towards
the noosers, and tried to step in advance of the decoys; in spite of
all their efforts, she tore off the first noose from her fore-leg, and
placing it under her foot, snapped it into fathom lengths. When finally
secured, her writhings were extraordinary. She doubled in her head
under her chest, till she lay as round as a hedgehog, and rising again,
stood on her fore-feet, and lifting her hind-feet off the ground, she
wrung them from side to side, till the great tree above her trembled in
every branch.
Before proceeding to catch the remainder we requested that the
smaller trees and jungle, which partially obstructed our view, might
be broken away, being no longer essential to screen the entrance to
the corral; and five of the tame elephants were brought up for the
purpose. They felt the strength of each tree with their trunks, then
swaying it backwards and forwards, by pushing it with their foreheads,
they watched the opportunity when it was in full swing to raise their
fore-feet against the stem, and bear it down to the ground.[134] Then
tearing off the festoons of climbing plants, and trampling down the
smaller branches and brushwood, they pitched them with their tusks,
piling them into heaps along the side of the fence.
Amongst the last that was secured was the solitary individual belonging
to the fugitive herd. When the tame one attempted to drag him backwards
from the tree near which he was noosed, he laid hold of it with his
trunk and lay down on his side immoveable. The temple tusker and
another were ordered up to assist, and it required the combined efforts
of the three elephants to force him along. When dragged to the place at
which he was to be tied up, he continued the contest with desperation,
and to prevent the second noose being placed on his foot, he sat down
on his haunches, almost in the attitude of the “Florentine Boar,”
keeping his hind-feet beneath him, and defending his fore-feet with his
trunk, with which he flung back the rope as often as it was attempted
to attach it.
When overpowered and made fast, his grief was most affecting; his
violence sunk to utter prostration, and he lay on the ground, uttering
choking cries, with tears trickling down his cheeks.
[Illustration]
The last operation of the corral was that of slackening the ropes, and
marching each captive elephant down to the river between two tame ones.
This was effected very simply. A decoy, with a strong collar round its
neck, stood on either side of the wild one, on which a similar collar
was formed by successive coils of coco-nut rope; and then, connecting
the three collars together, the prisoner was effectually made safe
between his two guards. During this operation, it was curious to see
how the tame elephant, from time to time, used its trunk to shield the
arm of its rider, and ward off the trunk of the prisoner, who resisted
the placing the rope round his neck. This done, the nooses were removed
from his feet, and he was marched off to the river, in which he and
his companions were allowed to bathe; a privilege of which all availed
themselves eagerly. Each was then made fast to a tree in the forest,
and keepers being assigned to him, with a retinue of leaf-cutters, he
was plentifully supplied with his favourite food, and left to the care
and tuition of his new masters.
Returning from a spectacle such as I have attempted to describe, one
cannot help feeling how immeasurably it exceeds in interest those royal
battues where timid deer are driven in crowds to unresisting slaughter;
or those vaunted “wild sports” the amusement of which appears to be in
proportion to the effusion of blood. Here the only display of power
was the imposition of restraint; and though considerable mortality
often occurs amongst the animals caught, the infliction of pain, so far
from being an incident of the operation, is cautiously avoided, from
its tendency to enrage, the policy of the captor being to conciliate
and soothe. The whole scene exhibits the most marvellous example of
the voluntary alliance of animal sagacity and instinct in active
cooperation with human intelligence and courage; and nothing else
in nature, not even the chase of the whale, can afford so vivid an
illustration of the sovereignty of man over brute creation even when
confronted with force in its most stupendous embodiment.
Of the two young elephants which were taken in the corral, the
smallest was sent down to my house at Colombo, where he became a
general favourite with the whole family. He attached himself especially
to the coachman, who had a little shed erected for him near his own
quarters at the stables. But his favourite resort was the kitchen,
where he received a daily allowance of milk and plantains, and
picked up other delicacies besides. He was innocent and playful in
the extreme, and when walking in the grounds he would trot up to me,
twine his little trunk round my arm, and coax me to take him to the
fruit-trees. In the evening the grass cutters now and then indulged
him by permitting him to carry home a load of fodder for the horses,
on which occasions he assumed an air of gravity that was highly
amusing, showing that he was deeply impressed with the importance
and responsibility of the service entrusted to him. Being sometimes
permitted to enter the dining-room, and helped to fruit at dessert,
he at last learned his way to the sideboard; and on more than one
occasion, having stolen in during the absence of the servants, he made
a clear sweep of the wine-glasses and china in his endeavours to reach
a basket of oranges. For these and similar pranks we were at last
forced to put him away. He was sent to the Government stud, at Colombo,
where he was affectionately received and adopted by Siribeddi, and he
now takes his turn of public duty in the department of the Commissioner
of Roads.
CHAPTER III.
CONDUCT IN CAPTIVITY.
The idea prevailed in ancient times, and obtains even at the present
day, that the Indian elephant surpasses that of Africa in sagacity
and tractability, and consequently in capacity for training, so as
to render its services more available to man. There does not appear
to me to be sufficient ground for this conclusion. It originated, in
all probability, in the first impressions created by the accounts of
the elephant brought back by the Greeks after the Indian expedition
of Alexander, and above all by the descriptions of Aristotle, whose
knowledge of the animal was derived exclusively from the East. The
belief was perpetuated by later writers, especially Diodorus Siculus,
who says the elephants of India excelled those of Africa in mental
capacity not less than in magnitude and strength:—Οἳ ταῖς τε ἀλκαῖς
καὶ ταῖς τοῦ σώματος ῥωμαῖς πολὺ προέχουσι τῶν ἐν τῇ Λιβύῃ γινομένων.
(DIOD. SIC. ii. c. 16.) A long interval elapsed before the elephant
of Africa, and its capabilities, became known in Europe. The first
elephants brought to Greece by Antipater, were from India, as were
also those introduced by Pyrrhus into Italy. Taught by this example,
the Carthaginians undertook to employ African elephants in war.
Jugurtha led them against Metellus, and Juba against Cæsar; but from
inexperienced and deficient training, they proved less effective than
the elephants of India,[135] and the historians of these times ascribed
to inferiority of race that which was but the result of insufficient
education.
It must, however, be remembered that the elephants which, at a later
period, astonished the Romans by their sagacity, and whose performances
in the amphitheatre have been described by Ælian and Pliny, were
brought from Africa, and acquired their accomplishments from European
instructors;[136] a sufficient proof that under equally favourable
auspices the African species are capable of developing similar docility
and powers with those of India. It is one of the facts from which the
inferiority of the Negro race has been inferred, that they alone,
of all the nations amongst whom the elephant is found, have never
manifested ability to domesticate it; and even as regards the more
highly developed races who inhabited the valley of the Nile, it is
observable that the elephant is nowhere to be found amongst the animals
figured on the monuments of ancient Egypt, whilst the camelopard, the
lion, and even the hippopotamus are represented. And although in later
times the knowledge of the art of training appears to have existed
under the Ptolemies, and on the southern shores of the Mediterranean,
it admits of no doubt that it was communicated by the more accomplished
natives of India who had settled there.[137]
Another favourite doctrine of the earlier visitors to the East seems to
me to be equally fallacious; PYRARD, BERNIER, PHILLIPE, THEVENOT, and
other travellers in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, proclaimed
the superiority of the elephant of Ceylon, in size, strength, and
sagacity, above those of all other parts of India;[138] and TAVERNIER
in particular is supposed to have stated that if a Ceylon elephant
be introduced amongst those bred in any other place, by an instinct
of nature they do him homage by laying their trunks to the ground,
and raising them reverentially. This passage has been so repeatedly
quoted in works on Ceylon that it has passed into an aphorism, and is
always adduced as a testimony to the surpassing intelligence of the
elephants of that island; although a reference to the original shows
that Tavernier’s observations are not only fanciful in themselves, but
are restricted to the supposed excellence of the Ceylon animal _in
war_.[139] This estimate of the superiority of the elephant of Ceylon,
if it ever prevailed in India, was not current there at a very early
period; for in the _Ramayana_, which is probably the oldest epic in the
world, the stud of Dasartha, the king of Ayodhya, was supplied with
elephants from the Himalaya and the Vindhya Mountains.[140] I have
had no opportunity of testing by personal observation the justice of
the assumption; but from all that I have heard of the elephants of
the continent, and seen of those of Ceylon, I have reason to conclude
that the difference, if not imaginary, is exceptional, and must have
arisen in particular and individual instances, from more judicious or
elaborate instruction.
The earliest knowledge of the elephant in Europe and the West, was
derived from the conspicuous position assigned to it in the wars of
the East: in India, from the remotest antiquity, it formed one of the
most picturesque, if not the most effective, features in the armies of
the native princes.[141] It is more than probable that the earliest
attempts to take and train the elephant, were with a view to military
uses, and that the art was perpetuated in later times to gratify the
pride of the eastern kings, and sustain the pomp of their processions.
An impression prevails even to the present day, that the process of
training is tedious and difficult, and the reduction of a full-grown
elephant to obedience, slow and troublesome in the extreme.[142] In
both particulars, however, the contrary is the truth. The training as
it prevails in Ceylon is simple, and the conformity and obedience of
the animal are developed with singular rapidity. For the first three
days, or till they will eat freely, which they seldom do in a less
time, the newly-captured elephants are allowed to remain perfectly
quiet; and, if practicable, a tame elephant is tied near them to give
the wild ones confidence. Where many elephants are being trained at
once, it is customary to put each new captive between the stalls of
half-tamed ones, when it soon takes to its food. This stage being
attained, training commences by placing tame elephants on either side.
The “cooroowe vidahn,” or the head of the stables, stands in front
of the wild elephants holding a long stick with a sharp iron point.
Two men are then stationed one on either side, assisted by the tame
elephants, and each holding a _hendoo_ or crook[143] towards the wild
one’s trunk, whilst one or two others rub their hands over his back,
keeping up all the while a soothing and plaintive chaunt, interlarded
with endearing epithets, such as “ho! my son,” or “ho! my father,” or
“my mother,” as may be applicable to the age and sex of the captive.
The elephant is at first furious, and strikes in all directions with
his trunk; but the men in front receiving all these blows on the points
of their weapons, the extremity of the trunk becomes so sore that the
animal curls it up close, and seldom afterwards attempts to use it
offensively. The first dread of man’s power being thus established, the
process of taking him to bathe between two tame elephants is greatly
facilitated, and by lengthening the neck rope, and drawing the feet
together as close as possible, the process of laying him down in the
water is finally accomplished by the keepers pressing the sharp point
of their hendoos over the backbone.
For many days the roaring and resistance which attend the operation are
considerable, and it often requires the sagacious interference of the
tame elephants to control the refractory wild ones. It soon, however,
becomes practicable to leave the latter alone, only taking them to and
from the stall by the aid of a decoy. This step lasts, under ordinary
treatment, for about three weeks, when an elephant may be taken alone
with his legs hobbled, and a man walking backwards in front with the
point of the hendoo always presented to the elephant’s head, and a
keeper with an iron crook at each ear. On getting into the water,
the fear of being pricked on his tender back induces him to lie down
directly on the crook being only held over him _in terrorem_. Once this
point has been achieved, the further process of taming is dependent
upon the disposition of the creature.[144]
The greatest care is requisite, and daily medicines are applied to
heal the fearful wounds on the legs which even the softest ropes
occasion. This is the great difficulty of training; for the wounds
fester grievously, and months and sometimes years will elapse before an
elephant will allow his feet to be touched without indications of alarm
and anger.
The observation has been frequently made that the elephants most
vicious and troublesome to tame, and the most worthless when tamed,
are those distinguished by a thin trunk and flabby pendulous ears.
The period of tuition does not appear to be influenced by the size or
strength of the animals: some of the smallest give the greatest amount
of trouble; whereas, in the instance of the two largest that have been
taken in Ceylon within the last thirty years, both were docile in a
remarkable degree. One in particular, which was caught and trained by
Mr. Cripps, when Government agent, in the Seven Korles, fed from the
hand the first night it was secured, and in a very few days evinced
pleasure on being patted on the head.[145] There is none so obstinate,
not even a _rogue_, that may not, when kindly and patiently treated, be
eventually conciliated and reconciled.
The males are generally more unmanageable than the females, and in
both an inclination to lie down to rest is regarded as a favourable
symptom of approaching tractability, some of the most resolute having
been known to stand for months together, even during sleep. Those
which are the most obstinate and violent at first are the soonest and
most effectually subdued, and generally prove permanently docile and
submissive. But those which are sullen or morose, although they may not
provoke chastisement by their viciousness, are always slower in being
trained, and are rarely to be trusted in after-life.[146]
But whatever may be its natural gentleness and docility, the temper
of an elephant is seldom to be implicitly relied on in a state of
captivity and coercion. The most amenable are subject to occasional
fits of stubbornness; and even after years of submission, irritability
and resentment will sometimes unaccountably manifest themselves. It may
be that the restraints and severer discipline of training have not been
entirely forgotten; or that incidents which in ordinary health would
be productive of no demonstration whatever, may lead, in moments of
temporary illness, to fretfulness and anger.
The knowledge of this infirmity led to the popular belief recorded
by PHILE, that the elephant had _two hearts_, under the respective
influences of which it evinced ferocity or gentleness; subdued by the
one to habitual tractability and obedience, but occasionally roused by
the other to displays of rage and resistance.[147]
In the process of training, the presence of the tame ones can generally
be dispensed with after two months, and the captive may then be ridden
by the driver alone; and after three or four months he may, so far as
regards docility, be entrusted with labour; but it is undesirable, and
even involves the risk of its life, to work an elephant too soon; it
has frequently happened that a valuable animal has laid down and died
the first time it was tried in harness, from what the natives believe
to be “broken heart,”—certainly without any cause inferable from injury
or previous disease.[148] It is observable, that till a captured
elephant begins to relish food, and grow fat upon it, he becomes so
fretted by work, that it kills him in an incredibly short space of time.
The first employment to which an elephant is put is to tread clay
in a brick-field, or to draw a waggon in double harness with a tame
companion. But the work in which the display of sagacity renders his
labour of the highest value, is that which involves the moving of
heavy materials; and hence in dragging and piling timber, or conveying
stones[149] for the construction of retaining walls and the approaches
to bridges his services in an unopened country are of the utmost
importance. When roads are to be constructed along the face of steep
declivities, and the space is so contracted that risk is incurred
either of the working elephant falling over the precipice or of rocks
slipping down from above, not only are the measures to which he resorts
the most judicious and reasonable that could be devised, but if urged
by his keeper to adopt any other, he manifests a reluctance sufficient
to show that he has balanced in his own mind the comparative advantages
of each. An elephant appears on all occasions to comprehend the purpose
and object that he is expected to promote, and hence he voluntarily
executes a variety of details without any guidance whatever from his
keeper. This is one characteristic in which this animal manifests
a superiority over the horse; although an elephant’s strength in
proportion to its weight is not so great as that of the latter.
His minute motions when engrossed by such operations, the activity
of his eye, and the earnestness of his attitudes, can only be
comprehended by being seen. In moving timber and masses of rock his
trunk is the instrument on which he mainly relies, but those which have
tusks turn them to good account. To get a weighty stone out of a hollow
an elephant will kneel down so as to apply the pressure of his head
to move it upwards, then steadying it with one foot till he can raise
himself, he will apply a fold of his trunk to shift it to its place,
and fit it accurately in position: this done, he will step round to
view it on either side, and adjust it with due precision. He appears to
gauge his task by his eye, and to form a judgment whether the weight
be proportionate to his strength. If doubtful of his own power, he
hesitates and halts, and if urged against his will, he roars and shows
temper.
In clearing an opening through forest land, the power of the African
elephant, and the strength ascribed to him by a recent traveller, as
displayed in uprooting trees, have never been equalled or approached by
anything I have seen of the elephant in Ceylon[150] or heard of them
in India. Of course much must depend on the nature of the timber and
the moisture of the soil: thus a strong tree on the verge of a swamp
may be overthrown with greater ease than a small and low one in parched
and solid ground. I have seen no “tree” deserving the name, nothing
but jungle and brushwood, thrown down by the mere movement of an
elephant without some special exertion of force. But he is by no means
fond of gratuitously tasking his strength; and food being so abundant
that he obtains it without an effort, it is not altogether apparent,
even were he able to do so, why he should assail “the largest trees
in the forest,” and encumber his own haunts with their broken stems;
especially as there is scarcely anything which an elephant dislikes
more than venturing amongst fallen timber.
A tree of twelve inches in diameter resisted successfully the most
strenuous struggles of the largest elephant I ever saw led to it; and
when directed by their keepers to clear away jungle, the removal of
even a small tree or a healthy young coco-nut palm is a matter both
of time and exertion. Hence the services of an elephant are of much
less value in clearing a forest than in dragging and piling felled
timber. But in the latter occupation he manifests an intelligence and
dexterity which is surprising to a stranger, because the sameness of
the operation enables the animal to go on for hours disposing of log
after log, almost without a hint or direction from his attendant.
For example, two elephants employed in piling ebony and satinwood in
the yards attached to the commissariat stores at Colombo, were so
accustomed to their work, that they were able to accomplish it with
equal precision and with greater rapidity than if it had been done by
dock-labourers. When the pile attained a certain height, and they were
no longer able by their conjoint efforts to raise one of the heavy logs
of ebony to the summit, they had been taught to lean two pieces against
the heap, up the incline of which they gently rolled the remaining
logs, and placed them trimly on the top.
It has been asserted that in their occupations “elephants are to a
surprising extent the creatures of habit,”[151] that their movements
are altogether mechanical, and that “they are annoyed by any deviation
from their accustomed practice, and resent any constrained departure
from the regularity of their course.” So far as my own observation
goes, this is incorrect; and I am assured by officers of experience,
that in regard to changing his treatment, his hours or his occupation,
an elephant requires no more consideration than a horse, but exhibits
the same pliancy and facility.
At one point, however, the utility of the elephant stops short. Such is
the intelligence and earnestness he displays in work, which he seems
to conduct almost without supervision, that it has been assumed[152]
that he would continue his labour, and accomplish his given task, as
well in the absence of his keeper as during his presence. But here his
innate love of ease displays itself, and if the eye of his attendant be
withdrawn, the moment he has finished the thing immediately in hand,
he will stroll away lazily, to browse or enjoy the luxury of fanning
himself and blowing dust over his back.
The means of punishing so powerful an animal is a question of
difficulty to his attendants. Force being almost inapplicable, they try
to work on his passions and feelings, by such expedients as altering
the nature of his food or withholding it altogether for a time. On such
occasions the demeanour of the creature will sometimes evince a sense
of humiliation as well as of discontent. In some parts of India it is
customary, in dealing with offenders, to stop their allowance of sugar
canes or of jaggery; or to restrain them from eating their own share
of fodder and leaves till their companions shall have finished; and in
such cases the consciousness of degradation, betrayed by the looks and
attitudes of the culprit, is quite sufficient to identify him, and to
excite a feeling of sympathy and commiseration.
The elephant’s obedience to his keeper is the result of affection,
as well as of fear; and although his attachment becomes so strong
that an elephant in Ceylon has been known to remain out all night,
without food, rather than abandon his mahout, lying intoxicated in
the jungle, yet he manifests little difficulty in yielding the same
submission to a new driver in the event of a change of attendants. This
is opposed to the popular belief that “the elephant cherishes such
an enduring remembrance of his old mahout, that he cannot easily be
brought to obey a stranger.”[153] In the extensive establishments of
the Ceylon Government, the keepers are changed without hesitation, and
the animals, when equally kindly treated, are usually found to be as
tractable and obedient to their new driver as to the old, so soon as
they have become familiarised with his voice.
This is not, however, invariably the case; and Mr. Cripps, who had
remarkable opportunities for observing the habits of the elephant
in Ceylon, mentioned to me an instance in which one of a singularly
stubborn disposition occasioned some inconvenience after the death
of its keeper, by refusing to obey any other, till its attendants
bethought them of a child about twelve years old, in a distant village,
where the animal had been formerly picketed, and to whom it had
displayed much attachment. The child was sent for; and on its arrival
the elephant, as anticipated, manifested extreme satisfaction, and was
managed with ease, till by degrees it became reconciled to the presence
of a new superintendent.
It has been said that the mahouts die young, owing to some supposed
injury to the spinal column from the peculiar motion of the elephant;
but this remark does not apply to those in Ceylon, who are healthy,
and as long-lived as other men. If the motion of the elephant be thus
injurious, that of the camel must be still more so; yet we never hear
of early death ascribed to this cause by the Arabs.
The voice of the keeper, with a very limited vocabulary of articulate
sounds, serves almost alone to guide the elephant in his domestic
occupations.[154] Sir EVERARD HOME, from an examination of the muscular
fibres in the drum of an elephant’s ear, came to the conclusion,
that notwithstanding the distinctness and power of his perception of
sounds at a greater distance than other animals, he was insensible to
their harmonious modulation and destitute of a musical ear.[155] But
Professor HARRISON, in a paper read before the Royal Irish Academy
in 1847, has stated that on a careful examination of the head of an
elephant which he had dissected, he could “see no evidence of the
muscular structure of the _membrana tympani_ so accurately described
by Sir E. HOME.” Sir EVERARD’S deduction, I may observe, is clearly
inconsistent with the fact that the power of two elephants may be
combined by singing to them a measured chant, somewhat resembling a
sailor’s capstan song; and in labour of a particular kind, such as
hauling a stone with ropes, they will thus move conjointly a weight to
which their divided strength would be unequal.[156]
Nothing can more strongly exhibit the impulse to obedience in the
elephant, than the patience with which, at the order of his keeper,
he swallows the nauseous medicines of the native elephant-doctors;
and it is impossible to witness the fortitude with which, without
shrinking, he submits to excruciating surgical operations for the
removal of tumours and ulcers, without conceiving a vivid impression of
his gentleness and intelligence. Dr. DAVY when in Ceylon was consulted
about an elephant in the Government stud, which was suffering from a
deep, burrowing sore in the back, just over the back-bone, and this had
long resisted the treatment ordinarily employed. He recommended the
use of the knife, that vent might be given to the accumulated matter,
but no one of the attendants was competent to undertake the operation.
“Being assured,” he continues, “that the creature would behave well, I
undertook it myself. The elephant was not bound, but was made to kneel
down at his keeper’s command—and with an amputating knife, using all my
force, I made the incision required through the tough integuments. The
elephant did not flinch, but rather inclined towards me when using the
knife; and merely uttered a low, and as it were suppressed, groan. In
short, he behaved as like a human being as possible, as if conscious
(as I believe he was), that the operation was for his good, and the
pain unavoidable.”[157]
Obedience to the orders of his keepers is not, however, to be assumed
as the result of a uniform perception of the object to be attained by
compliance; and we cannot but remember the touching incident which took
place during the slaughter of the elephant at Exeter Change in 1826,
when, after receiving ineffectually upwards of 120 balls in various
parts of his body, he turned his face to his assailants on hearing the
voice of his keeper, and knelt down at the accustomed word of command,
so as to bring his forehead within view of the rifles.[158]
The working elephant is always a delicate animal, and requires
watchfulness and care. As a beast of burden it is unsatisfactory;
for although in point of mere strength there is scarcely any weight
which could be conveniently placed on it that it could not carry,
it is difficult to pack the load without causing abrasions that
afterwards ulcerate. The skin is easily chafed by harness, especially
in wet weather. During either long droughts or too much moisture, an
elephant’s feet become liable to sores, that render it non-effective
for months. Many attempts have been made to provide some protection
for the sole of the foot, but from the extreme weight and the peculiar
mode of planting the foot, they have all been unsuccessful. The eyes
are also liable to frequent inflammations, and the skill of the native
elephant-doctors, which has been renowned since the time of Ælian, is
nowhere more strikingly displayed than in the successful treatment
of such attacks.[159] In Ceylon, the murrain among the cattle is of
frequent occurrence, and carries off great numbers of animals, wild
as well as tame. In such visitations the elephants suffer severely,
not only those at liberty in the forest, but those carefully tended
in the Government stables. Out of a stud of about 40 attached to the
department of the Commission of Roads, the deaths between 1841 and
1849 were on an average _four_ in each year, and this was nearly
doubled in those years when murrain prevailed.
Of 240 elephants, employed in the public departments of the Ceylon
Government, which died in twenty-five years, from 1831 to 1856, the
length of time that each lived in captivity has only been recorded in
the instances of 138. Of these there died:—
Duration of Captivity No. Male Female
Under 1 year 72 29 43
From 1 to 2 years 14 5 9
” 2 ” 3 ” 8 5 3
” 3 ” 4 ” 8 3 5
” 4 ” 5 ” 3 2 1
” 5 ” 6 ” 2 2 ·
” 6 ” 7 ” 3 1 2
” 7 ” 8 ” 5 2 3
” 8 ” 9 ” 5 5 ·
” 9 ” 10 ” 2 2 ·
” 10 ” 11 ” 2 2 ·
” 11 ” 12 ” 3 1 2
” 12 ” 13 ” 3 · 3
” 13 ” 14 ” · · ·
” 14 ” 15 ” 3 1 2
” 15 ” 16 ” 1 1 ·
” 16 ” 17 ” 1 · 1
” 17 ” 18 ” · · ·
” 18 ” 19 ” 2 1 1
” 19 ” 20 ” 1 · 1
Total 133 62 76
Of the 72 who died in one year’s servitude, 35 expired within the first
six months of their captivity. During training, many elephants die
in the unaccountable manner already referred to, of what the natives
designate a _broken heart_.
On being first subjected to work, the elephant is liable to severe and
often fatal swellings of the jaws and abdomen.[160]
From these causes there died, between 1841 and 1849 9
Of cattle murrain 10
Sore feet 1
Colds and inflammation 6
Diarrhœa 1
Worms 1
Of diseased liver 1
Injuries from a fall 1
General debility 1
Unknown causes 3
Of the entire, twenty-three were females and eleven males.
The ages of those that died could not be accurately stated, owing to
the circumstance of their having been captured in corral. Two only were
tuskers. Towards keeping the stud in health, nothing has been found
so conducive as regularly bathing the elephants, and giving them the
opportunity to stand with their feet in water, or in moistened earth.
Elephants are said to be afflicted with tooth-ache; their tushes have
likewise been found with symptoms of internal perforation by some
parasite, and the natives assert that, in their agony, the animals have
been known to break them off short.[161] I have never heard of the
teeth themselves being so affected, and it is just possible that the
operation of shedding and the subsequent decay of the milk-tushes, may
have in some instances been accompanied by incidents that gave rise to
this story. At the same time the probabilities are in favour of its
being true. CUVIER committed himself to the statement that the tusks of
the elephant have no attachments to connect them with the pulp lodged
in the cavity at their base, from which the peculiar modification of
dentine, known as “ivory” is secreted;[162] and hence, by inference,
that they would be devoid of sensation. But independently of the fact
that ivory is permeated by tubes so fine that at their origin from
the pulpy cavity they do not exceed the 1/15000 part of an inch in
diameter, OWEN had the tusk and pulp of the great elephant which died
at the Zoological Gardens in London in 1847 longitudinally divided,
and found that, “although the pulp could be easily detached from the
inner surface of the cavity, it was not without a certain resistance;
and when the edges of the co-adapted pulp and tusk were examined by a
strong lens, the filamentary processes from the outer surface of the
former could be seen stretching, as they were drawn from the dentinal
tubes, before they broke. These filaments are so minute, he adds, that
to the naked eye the detached surface of the pulp seems to be entire;
and hence CUVIER was deceived into supposing that there was no organic
connexion between the pulp and the ivory. But if, as there seems no
reason to doubt, these delicate nervous processes traverse the tusk by
means of the numerous tubes already described, if attacked by caries
the pain occasioned to the elephant would be excruciating.
As to maintaining a stud of elephants for the purposes to which they
are now assigned in Ceylon, there may be a question on the score of
prudence and economy. In the wild and unopened parts of the country,
where rivers are to be forded, and forests are only traversed by
jungle paths, their labour is of value, in certain contingencies,
in the conveyance of stores, and in the earlier operations for the
construction of fords and rough bridges of timber. But in more
highly civilised districts, and wherever macadamised roads admit of
the employment of horses and oxen for draught, I apprehend that the
services of the elephant might, with advantage, be gradually reduced,
if not altogether dispensed with.
The love of the elephant for coolness and shade renders it at all
times more or less impatient of work in the sun, and every moment of
leisure it can snatch is employed in covering its back with dust, or
fanning itself to diminish the annoyance of the insects and heat. From
the tenderness of the skin and its liability to sores, the labour in
which the elephant can most advantageously be employed is that of
draught; but the reluctance of horses to meet or pass them renders it
difficult to work them with safety on frequented roads. Besides, were
the full load which an elephant is capable of drawing, proportionally
to its muscular strength, to be placed upon waggons of corresponding
dimension, the injury to roads from the extra weight would be such
that the wear and tear of the highways and bridges would prove too
costly to be borne. On the other hand, by restricting it to a somewhat
more manageable quantity, and by limiting the weight, as at present, to
about _one ton and a half_, it is doubtful whether an elephant performs
so much more work than could be done by a horse or by bullocks, as to
compensate for the greater cost of his feeding and attendance.
Add to this, that from accidents and other causes, from ulcerations
of the skin, and illnesses of many kinds, the elephant is so often
invalided, that the actual cost of its labour, when at work, is very
considerably enhanced. Exclusive of the salaries of higher officers
attached to the Government establishments, and other permanent
charges, the expenses of an elephant, looking only to the wages of
its attendants and the cost of its food and medicines, varies from
_three shillings to four shillings and sixpence_ per diem, according
to its size and class.[163] Taking the average at three shillings
and nine-pence, and calculating that hardly any individual works
more than four days out of seven, the charge for each day so employed
would amount to _six shillings and sixpence_. The keep per day of a
powerful dray-horse, working five days in the week, would not exceed
half-a-crown, and two such would unquestionably do more work than any
elephant under the present system. I do not know whether it be from a
comparative calculation of this kind that the strength of the elephant
establishments in Ceylon has been gradually diminished of late years,
but in the department of the Commissioner of Roads, the stud, which
formerly numbered upwards of sixty elephants, was reduced, some years
ago, to thirty-six, and is at present less than half that number.
The fallacy of the supposed reluctance of the elephant to breed in
captivity has been demonstrated by many recent authorities; but with
the exception of the birth of young elephants at Rome, as mentioned by
ÆLIAN, the only instances that I am aware of their actually producing
young under such circumstances, took place in Ceylon. Both parents had
been for several years attached to the stud of the Commissioner of
Roads, and in 1844 the female, whilst engaged in dragging a waggon,
gave birth to a still-born calf. Some years before, an elephant
that had been captured by Mr. Cripps, dropped a female calf, which
he succeeded in rearing. As usual, the little one became the pet of
the keepers; but as it increased in growth, it exhibited the utmost
violence when thwarted; striking out with its hind-feet, throwing
itself headlong on the ground, and pressing its trunk against any
opposing object.
The duration of life in the elephant has been from the remotest times a
matter of uncertainty and speculation. Aristotle says it was reputed to
live from two to three hundred years,[164] and modern zoologists have
assigned to it an age very little less; CUVIER[165] allots two hundred
and DE BLAINVILLE[166] one hundred and twenty. The only attempt which I
know of to establish a period historically or physiologically is that
of FLEURENS, who has advanced an ingenious theory on the subject in
his treatise “_De la Longévité Humaine_.” He assumes the sum total of
life in all animals to be equivalent to five times the number of years
requisite to perfect their growth and development;—and he adopts as
evidence of the period at which growth ceases, the final consolidation
of the bones with their _epiphyses_; which in the young consist of
cartilages; but in the adult become uniformly osseous and solid. So
long as the epiphyses are distinct from the bones, the growth of the
animal is proceeding, but it ceases so soon as the consolidation is
complete. In man, according to FLEURENS, this consummation takes
place at 20 years of age, in the horse at 5, in the dog at 2; so that
conformably to this theory the respective normal age for each would be
100 years for man, 25 for the horse, and 10 for a dog. As a datum for
his conclusion, FLEURENS cites the instance of one young elephant in
which, at 26 years old, the epiphyses were still distinct, whereas in
another, which died at 31, they were firm and adherent. Hence he draws
the inference that the period of completed solidification is thirty
years, and consequently that the normal age of the elephant is _one
hundred and fifty_.[167]
Amongst the Singhalese the ancient fable of the elephant attaining
to the age of two or three hundred years still prevails; but the
Europeans, and those in immediate charge of tame ones, entertain the
opinion that the duration of life for about _seventy_ years is common
both to man and the elephant; and that before the arrival of the latter
period, symptoms of debility and decay ordinarily begin to manifest
themselves. Still instances are not wanting in Ceylon of trained
decoys that have lived for more than double the reputed period in
actual servitude. One employed by Mr. Cripps in the Seven Korles was
represented by the cooroowe people to have served the king of Kandy in
the same capacity sixty years before; and amongst the papers left by
Colonel Robertson (son to the historian of “Charles V.”), who held a
command in Ceylon in 1799, shortly after the capture of the island by
the British, I have found a memorandum showing that a decoy was then
attached to the elephant establishment at Matura, which the records
proved to have served under the Dutch during the entire period of their
occupation (extending to upwards of one hundred and forty years); and
it was said to have been found in the stables by the Dutch on the
expulsion of the Portuguese in 1656.
It is perhaps from this popular belief in their almost illimitable age,
that the natives generally assert that the body of a dead elephant
is seldom or never to be discovered in the woods. And certain it is
that frequenters of the forest with whom I have conversed, whether
European or Singhalese, are consistent in their assurances that they
have never found the remains of an elephant that had died a natural
death. One chief, the Wannyah of the Trincomalie district, told a
friend of mine, that once after a severe murrain, which had swept the
province, he found the carcasses of elephants that had died of the
disease. On the other hand, a European gentleman, who for thirty-six
years without intermission has been living in the jungle, ascending
to the summits of mountains in the prosecution of the trigonometrical
survey, and penetrating valleys in tracing roads and opening means of
communication,—one, too, who has made the habits of the wild elephant a
subject of constant observation and study,—has often expressed to me
his astonishment that after seeing many thousands of living elephants
in all possible situations, he had never yet found a single skeleton of
a dead one, except of those which had fallen by the rifle.[168]
It has been suggested that the bones of the elephant may be so porous
and spongy as to disappear in consequence of an early decomposition;
but this remark would not apply to the grinders or to the tusks;
besides which, the inference is at variance with the fact, that not
only the horns and teeth, but entire skeletons of deer, are frequently
found in the districts inhabited by the elephant.
The natives, to account for this popular belief, declare that the
survivors of the herd bury such of their companions as die a natural
death.[169] It is curious that this belief was current also amongst the
Greeks of the Lower Empire; and Phile, writing early in the fourteenth
century, not only describes the younger elephants as tending the
wounded, but as burying the dead:
Ὅταν δ’ ἐπιστῇ τῆς τελευτῆς ὁ χρόνος
Κοινοῦ τέλους ἄμυναν ὁ ξένος φέρει.[170]
The Singhalese have a further superstition in relation to the close
of life in the elephant: they believe that, on feeling the approach
of dissolution, he repairs to a solitary valley, and there resigns
himself to death. A native who accompanied Mr. Cripps, when hunting,
in the forests of Anarajapoora, intimated to him that he was then in
the immediate vicinity of the spot “_to which the elephants come to
die_,” but that it was so mysteriously concealed, that although every
one believed in its existence, no one had ever succeeded in penetrating
to it. At the corral which I have described at Kornegalle, in 1847,
Dehigame, one of the Kandyan chiefs, assured me it was the universal
belief of his countrymen, that the elephants, when about to die,
resorted to a valley in Saffragam, among the mountains to the east of
Adam’s Peak, which was reached by a narrow pass with walls of rock on
either side, and that there, by the side of a lake of clear water,
they took their last repose.[171] It was not without interest that I
afterwards recognised this tradition in the story of _Sinbad of the
Sea_, who in his Seventh Voyage, after conveying the presents of Haroun
al Raschid to the king of Serendib, is wrecked on his return from
Ceylon, and sold as a slave to a master who employs him in shooting
elephants for the sake of their ivory; till one day the tree on which
he was stationed having been uprooted by one of the herd, he fell
senseless to the ground, and the great elephant approaching wound his
trunk around him and carried him away, ceasing not to proceed until
he had taken him to a place where, his terror having subsided, _he
found himself amongst the bones of elephants, and knew that this was
their burial place_.[172] It is curious to find this legend of Ceylon
in what has, not inaptly, been described as the “Arabian Odyssey” of
Sinbad; the original of which evidently embodies the romantic recitals
of the sailors returning from the navigation of the Indian Seas, in
the middle ages,[173] which were current amongst the Mussulmans, and
are reproduced in various forms throughout the tales of the _Arabian
Nights_.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER III.
As ÆLIAN’S work on _the Nature of Animals_ has never, I believe, been
republished in any English version, and the passage in relation to the
training and performance of elephants is so pertinent to the present
inquiry, I venture to subjoin a translation of the 11th chapter of his
2nd book.
“Of the cleverness of the elephant I have spoken elsewhere, and
likewise of the manner of hunting. I have mentioned these things, a few
out of the many which others have stated; but for the present I purpose
to speak of their musical feeling, their tractability, and facility in
learning what it is difficult for even a human being to acquire, much
less a beast, hitherto so wild:—such as to dance, as is done on the
stage; to walk with a measured gait; to listen to the melody of the
flute and to perceive the difference of sounds, that, being pitched low
lead to a slow movement, or high to a quick one; all this the elephant
learns and understands, and is accurate withal, and makes no mistake.
Thus has Nature formed him not only the greatest in size, but the
most gentle and the most easily taught. Now if I were going to write
about the tractability and aptitude to learn amongst those of India,
Æthiopia, and Libya, I should probably appear to be concocting a tale
and acting the braggart, or to be telling a falsehood respecting the
nature of the animal founded on a mere report, all which it behoves a
philosopher, and most of all one who is an ardent lover of truth, not
to do. But what I have seen myself, and what others have described as
having occurred at Rome, this I have chosen to relate, selecting a few
facts out of many, to show the particular nature of those creatures.
The elephant when tamed is an animal most gentle and most easily led
to do whatever he is directed. And by way of showing honour to time,
I will first narrate events of the oldest date. Cæsar Germanicus, the
nephew of Tiberius, exhibited once a public show, wherein there were
many full-grown elephants, male and female, and some of their breed
born in this country. When their limbs were beginning to become firm,
a person familiar with such animals instructed them by a strange and
surpassing method of teaching; using only gentleness and kindness, and
adding to his mild lessons the bait of pleasant and varied food. By
this means he led them by degrees to throw off all wildness, and, as it
were, to desert to a state of civilisation, conducting themselves in a
manner almost human. He taught them neither to be excited on hearing
the pipe, nor to be disturbed by the beat of drum, but to be soothed
by the sounds of the reed, and to endure unmusical noises and the
clatter of feet from persons while marching; and they were trained to
feel no fear of a mass of men, nor to be enraged at the infliction of
blows, not even when compelled to twist their limbs and to bend them
like a stage dancer, and this too although endowed with strength and
might. And there is in this a very noble addition to nature, not to
conduct themselves in a disorderly manner and disobediently towards the
instructions of man; for after the dancing-master had made them expert,
and they had learnt their lessons accurately, they did not belie the
labour of his instruction whenever a necessity and opportunity called
upon them to exhibit what they had been taught. For the whole troop
came forward from this and that side of the theatre, and divided
themselves into parties; they advanced walking with a mincing gait
and exhibiting in their whole body and persons the manners of a beau,
clothed in the flowery dresses of dancers; and on the ballet-master
giving a signal with his voice, they fell into line and went round in a
circle, and if it were requisite to deploy they did so. They ornamented
the floor of the stage by throwing flowers upon it, and this they did
in moderation and sparingly, and straightway they beat a measure with
their feet and kept time together.
“Now that Damon and Spintharus and Aristoxenus and Xenophilus and
Philoxenus and others should know music excellently well, and for their
cleverness be ranked amongst the few, is indeed a thing of wonder,
but not incredible nor contrary at all to reason. For this reason,
that a _man_ is a rational animal, and the recipient of mind and
intelligence. But that a jointless animal (ἄναρθρον) should understand
rhythm and melody, and preserve a gesture, and not deviate from a
measured movement, and fulfil the requirements of those who laid down
instructions, these are gifts of nature, I think, and a peculiarity
in every way astounding. Added to these there were things enough to
drive the spectator out of his senses; when the strewn rushes and
other materials for beds on the ground were placed on the sand of the
theatre, and they received stuffed mattresses such as belonged to rich
houses, and variegated bed-coverings, and goblets were placed there
very expensive, and bowls of gold and silver, and in them a great
quantity of water; and tables were placed there of sweet-smelling wood
and ivory very superb: and upon them flesh meats and loaves enough to
fill the stomachs of animals the most voracious. When the preparations
were completed and abundant, the banqueters came forward, six male and
an equal number of female elephants; the former had on a male dress
and the latter a female; and on a signal being given they stretched
forward their trunks in a subdued manner, and took their food in great
moderation, and not one of them appeared to be gluttonous greedy, or to
snatch at a greater portion, as did the Persian mentioned by Xenophon.
And when it was requisite to drink, a bowl was placed by the side of
each; and inhaling with their trunks they took a draught very orderly;
and then they scattered the drink about in fun; but not as in insult.
Many other acts of a similar kind, both clever and astonishing, have
persons described, relating to the peculiarities of these animals, and
I saw them writing letters on Roman tablets with their trunks, neither
looking awry nor turning aside. The hand, however, of the teacher was
placed so as to be a guide in the formation of the letters; and while
it was writing the animal kept its eye fixed down in an accomplished
and scholarlike manner.”
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Ceylon_: An Account of the Island, Physical, Historical, and
Topographical. 2 vols. 8vo. London, Longmans & Co. 1859
[2] _Sketches of the Natural History of Ceylon._ London, 1861. See also
_Ceylon, etc._ by Sir J. EMERSON TENNENT. London, 1860, vol. 1. pp. 7,
13, 85, 160, 183, &c.
[3] _Coup d’Œil général sur les Possessions Néerlandaises dans l’Inde
Archipélagique._
[4] TEMMINCK, _Coup d’Œil, etc._ t. i. c. iv. p. 328; t. ii. c. iii. p.
91.
[5] _Proceed. Zool. Soc. London_, 1849, P. 144 _note_. The original
description of TEMMINCK is as follows:
“Elephas Sumatranus, _Nob._ ressemble, par la forme générale du
crâne, à l’éléphant du continent de l’Asie; mais la partie libre des
intermaxillaires est beaucoup plus courte et plus étroite; les cavités
nasales sont beaucoup moins larges; l’espace entre les orbites des yeux
est plus étroit; la partie postérieure du crâne au contraire est plus
large que dans l’espèce du continent.
“Les mâchelières se rapprochent, par la forme de leur couronne,
plutôt de l’espèce asiatique que de celle qui est propre à l’Afrique;
c’est-à-dire que leur couronne offre la forme de rubans ondoyés et non
pas en losange; mais ces rubans sont de la largeur de ceux qu’on voit à
la couronne des dents de l’éléphant d’Afrique; ils sont conséquemment
moins nombreux que dans celui du continent de l’Asie. Les dimensions de
ces rubans, dans la direction d’avant en arrière, comparées à celles
prises dans la direction transversale et latérale, sont en raison de
3 ou 4 à 1; tandis que dans l’éléphant du continent elles sont comme
4 ou 6 à 1. La longueur totale de six de ces rubans, dans l’espèce
nouvelle de Sumatra, ainsi que dans celle d’Afrique, est d’environ 12
centimètres, tandis que cette longueur n’est que de 8 à 10 centimètres
dans l’espèce du continent de l’Asie.
“Les autres formes ostéologiques sont à peu près les mêmes dans les
trois espèces; mais il y a différence dans le nombre des os dont
le squelette se compose, ainsi que le tableau comparatif ci-joint
l’éprouve.
“L’_elephas Africanus_ a 7 vertèbres du cou, 21 vert. dorsales, 3
lombaires, 4 sacrées et 26 caudales; 21 paires de côtes, dont 6 vraies
et 15 fausses. L’_elephas Indicus_ a 7 vertèbres du cou, 19 dorsales, 3
lombaires, 5 sacrées et 34 caudales, 19 paires de côtes, dont 6 vraies
et 3 fausses. L’_elephas Sumatranus_ a 7 vertèbres du cou, 20 dorsales,
3 lombaires, 4 sacrées et 34 caudales; 20 paires de côtes, dont 6
vraies et 14 fausses.
“Ces caractères ont été constatés sur trois squelettes de l’espèce
nouvelle, un mâle et une femelle adultes et un jeune mâle. Nous n’avons
pas encore été à même de nous procurer la dépouille de cette espèce.”
[6] _The Natural History Review_, January 1863, pp. 81, 96.
[7] M. AD. PICTET has availed himself of the love of the elephant for
water, to found on it a solution of the long-contested question as
to the etymology of the word “elephant,”—a term which, whilst it has
passed into almost every dialect of the West, is scarcely to be traced
in any language of Asia. The Greek ἐλέφας, to which we are immediately
indebted for it, did not originally mean the animal, but, as early
as the time of Homer, was applied only to its tusks, and signified
_ivory_. BOCHART has sought for a Semitic origin, and seizing on the
Arabic _fil_, and prefixing the article _al_, suggests _alfil_, akin to
ἐλεφ; but rejecting this, BOCHART himself resorts to the Hebrew eleph,
an “ox”—and this conjecture derives a certain degree of countenance
from the fact that the Romans, when they obtained their first sight of
the elephant in the army of Pyrrhus, in Lucania, called it the _Luca
bos_. But the αντος is still unaccounted for: and POTT has sought to
remove the difficulty by introducing the Arabic _hindi_, Indian, thus
making _eleph hindi_, “_bos Indicus_.” The conversion of _hindi_ into
αντος is an obstacle, but here the example of “tamarind” comes to
aid; _tamar hindi_, the “Indian date,” which in mediæval Greek forms
ταμἄρεντι. A theory of BENARY, that ἐλέφας might be compounded of the
Arabic _al_, and _ibha_, a Sanskrit name for the elephant, is exposed
to still greater etymological exception. PICTET’S solution is, that in
the Sanskrit epics “the King of Elephants,” who has the distinction
of carrying the god Indra, is called _airavata_ or _airavana_, a
modification of _airavanta_ “son of the ocean,” which again comes
from _iravat_, “abounding in water.” “Nous aurions donc ainsi, comme
corrélatif du grec ἐλέφαντα, une ancienne forme, _âirâvanta_ ou
_âilâvanta_, affaiblie plus tard en _âirâvata_ ou _âirâvana_.... On
connaît la prédilection de l’éléphant pour le voisinage des fleuves, et
son amour pour l’eau, dont l’abondance est nécessaire à son bien-être.”
This Sanskrit name, PICTET supposes, may have been carried to the West
by the Phœnicians, who were the purveyors of ivory from India; and,
from the Greek, the Latins derived _elephas_, which passed into the
modern languages of Italy, Germany, and France. But it is curious that
the Spaniards acquired from the Moors their Arabic term for ivory,
_marfil_, and the Portuguese _marfim_; and that the Scandinavians,
probably from their early expeditions to the Mediterranean, adopted
_fill_ as their name for the elephant itself, and _fil-bein_ for
ivory; in Danish, _fils-ben_. (See _Journ. Asiat._ 1843, t. xliii. p.
133.) The Spaniards of South America call the palm which produces the
vegetable ivory (_Phytelephas macrocarpa_) _Palma de marfil_, and the
nut itself, _marfil vegetal_.
Since the above was written Gooneratné Modliar, the Singhalese
Interpreter to the Supreme Court at Colombo, has supplied me with
another conjecture, that the word elephant may possibly be traced to
the Singhalese name of the animal, _alia_, which means literally, “the
huge one.” _Alia_, he adds, is not a derivation from Sanskrit or Pali,
but belongs to a dialect more ancient than either.
[8] ÆLIAN, _de Nat. Anim._ lib. xvi. c. 18; COSMAS INDICOPL. p. 128.
[9] LE BRUN, who visited Ceylon A. D. 1705, says that in the district
round Colombo, where elephants are now never seen, they were then so
abundant, that 160 had been taken in a single corral. (_Voyage_, _etc._
tom. ii. ch. lxiii. p. 331.)
[10] In some parts of Bengal, where elephants were formerly troublesome
(especially near the wilds of Ramgur), the natives got rid of them by
mixing a preparation of the poisonous Nepal root called _dakra_ in
balls of grain, and other materials, of which the animal is fond. In
Cuttack, above fifty years ago, mineral poison was laid for them in the
same way, and the carcases of eighty were found which had been killed
thus. (_Asiat. Res._ xv. 183.)
[11] The number of elephants has been similarly reduced throughout
the south of India, and as in the advancing course of enclosure and
cultivation, the area within which they will be driven must become more
and more contracted, the conjecture is by no means problematical, that
before many generations shall have passed away, the species may become
extinct in Asia.
[12] The annual importation of ivory into Great Britain alone, for the
last few years, has been about _one million_ pounds; which, taking the
average weight of a tusk at sixty pounds, would require the slaughter
of 8,333 male elephants.
But of this quantity the importation from Ceylon has generally averaged
only five or six hundred weight; which, making allowance for the
lightness of the tusks, would not involve the destruction of more than
seven or eight in each year. At the same time, this does not fairly
represent the annual number of tuskers shot in Ceylon, not only because
a portion of the ivory finds its way to China and to other places, but
because the chiefs and Buddhist priests have a passion for collecting
tusks, and the finest and largest are to be found ornamenting their
temples and private dwellings. The Chinese profess that for their
exquisite carvings the ivory of Ceylon excels all other, both in
density of texture and in delicacy of tint; but in the European market,
the ivory of Africa, from its more distinct graining, and other causes,
obtains a higher price.
[13] A writer in the _Indian Sporting Review_ for October 1857 says,
“In Malabar a tuskless male elephant is rare; I have seen but two.” (P.
157.)
[14] The old fallacy is still renewed that the elephant sheds his
tusks. ÆLIAN says he drops them once in ten years (lib. xiv. c. 5); and
PLINY repeats the story, adding that, when dropped, the elephants hide
them under ground (lib. viii.), whence SHAW says, in his _Zoology_,
“they are frequently found in the woods,” and exported from Africa
(vol. i. p. 213); and Sir W. JARDINE in the _Naturalist’s Library_
(vol. ix. p. 110), says, “the tusks are shed about the twelfth or
thirteenth year.” This is erroneous: after losing the first pair, or,
as they are called, the “milk tusks,” which drop in consequence of the
absorption of their roots, when the animal is extremely young, the
second pair acquire their full size, and become the “permanent tusks,”
which are never shed.
[15] I have no means of ascertaining the dimensions of the largest
tusks supposed to have been obtained in continental India. Of those
that I have myself seen the greatest was taken from an elephant killed
by Sir Victor Brooke Bart. at the Hassanoor Hills, in Coimbatore in
1863. It measured 8 feet in length, and when placed on end two men
each 6 feet high can with ease stand side by side under the curved
extremity. It is 1 ft. 6 in. in circumference at the base and weighs
110 lbs. This remarkable tusk is now in the museum at Colebrooke
Park in the county Fermanagh. Its companion, owing to disease, is a
distorted lump of ivory; an almost shapeless mass weighing 60 lbs. The
life-long agony endured by the poor animal who bore it must have been
frightful in the extreme. Notwithstanding the inferiority in weight of
the Ceylon tusks, as compared with those of the elephant of India, it
would, I think, be precipitate to draw the inference that the size of
the former was uniformly and naturally less than that of the latter.
The truth I believe to be, that if permitted to grow to maturity, the
tusks of the one would, in all probability, equal those of the other;
but, so eager is the search for ivory in Ceylon, that a tusker, when
once observed in a herd, is followed up with such vigilant impatience,
that he is almost invariably shot before attaining his full growth.
General DE LIMA, when returning from the governorship of the Portuguese
settlements at Mozambique, told me, in 1848, that he had been requested
to procure two tusks of the largest size, and straightest possible
shape, which were to be formed into a cross to surmount the high altar
of the cathedral at Goa: he succeeded in his commission, and sent two,
one of which was 180 pounds’ and the other 170 pounds’ weight, with
the slightest possible curve. In a periodical entitled _The Friend_,
published in Ceylon, it is stated in the volume for 1837 that the
officers belonging to the ships Quorrah and Alburhak, engaged in the
Niger Expedition, were shown by a native king two tusks, each two feet
and a half in circumference at the base, eight feet long, and weighing
upwards of 200 pounds. (Vol. i. p. 225.) BRODERIP, in his _Zoological
Recreations_, p. 255, says a tusk of 350 pounds’ weight was sold at
Amsterdam, but he does not quote his authority. PETHERICK in his
_Account of Egypt, Soudan_, &c. says that in Central Africa the size
of tusks differs in different latitudes, those towards the north being
shorter, thicker, less hollow, and heavier than those of the south.
Thus a tusk from the Nouaer, Dinka, or Shilook tribes will weigh 120
lbs., while one from Bari would weigh only 70 lbs. or 80 lbs. “Indeed,”
he adds, “I have known a tusk from Nouaer to weigh 185 lbs., its length
being _seven feet two inches_, and its greatest thickness at the base
_nine_ inches.” (PETHERICK, p. 418.) Sir S. Baker, in his explorations
of the White Nile, saw monster tusks of 160 lbs.; and one in the
possession of a trader weighed 172 lbs. (_The Albert Nyanza_, vol. i.
p. 273.)
[16] _Menageries_, _etc._ published by the Society for the Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge, vol. i. p. 68: “The Elephant,” ch. iii. It will be
seen that I have quoted repeatedly from this volume, because it is the
most compendious and careful compilation with which I am acquainted of
the information previously existing regarding the elephant. The author
incorporates no speculations of his own, but has most diligently and
agreeably arranged all the facts collected by his predecessors. The
story of antipathy between the elephant and rhinoceros is probably
borrowed from ÆLIAN _de Nat._ lib. xvii. c. 44.
[17] “The _Correspondencia_ of Madrid gives the following account of
a fight between a Ceylon elephant and two bulls, which took place at
Saragossa:—‘The elephant was walking quietly about the arena when
the first bull was released and rushed at it with all his might. The
elephant received his antagonist with great coolness, and threw him
down with the utmost ease. The bull rose again and made two more
attacks, which the elephant resented by killing him with his tusks. The
conqueror did not seem in the least excited, but quietly drank some
water offered by his keeper, and ate several ears of Indian corn. A
second bull was then released, and in a few minutes suffered the same
fate as the first.’” (_Globe_, Nov. 9, 1864.) The _Times_ says the
elephant killed it “_with a thrust_ of his tusks.”
[18] _Menageries_, _etc._: “The Elephant,” ch. iii. In the Anglo-Saxon
_Epistola Alexandri ad Aristotelem_, which has been printed by COCKAYNE
in his _Narratiunculæ Anglice conscriptæ_, the belief in the alleged
antipathy of the elephant to swine is embodied in the text and is thus
rendered in the Latin version: “Pervenimus demum ad silvas Indorum
ultimas; ubi cum castra collocavissemus, ceperamus velle epulari
sub nocte hora xi; cum subito pabulatores lignatoresque exanimes
nunciabant, ut celeriter arma caperemus, venire e silvis elephantorum
immensas greges ad expugnanda castra. Imperavi ergo Thessalicis
equitibus ut ascenderent equos, _secumque tollerent sues_, quorum
grunnitus timere bestias noveram, et occurrere quam primum elephantis
jussi ... nec mora trepidantes elephanti conversi sunt. Quieta nox
fuit usque ad lucem.” (P. 58.) Another allusion to the same legendary
incident will be found in the _Lyfe of Alisaunder_, one of the most
ancient English romances, reprinted by WEBER in his _Metrical Romances
of the 13th, 14th, and 15th Centuries_.
“Forth went the kyng thennes with hy;
Of the forme-ward he herd grete cry
For hy weren assailed of olifauntz.
The kyng highed, and his sergeauntz:
Ac, so I fynde on the booke,
By Porus conseil _hogges hy took_
_And beten them so they shrightte_:
The olifauntz away hem dightte;
For hy ne have so mychel drade
Of nothing as of hogges grade.”
WEBER, vol. i. p. 237.
[19] This peculiarity was noticed by the ancients, and is recorded by
Herodotus: κάμηλον ἵππος φοβέεται, καὶ οὐκ ἀνέχεται οὔτε τὴν ἰδέην
αὐτῆς ὁρέων οὔτε τὴν ὀδμὴν ὀσφραινόμενος. (Herod. i. 80.) Camels have
long been bred by the Grand Duke of Tuscany, at his establishment
near Pisa, and even there the same instinctive dislike to them is
manifested by the horse, which it is necessary to train and accustom
to their presence in order to avoid accidents. Mr. BRODERIP mentions,
that, “when the precaution of such training has not been adopted,
the sudden and dangerous terror with which a horse is seized in
coming unexpectedly upon one of them is excessive.”—_Note-book of a
Naturalist_, ch. iv. p. 113.
[20] Major ROGERS was many years the chief civil officer of the Ceylon
Government in the district of Ouvah, where he was killed by lightning,
1845.
[21] “Quidam etiam cum equis silvestribus pugnant. Sæpe unus elephas
cum sex equis committitur; atque ipse adeo interfui cum unus elephas
duos equos cum primo impetu protinus prosternerit;—injecta enim jugulis
ipsorum longa proboscide, ad se protractos, dentibus porro comminuit ac
protrivit.” (_Angli cujusdam in Cambayam navigatio._ DE BRY, _Coll._
_etc._ vol. iii. ch. xvi. p. 31.)
[22] To account for the impatience manifested by the elephant at the
presence of a dog, it has been suggested that he is alarmed lest the
latter should attack _his feet_, a portion of his body of which the
elephant is peculiarly careful. A tame elephant has been observed to
regard with indifference a spear directed towards his head, but to
shrink timidly from the same weapon when pointed at his feet.
[23] A writer in the _Indian Sporting Review_ for October 1857 says a
male elephant was killed by two others close to his camp: “the head
was completely smashed in; there was a large hole in the side, and the
abdomen was ripped open. The latter wound was given probably after it
had fallen.” (P. 175.)
[24] In the Third Book of Maccabees, which is not printed in our
Apocrypha, but appears in the series in the Greek Septuagint,
the author, in describing the persecution of the Jews by Ptolemy
Philopater, B.C. 210, states that the king swore vehemently that he
would send them into the other world, “foully trampled to death by the
knees and feet of elephants” (πέμψειν εἰς ᾅδην ἐν γόνασι καὶ ποσὶ θηρίων
ᾑκισμένους. 3 Mac. v. 42). ÆLIAN makes the remark, that elephants on
such occasions use their _knees_ as well as their feet to crush their
victim. (_Hist. Anim._ viii. 10.)
[25] The _Hastisilpe_, a Singhalese work which treats of the “Science
of Elephants,” enumerates amongst those which it is not desirable to
possess, “the elephant which will fight with a stone or a stick in his
trunk.”
[26] Among other eccentric forms, an elephant was seen in 1844, in the
district of Bintenne, near Friar’s-Hood Mountain, one of whose tusks
was so bent that it took what sailors term a “round turn,” and then
resumed its curved direction as before. In the Museum of the College of
Surgeons, London, there is a specimen, No 2757, of a _spiral_ tusk.
[27] Since the foregoing remarks were written relative to the undefined
use of tusks to the elephant, I have seen a speculation on the same
subject in Dr. HOLLAND’S “_Constitution of the Animal Creation, as
expressed in structural appendages_;” but the conjecture of the author
leaves the problem scarcely less obscure than before. Struck with the
mere _supplemental_ presence of the tusks, the absence of all apparent
use serving to distinguish them from the _essential_ organs of the
creature, Dr. HOLLAND concludes that their production is a process
incident, but not ancillary, to other important ends, especially
connected with the vital functions of the trunk and the marvellous
motive powers inherent to it; his conjecture is, that they are “a
species of safety valve of the animal œconomy,”—and that “they owe
their development to the predominance of the senses of touch and smell,
conjointly with the muscular motions of which the exercise of these is
accompanied.” “Had there been no proboscis,” he thinks, “there would
have been no supplementary appendages,—the former creates the latter.”
(Pp. 246, 271.)
[28] See _Notes on the Natural History of Ceylon_ by Sir J. EMERSON
TENNENT, p. 60. Sir S. BAKER adds as a distinctive feature of the
African elephant that its “back is concave while that of the Indian
variety is convex.” (_The Albert Nyanza_, vol. 1. p. 274.)
[29] A native of rank informed me, that “the tail of a high-caste
elephant will sometimes touch the ground, but such are very rare.”
[30] This is confirmed by the fact that the scar of the ancle wound,
occasioned by the rope on the legs of those which have been captured by
noosing, presents precisely the same tint when thoroughly healed.
[31] _Mahawanso_, ch. xxxviii. p. 254, A.D. 433.
[32] PALLEGOIX, _Siam_, _etc._ vol. i. p. 152.
[33] _Mahawanso_, ch. xviii. p. 111. The Hindu sovereigns of Orissa,
in the middle ages, bore the style of _Gajapati_, “powerful in
elephants.” (_Asiat. Res._ xv. 253.)
[34] Herod. l. i. c. 189.
[35] Ibid. l. ii. c. 38.
[36] ARMANDI, _Hist. Milit. des Eléphants_, lib. ii. c. x. p. 380.
HORACE mentions a white elephant as having been exhibited at Rome:
“Sive elephas albus vulgi converteret ora.” (HOR. _Ep._ ii. 196.)
[37] After writing the above, I was permitted by the late Dr. HARRISON,
of Dublin, to see some accurate drawings of the brain of an elephant,
which he had the opportunity of dissecting in 1847; and on looking
to that of the base, I have found a remarkable verification of the
information which I had previously collected in Ceylon.
The small figure A is the ganglion of the fifth nerve, showing the
small motor and large sensitive portion.
[Illustration]
The _olfactory lobes_, from which the olfactory nerves proceed,
are large, whilst the _optic and muscular nerves of the orbit are
singularly small_ for so vast an animal; and one is immediately struck
by the prodigious size of the fifth nerve, which supplies the proboscis
with its exquisite sensibility, as well as by the great size of the
motor portion of the seventh, which supplies the same organ with its
power of movement and action.
[38] _Menageries_, _etc._ “The Elephant,” p. 27.
[39] Major ROGERS. An account of this singular adventure will be found
in the _Ceylon Miscellany_ for 1842, vol. i. p. 221.
[40] _Menageries_, _etc._ “The Elephant,” ch. iii. p. 68.
[41] ARISTOTLE, _De Anim._ lib. iv. c. 9, ὁμοῖον σάλπιγγι. See also
PLINY, lib. x. ch. cxiii. A manuscript of the 15th century in the
British Museum, containing the romance of “_Alexander_,” which is
probably of the fifteenth century, is interspersed with drawings
illustrative of the strange animals of the East. Amongst them are two
elephants, whose trunks are literally in the form of _trumpets with
expanded mouths_. See WRIGHT’S _Archæological Album_, p. 176, and M.S.
Reg. 15, e. vi. Brit. Mus.
[Illustration]
[42] PALLEGOIX, in his _Description du Royaume Thai ou Siam_, adverts
to a sound produced by the elephant when weary: “quand il est fatigué,
_il frappe la terre avec sa trompe_, et en tire un son semblable à
celui du cor.” (Tom. i. p. 151.)
[43] For an explanation of the term “rogue” as applied to an elephant,
see p. 47.
[44] _Natural History of Animals._ By Sir JOHN HILL, M.D. London,
1748-52, p. 565. A probable source of these false estimates is
mentioned by a writer in the _Indian Sporting Review_ for Oct. 1857.
“Elephants were measured formerly, and even now, by natives, as to
their height, by throwing a rope over them, the ends brought to the
ground on each side, and half the length taken as the true height.
Hence the origin of elephants fifteen and sixteen feet high. A rod held
at right angles to the measuring rod, and parallel to the ground, will
rarely give more than ten feet, the majority being under nine.” (P. 159)
[45] SHAW’S _Zoology_. Lond. 1806. vol. i. p. 216; ARMANDI, _Hist.
Milit. des Eléphants_, liv. i. ch. i. p. 2.
[46] WOLF’S _Life and adventures_, _etc._ p. 164. Wolf was a native
of Mecklenburg, who arrived in Ceylon about 1750, as chaplain in one
of the Dutch East Indiamen, and having been taken into the Government
employment, he served for twenty years at Jaffna, first as Secretary
to the Governor, and afterwards in an office the duties of which
he describes to be the examination and signature of the “writings
which served to commence a suit in any of the courts of justice.”
His book embodies a truthful and generally accurate account of the
northern portion of the island, with which alone he was conversant,
and his narrative gives a curious insight into the policy of the Dutch
Government, and of the condition of the natives under their dominion.
[47] DENHAM’S _Travels_, _etc._ 4to, p. 220. Fossil remains of the
Indian elephant have been discovered at Jabalpur, showing a height of
fifteen feet. (_Journ. Asiat. Soc. Beng._ vi.) Professor ANSTED in his
_Ancient World_, p. 197, says he was informed by Dr. Falconer “that out
of eleven hundred elephants from which the tallest were selected and
measured with care, on one occasion in India, there was not one whose
height equalled eleven feet.”
[48] _Vulgar Errors_, book iii. chap. 1. The earliest English writer
who promulgated this error was ALEXANDER NECKHAM, who in his treatise
_De Naturis Rerum_, composed in the 12th century, quotes Cassiodorus
and accepts his assertion that the elephant has no joints, chap.
cxliii. NECKHAM repeats the statement in his poem _De Laudibus Divinæ
Sapientiæ_, v. 47.
[49] Machlis (said to be derived from α, priv., and κλίνω, _cubo_, quod
non cubat). “Moreover in the island of Scandinavia there is a beast
called _Machlis_, that hath neither ioynt in the hough, nor pasternes
in his hind legs, and therefore he never lieth down, but sleepeth
leaning to a tree, wherefore the hunters that lie in wait for these
beasts cut downe the trees while they are asleepe, and so take them;
otherwise they should never be taken, they are so swift of foot that it
is wonderful.” (PLINY, _Natur. Hist._ Transl. Philemon Holland, book
viii. ch. xv. p. 200.)
[50] “Sunt item quæ appellantur _Alces_. Harum est consimilis capreis
figura, et varietas pellium; sed magnitudine paulo antecedunt,
mutilæque sunt cornibus, _et crura sine nodis articulisque habent_;
neque quietis causa procumbunt; neque, si quo afflictæ casu
considerunt, erigere sese aut sublevare possunt. His sunt arbores
pro cubilibus; ad eas sese applicant, atque ita, paulum modo
reclinatæ, quietem capiunt, quarum ex vestigiis cum est animadversum
a venatoribus, quo se recipere consueverint, omnes eo loco, aut a
radicibus subruunt aut accidunt arbores tantum, ut summa species earum
stantium relinquatur. Huc cum se consuetudine reclinaverint, infirmas
arbores pondere affligunt, atque una ipsæ concidunt.” (CÆSAR, _De Bello
Gall._ lib. vi. ch. xxvii.)
The same fiction was extended by the early Arabian travellers to the
rhinoceros, and in the MS. of the voyages of the “_Two Mahometans_,” it
is stated that the rhinoceros of Sumatra “n’a point d’articulation au
genou ni à la main.” (_Relations des Voyages_, _etc._ Paris, 1845, vol.
i. p. 29.)
[51] EVELYN, who was a contemporary and friend of Sir Thomas Browne,
observes in his diary, August 13, 1641, on arriving at Rotterdam, “here
I first saw an elephant: it was a beast of a monstrous size, yet as
flexible and nimble in the joints, contrary to the vulgar tradition, as
could be imagined from so prodigious a bulk and strange fabric.” (Vol.
i. p. 20.)
[52] In his _Natural History_, ARISTOTLE speaks of Ctesias as οὐκ ὣν
ἀξιόπιστος. (L. viii. c. 27.)
[53] “When an animal moves progressively an hypothenuse is produced,
which is equal in power to the magnitude that is quiescent, and to
that which is intermediate. But since the members are equal, it is
necessary that the member which is quiescent should be inflected either
in the knee or in the incurvation, _if the animal that walks is without
knees_. It is possible, however, for the leg to be moved, when not
inflected, in the same manner as infants creep; and there is an ancient
report of this kind about elephants, which is not true, for such
animals as these, _are moved in consequence of an inflection taking
place either in their shoulders or hips_.” (ARISTOTLE, _De Ingressu
Anim._ ch. ix. Taylor’s Transl.)
[54] ARISTOTLE, _De Animal_, lib. ii. ch. i. It is curious that Taylor,
in his translation of this passage, was so strongly imbued with the
“grey-headed errour,” that in order to elucidate the somewhat obscure
meaning of Aristotle, he has actually interpolated the text with the
exploded fallacy of Ctesias, and after the word reclining to sleep, has
inserted the words “_leaning against some wall or tree_,” which are not
to be found in the original.
[55] Ζῷον δὲ ἄναρθρον συνιέναι καὶ ῥυθμοῦ καὶ μέλους, καὶ φυλάττειν
σχῆμα φύσεως δῶρα ταῦτα ἅμα καὶ ἰδιότης καθ’ ἕκαστον ἐκπληκτική.
(ÆLIAN, _De Nat. Anim._ lib. ii. cap. xi.)
[56] EGINHARD, _Vita Karoli_, c. xvi. and _Annales Francorum_, A. D.
810.
[57] “Sed idem Julius, unum de elephantibus mentiens, falso loquitur;
dicens elephantem nunquam jacere; dum ille sicut bos certissime jacet,
ut populi communiter regni Francorum elephantem, in tempore Imperatoris
Karoli, viderunt. Sed, forsitan, ideo hoc de elephante ficte æstimando
scriptum est, eo quod genua et suffragines sui nisi quando jacet, non
palam apparent.” (DICUILUS, _De Mensura Orbis Terræ_, c. vii.)
[58] _Cotton MSS._ NERO. D. i. fol. 168, b.
[59] _Arundel MSS._ No. 292, fol. 4, &c. It has been printed in the
_Reliquiæ Antiquæ_, vol. i. p. 208, by Mr. WRIGHT, to whom I am
indebted for the following rendering of the passage referred to:—
in water ge sal stonden
in water to mid side
ðat wanne hire harde tide
ðat ge ne falle niðer nogt
ðat it most in hire ðogt
for he ne haven no lið
ðat he mugen risen wið, etc.
“They will stand in the water,
in water up to the middle of the side,
that when it comes to them hard,
they may not fall down:
that is most in their thought,
for they have no joint
to enable them to rise again.
How he resteth him this animal,
when he walketh abroad,
hearken how it is here told.
For he is all unwieldy,
forsooth he seeks out a tree,
that is strong and steadfast,
and leans confidently against it,
when he is weary of walking.
The hunter has observed this,
who seeks to ensnare him,
where his usual dwelling is,
to do his will;
saws this tree and props it
in the manner that he best may,
covers it well that he (the elephant) may not be on his guard.
Then he makes thereby a seat,
himself sits alone and watches
whether his trap takes effect.
Then cometh this unwieldy elephant,
and leans him on his side,
rests against the tree in the shadow,
and so both fall together,
if nobody be by when he falls,
he roars ruefully and calls for help,
roars ruefully in his manner,
hopes he shall through help rise.
Then cometh there one (elephant) in haste,
hopes he shall cause him to stand up;
labours and tries all his might,
but he cannot succeed a bit.
He knows then no other remedy,
but roars with his brother,
many and large (elephants) come there in search,
thinking to make him get up,
but for the help of them all
he may not get up.
Then they all roar one roar,
like the blast of a horn or the sound of bell;
for their great roaring
a young one cometh running,
stoops immediately to him,
puts his snout under him,
and asks the help of them all;
this elephant they raise on his legs:
and thus fails this hunter’s trick,
in the manner that I have told you.”
[60] One of the most venerable authorities by whom the fallacy was
transmitted to modern times was PHILIP DE THAUN, who wrote, about the
year 1121, A. D. his _Livre des Créatures_, dedicated to Adelaide of
Louvaine, Queen of Henry I. of England. In the copy of it printed by
the Historical Society of Science in 1841, and edited by Mr. WRIGHT,
the following passage occurs:—
“Et Ysidres nus dit ki le elefant descrit,
* * * * *
Es jambes par nature nen ad que une jointure,
Il ne pot pas gesir quant il se vol dormir,
Ke si cuchet estait par sei nen leverait;
Pur çeo li stot apuier, el lui del cucher,
U à arbre u à mur, idunc dort aseur.
E le gent de la terre, ki li volent con quere,
Li mur enfunderunt, u le arbre enciserunt;
Quant li elefant vendrat, ki s’i apuierat,
La arbre u le mur carrat, e il tribucherat;
Issi faiterement le parnent cele gent.”
P. 100.
[61] _Troilus and Cressida_, act ii. sc. 3. A. D. 1609.
[62] _Progress of the Soul_, A. D. 1633.
[63] Sir T. BROWNE, _Vulgar Errors_, A. D. 1646.
[64] RANDAL HOME’S _Academy of Armory_, A. D. 1671. HOME only
perpetuated the error of GUILLIM, who wrote his _Display of Heraldry_
in A. D. 1610; wherein he explains that the elephant is “so proud of
his strength that he never bows himself to any (_neither indeed can
he_), and when he is once down he cannot rise up again.” (Sec. iii. ch.
xii. p. 147.)
[65] THOMSON’S _Seasons_, A. D. 1728.
[66] So little is the elephant inclined to lie down in captivity, and
even after hard labour, that the keepers are generally disposed to
suspect illness when he betakes himself to this posture. PHILE, in
his poem _De Animalium Proprietate_, attributes the propensity of the
elephant to sleep on his legs, to the difficulty he experiences in
rising to his feet:
Ὀρθοστάδην δὲ καὶ καθεύδει παννύχως
Ὅτ’ οὺκ ἀναστῆσαι μὲν εὐχερῶς πέλει.
But this is a misapprehension.
[67] _Menageries_, _etc._ “The Elephant,” ch. i.
Sir CHARLES BELL, in his essay on _The Hand and its Mechanism_,
which forms one of the “Bridgewater Treatises,” has exhibited the
reasons deducible from organisation, which show the incapacity of the
elephant to _spring_ or _leap_ like the horse and other animals whose
structure is designed to facilitate agility and speed. In them the
various bones of the shoulder and fore limbs, especially the clavicle
and humerus, are set at such an angle, that the shock in descending
is modified, and the joints and sockets protected from the injury
occasioned by concussion. But in the elephant, where the weight of the
body is immense, the bones of the leg, in order to present solidity
and strength to sustain it, are built in one firm and perpendicular
column; instead of being placed somewhat obliquely at their points of
contact. Thus whilst the force of the weight in descending is broken
and distributed by this arrangement in the case of the horse; it would
be so concentrated in the elephant as to endanger every joint from the
toe to the shoulder.
[Illustration]
[68] _Menageries_, _etc._ “The Elephant,” ch. ii.
[69] Dr. HOOKER, in describing the ascent of the Himalayas, says, the
natives in making their paths despise all zigzags, and run in straight
lines up the steepest hill faces; whilst “the elephant’s path is an
excellent specimen of engineering—the opposite of the native track,—for
it winds judiciously.” (_Himalayan Journal_, vol. i. ch. iv.)
[70] _Ceylon Observer_, March 1865.
[71] Since the above passage was written, I have seen in the _Journal
of the Asiatic Society of Bengal_, vol. xiii. pt. ii. p. 916, a paper
upon this subject, illustrated by the subjoined diagram.
The writer says, “an elephant descending a bank of too acute an angle
to admit of his walking down it direct, (which, were he to attempt, his
huge body, soon disarranging the centre of gravity, would certainly
topple over,) proceeds thus. His first manœuvre is to kneel down close
to the edge of the declivity, placing his chest to the ground: one
fore leg is then cautiously passed a short way down the slope; and if
there is no natural protection to afford a firm footing, he speedily
forms one by stamping into the soil if moist, or kicking out a footing
if dry. This point gained, the other fore leg is brought down in the
same way; and performs the same work, a little in advance of the first;
which is thus at liberty to move lower still. Then, first one and then
the second of the hind legs is carefully drawn over the side, and the
hind feet in turn occupy the resting-places previously used and left
by the fore ones. The course, however, in such precipitous ground is
not straight from top to bottom, but slopes along the face of the bank,
descending till the animal gains the level below. This an elephant has
done, at an angle of 45 degrees, carrying a _howdah_, its occupant,
his attendant, and sporting apparatus; and in a much less time than it
takes to describe the operation.” I have observed that an elephant in
descending a declivity uses his knees, on the side next the bank; and
his feet on the lower side only.
[Illustration]
[72] A correspondent of Buffon, M. MARCELLUS BLES, Seigneur de
Moergestal, who resided eleven years in Ceylon in the time of the
Dutch, says in one of his communications, that in herds of forty or
fifty, enclosed in a single corral, there were frequently very young
calves; and that “on ne pouvoit pas reconnoître quelles étoient les
mères de chacun de ces petits éléphans, car tous ces jeunes animaux
paroissent faire manse commune; ils têtent indistinctement celles
des femelles de toute la troupe qui ont du lait, soit qu’elles aient
elles-mêmes un petit en propre, soit qu’elles n’en aient point.”
(BUFFON, _Suppl. à l’Hist. des Anim._ vol. vi. p. 25.)
[73] WHITE, in his _Natural History of Selbourne_, philosophising on
the fact which had fallen under his own notice of this indiscriminate
suckling of the young of one animal by the parent of another, is
disposed to ascribe it to a selfish feeling; the pleasure and relief
of having its distended teats drawn by this intervention. He notices
the circumstance of a leveret having been thus nursed by a cat, whose
kittens had been recently drowned; and observes that “this strange
affection was probably occasioned by that desiderium, those tender
maternal feelings, which the loss of her kittens had awakened in her
breast; and by the complacency and ease she derived to herself from
procuring her teats to be drawn, which were too much distended with
milk; till from habit she became as much delighted with this foundling
as if it had been her real offspring. This incident is no bad solution
of that strange circumstance which grave historians, as well as the
poets, assert of exposed children being sometimes nurtured by female
wild beasts that probably had lost their young. For it is not one whit
more marvellous that Romulus and Remus in their infant state should be
nursed by a she wolf than that a poor little suckling leveret should
be fostered and cherished by a bloody Grimalkin.” (WHITE’S _Selborne_,
lett. xx.) General SLEAMAN in his narrative of a journey through Oude
gives some remarkable narratives of children suckled by wolves and
found associating with their cubs.
[74] The term “rogue” is scarcely sufficiently accounted for by
supposing it to be the English equivalent for the Singhalese word
_Hora_. In that very curious book, the _Life and Adventures of_ JOHN
CHRISTOPHER WOLF, _late principal Secretary at Jaffnapatam in Ceylon_,
see _ante_, note, p. 31, the author says, when a male elephant in a
quarrel about the females “is beat out of the field and obliged to go
without a consort, he becomes furious and mad, killing every living
creature, be it man or beast; and in this state is called _ronkedor_,
an object of greater terror to a traveller than a hundred wild ones.”
(P. 142.) In another passage, p. 164, he is called _runkedor_, and
I have seen it spelt elsewhere _ronquedue_. WOLF does not give
“_ronkedor_” as a term peculiar to that section of the island; but both
there and elsewhere, it is obsolete at the present day, unless it be
open to conjecture that the modern term “rogue” is a modification of
_ronquedue_.
[75] BUCHANAN, in his _Survey of Bhagulpore_, p. 503, says that
solitary males of the wild buffalo, “when driven from the herd by
stronger competitors for female society, are reckoned very dangerous to
meet with; for they are apt to wreak their vengeance on whatever they
meet, and are said to kill annually three or four people.” LIVINGSTONE
relates the same of the solitary hippopotamus, which becomes soured in
temper, and wantonly attacks the passing canoes. (_Travels in South
Africa_, p. 231.)
[76] Letter from Major SKINNER.
[77] This peculiarity was known in the middle ages, and PHILE, writing
in the fourteenth century, says, that such is his _preference_ for
muddy water that the elephant _stirs it_ before he drinks.
Ὕδωρ δὲ πίνει συγχυθὲν πρὶν ἂν πίνοι,
Τὸ γὰρ διειδὲς ἀκριβῶς διαπτύει.
PHILE _de Eleph._ i. 144.
[78] A tame elephant, when taken by his keepers to be bathed, and
to have his skin washed and rubbed, lies down on his side, pressing
his head to the bottom under water, with only the top of his trunk
protruded, to breathe.
[79] BRODERIP’S _Zoological Recreations_, p. 259.
[80] For observing the osteology of the elephant, materials are
of course abundant in the indestructible remains of the animal:
but the study of the intestines, and the dissection of the softer
parts by comparative anatomists in Europe, have been up to the
present time beset by difficulties. These arise not alone from the
rarity of subjects, but even in cases where elephants have died in
these countries, decomposition interposes, and before the thorough
examination of so vast a body can be satisfactorily completed, the
great mass falls into putrefaction.
The principal English authorities are _An Anatomical Account of the
Elephant accidentally burnt in Dublin_, by A. MOLYNEUX, A.D. 1696;
which is probably a reprint of a letter on the same subject in the
library of Trinity College, Dublin, addressed by A. Moulin to Sir
William Petty, Lond. 1682. There are also some papers communicated
to Sir Hans Sloane, and afterwards published in the _Philosophical
Transactions_ of the year 1710, by Dr. P. BLAIR, who had an opportunity
of dissecting an elephant which died at Dundee in 1708. The latter
writer observes that, “notwithstanding the vast interest attaching
to the elephant in all ages, yet has its body been hitherto very
little subjected to anatomical inquiries;” and he laments that the
rapid decomposition of the carcase, and other causes, had interposed
obstacles to the scrutiny of the subject he was so fortunate as to find
access to.
In 1723 Dr. WM. STUCKLEY published _Some Anatomical Observations made
upon the Dissection of an Elephant_; but each of the above essays is
necessarily unsatisfactory, and little has since been done to supply
their defects. One of the latest and most valuable contributions to the
subject, is a paper read before the Royal Irish Academy, on the 18th of
Feb. 1847, by Professor HARRISON, who had the opportunity of dissecting
an Indian elephant which died of acute fever; but the examination, so
far as he has made it public, extends only to the cranium, the brain,
and the proboscis, the larynx, trachea, and œsophagus. An essential
service would be rendered to science if some sportsman in Ceylon, or
some of the officers connected with the elephant establishment there,
would take the trouble to forward the carcase of a young one to England
in a state fit for dissection.
_Postscriptum._—I am happy to say that a young elephant, carefully
preserved in spirits, has recently been obtained in Ceylon, and
forwarded to Prof. Owen, of the British Museum, by the joint exertions
of M. DIARD and Major SKINNER. An opportunity has thus been afforded of
which science will reap the advantage, of devoting a patient attention
to the internal structure of this most interesting animal.
[81] ARISTOTLE noticed a peculiarity in the intestinal configuration of
the elephant such as gave it the appearance of having four stomachs.
_De Anim. Hist._ l; ii. c. 17.
[82] The passage as quoted by BUFFON from the _Mémoires_ is as
follows:—“L’estomac avoit peu de diamètre; il en avoit moins que le
colon, car son diamètre n’étoit que de quatorze pouces dans la partie
la plus large; il avoit trois pieds et demi de longueur: l’orifice
supérieur étoit à peu près aussi éloigné du pylore que du fond du
grand cul-de-sac qui se terminoit en une pointe composée de tuniques
beaucoup plus épaisses que celles du reste de l’estomac; il y avoit au
fond du grand cul-de-sac plusieurs feuillets épais d’une ligne, larges
d’un pouce et demi, et disposés irrégulièrement; le reste des parois
intérieures étoit percé de plusieurs petits trous et par de plus grands
qui correspondoient à des grains glanduleux.” (BUFFON, _Hist. Nat._
vol. xi. p. 109.)
[83] “L’extrémité voisine du cardiaque se termine par une poche
très-considérable et doublée à l’intérieure de quatorze valvules
orbiculaires qui semblent en faire une espèce de division
particulière.” (CAMPER, _Description anatomique d’un Eléphant mâle_, p.
37, tabl. IX.)
[84] “The elephant has another peculiarity in the internal structure
of the stomach. It is longer and narrower than that of most animals.
The cuticular membrane of the œsophagus terminates at the orifice of
the stomach. At the cardiac end, which is very narrow and pointed at
the extremity, the lining is thick and glandular, and is thrown into
transverse folds, of which five are broad and nine narrow. That nearest
the orifice of the œsophagus is the broadest, and appears to act
occasionally as a valve, so that the part beyond may be considered as
an appendage similar to that of the peccary and the hog. The membrane
of the cardiac portion is uniformly smooth; that of the pyloric is
thicker and more vascular.” (_Lectures on Comparative Anatomy_, by
Sir EVERARD HOME, Bart. 4to. Lond. vol. i. p. 155. The figure of the
elephant’s stomach is given in his _Lectures_, vol. ii. plate xviii.)
[85] A similar arrangement, with some modifications, has more recently
been found in the llama of the Andes, which, like the camel, is used
as a beast of burden in the Cordilleras of Chili and Peru; but both
these and the camel are _ruminants_, whilst the elephant belongs to the
Pachydermata.
[86] _Proceed. Roy. Irish. Acad._ vol. iv. p. 133.
[87] _Ayeen Akbery_, transl. by GLADWIN, vol. i. pt. i. p. 147.
[88] One of the Indian names for the elephant is _duipa_, which
signifies “to drink twice.” (AMANDI, p. 513.) Can this have reference
to the peculiarity of the stomach for retaining a supply of water? Or
has it merely reference to the habit of the animal to fill his trunk
before transferring the water to his mouth?
[89] The buffalo and the humped cattle of India, which are used for
draught and burden, have, I believe, a development somewhat more
conspicuous than in the rest of their congeners, of the organisation of
the reticulum which enables the ruminants generally to endure thirst,
and abstain from water, but nothing in them approaches in singularity
of character to the distinct cavities in the stomach exhibited by the
three animals above alluded to.
[90] For an explanation of this term, see Sir J. EMERSON TENNENT’S
_Ceylon_, _etc._ vol. i. p. 498.
[91] “One of the strongest instincts which the elephant possesses, is
this which impels him to experiment upon the solidity of every surface
which he is required to cross.”—_Menageries_, _etc._ “The Elephant,”
vol. i. pp. 17, 19, 66.
[92] WOLF’S _Life and Adventures_, p. 151.
[93] _Private Letter_ from Dr. DAVY, author of _An Account of the
Interior of Ceylon_.
[94] The _Colombo Observer_ for March 1858, contains an offer of a
reward of twenty-five guineas for the destruction of an elephant which
infested the Rajawallé coffee plantation, in the vicinity of Kandy.
Its object seemed to be less the search for food, than the satisfying
of its curiosity and the gratification of its passion for mischief.
Mr. TYTLER, the proprietor, states that it frequented the jungle near
the estate, whence it was its custom to sally forth at night for the
pleasure of pulling down buildings and trees, “and it seemed to have
taken a spite at the pipes of the waterworks, the pillars of which
it several times broke down—its latest fancy being to wrench off the
taps.” This elephant has since been shot.
[95] CUVIER, _Règne Animal_. “Les Mammifères,” p. 280.
[96] _Table Talk_, p. 63.
[97] The elephant is believed by the Singhalese to express his
uneasiness by his voice, on the approach of _rain_; and the Tamils have
a proverb,—“_Listen to the elephant, rain is coming._”
[98] Yokes borne on the shoulder with a package at each end.
[99] The tutelary spirit of the sacred mountain, Adam’s Peak.
[100] The Singhalese hold the belief, that twigs taken from one bush
and placed on another growing close to a pathway, ensure protection
to travellers from the attacks of wild animals, and especially of
elephants. Can it be that the latter avoid the path, on discovering
this evidence of the proximity of recent passengers?
[101] A rogue elephant.
[102] Woman’s robe.
[103] The figured cloth worn by men.
[104] To persons like myself, who are not addicted to what is called
“sport,” the statement of these wholesale slaughters is calculated to
excite surprise and curiosity as to the nature of a passion that impels
men to self-exposure and privation, in a pursuit which presents nothing
but the monotonous recurrence of scenes of blood and suffering. Sir
S. BAKER, who has recently published, under the title of “_The Rifle
and the Hound in Ceylon_,” an account of his exploits in the forest,
gives us the assurance that “_all real sportsmen are tender-hearted
men, who shun cruelty to an animal, and are easily moved by a tale of
distress_,” and that although man is naturally bloodthirsty, and a
beast of prey by instinct, yet that the true sportsman is distinguished
from the rest of the human race by his “_love of nature and of noble
scenery_.” In support of this pretension to a gentler nature than the
rest of mankind, the author proceeds to attest his own abhorrence of
cruelty by narrating the sufferings of an old hound, which, although
“toothless,” he cheered on to assail a boar at bay, but the poor dog
recoiled “covered with blood, cut nearly in half, with a wound fourteen
inches in length, from the lower part of the belly, passing up the
flank, completely severing the muscles of the hind leg, and extending
up the spine; his hind leg having the appearance of being nearly off.”
In this state, forgetful of the character he had so lately given of
the true sportsman, as a lover of nature and a hater of cruelty, he
encouraged “the poor old dog,” as he calls him, to resume the fight
with the boar, which lasted for an hour, when he managed to call the
dogs off; and, perfectly exhausted, the mangled hound crawled out of
the jungle with several additional wounds, including a severe gash
in his throat. “He fell from exhaustion, and we made a litter with
two poles and a horsecloth to carry him home.” (P. 314.) If such were
the habitual enjoyments of this class of sportsmen, their motiveless
massacres would admit of no manly justification. In comparison with
them one is disposed to regard almost with favour the exploits of a
hunter like Major ROGERS, who is said to have applied the value of
the ivory obtained from his encounters towards the purchase of his
successive regimental commissions, and had, therefore, an object,
however disproportionate, in his slaughter of 1,400 elephants.
One gentleman in Ceylon, not less distinguished for his genuine
kindness of heart, than for his marvellous success in shooting
elephants, avowed to me that the eagerness with which he found himself
impelled to pursue them had often excited surprise in his own mind;
and although he had never read the theory of Lord Kames, or the
speculations of Vicesimus Knox, he had come to the conclusion that the
passion thus excited within him was a remnant of the hunter’s instinct,
with which man was originally endowed to enable him, by the chase, to
support existence in a state of nature, and which, though rendered
dormant by civilisation, had not been utterly eradicated.
This theory is at least more consistent and intelligible than the “love
of nature and scenery,” sentimentally propounded by the author quoted
above.
[105] The vulnerability of the elephant in this region of the head was
known to the ancients, and PLINY, describing a combat of elephants in
the amphitheatre at Rome, says, that one was slain by a single blow,
“pilum sub oculo adactum, in vitalia capitis venerat.” (Lib. viii. c.
7.) Notwithstanding the comparative facility of access to the brain
afforded at this spot, an ordinary leaden bullet is not certain to
penetrate, and frequently becomes flattened. The hunters, to counteract
this, are accustomed to harden the ball, by the introduction of a small
portion of type-metal along with the lead.
[106] “The head is so peculiarly formed that the ball either passes
over the brain, or lodges in the immensely solid bones and cartilages
that contain the roots of the tusks.... The brain of the African
species, he says, rests upon a plate of bone exactly above the roots of
the upper grinders and is thus wonderfully protected from a front shot,
as it lies so low that the ball passes over it when the elephant raises
his head, which he invariably does when in anger, until close to the
object of his attack.... I had always held the opinion that the African
elephant might be killed with the same facility as that of Ceylon _by a
forehead shot_; but I have found by much experience that I was entirely
wrong and that although by chance an African elephant may be killed by
the front shot, it is the exception to the rule.” (_The Albert Nyanza_,
vol. i. p. 277.)
[107] In Mr. GORDON CUMMING’S account of a _Hunter’s Life in South
Africa_, there is a narrative of his pursuit of a wounded elephant
which he had lamed by lodging a ball in its shoulder-blade. It limped
slowly towards a tree, against which it leaned itself in helpless
agony, whilst its pursuer seated himself in front of it, in safety, to
_boil his coffee_, and observe its sufferings. The story is continued
as follows:—“Having admired him for a considerable time, _I resolved
to make experiments on vulnerable points_; and approaching very near
I fired several bullets at different parts of his enormous skull. He
only acknowledged the shots by a salaam-like movement of his trunk,
with the point of which he gently touched the wounds with a striking
and peculiar action. Surprised and shocked at finding that I was only
prolonging the sufferings of the noble beast, which bore its trials
with such dignified composure, I resolved to finish the proceeding
with all possible despatch, and accordingly opened fire upon him from
the left side, aiming at the shoulder. I first fired _six_ shots with
the two-grooved rifle, which must have eventually proved mortal. After
which I fired _six_ shots at the same part with the Dutch six-pounder.
_Large tears now trickled from his eyes, which he slowly shut and
opened, his colossal frame shivered convulsively, and falling on his
side, he expired._” (Vol. ii. p. 10.)
In another place, after detailing the manner in which he assailed
a poor animal, he says: “I was loading and firing as fast as could
be, sometimes at the head, sometimes behind the shoulder, until my
elephant’s fore-quarter was a mass of gore; notwithstanding which he
continued to hold on, leaving the grass and branches of the forest
scarlet in his wake.... Having fired _thirty-five rounds_ with my
two-grooved rifle, I opened upon him with the Dutch six-pounder, and
when forty bullets had perforated his hide, he began for the first
time to evince signs of a dilapidated constitution.” The disgusting
description is closed thus: “Throughout the charge he repeatedly cooled
his person with large quantities of water, which he ejected from his
trunk over his sides and back, and just as the pangs of death came over
him, he stood trembling violently beside a thorn tree, and kept pouring
water into his bloody mouth until he died, when he pitched heavily
forward with the whole weight of his fore-quarters resting on the
points of his tusks. The strain was fair, and the tusks did not yield;
but the portion of his head in which the tusks were embedded, extending
a long way above the eye, yielded and burst with a muffled crash.”
(_Ib._ vol. ii. pp. 4, 5.)
[108] _The Rifle and the Hound in Ceylon_; by Sir S. BAKER, pp. 8, 9.
“Next to a rogue in ferocity, and even more persevering in the pursuit
of her victim, is a female elephant.” But he appends the significant
qualification, “_when her young one has been killed_.” (_Ibid._ p. 13.)
[109] _The Rifle and the Hound_, p. 13.
[110] _Menageries_ _etc._ “The Elephant,” ch. i. p. 21.
[111] _System of Phrenology_, by GEO. COMBE, vol. i. p. 256.
[112] Private letter from Capt. PHILIP PAYNE GALLWEY.
[113] Some years ago an elephant which had been wounded by a native,
near Hambangtotte, pursued the man into the town, followed him along
the street, trampled him to death in the bazaar before a crowd of
terrified spectators, and succeeded in making good its retreat to the
jungle.
[114] SHAW, in his _Zoology_, asserts that an elephant can run as
swiftly as a horse can gallop. London, 1800-6, vol. i. p. 216.
[115] The device of taking them by means of pitfalls still prevails
in India; but in addition to the difficulty of providing against that
caution with which the elephant is supposed to reconnoitre suspicious
ground, it has the further disadvantage of exposing him to injury
from bruises and dislocations in his fall. Still it was the mode of
capture employed by the Singhalese, and so late as 1750 WOLF relates
that the native chiefs of the Wanny, when capturing elephants for
the Dutch, made “pits some fathoms deep in those places whither the
elephant is wont to go in search of food, across which were laid poles
covered with branches and baited with the food of which he is fondest,
making towards which he finds himself taken unawares. Thereafter being
subdued by fright and exhaustion, he was assisted to raise himself to
the surface by means of hurdles and earth, which he placed underfoot
as they were thrown down to him, till he was enabled to step out on
solid ground, when the noosers and decoys were in readiness to tie him
up to the nearest tree.” (See WOLF’S _Life and Adventures_, p. 152.)
Shakspeare appears to have been acquainted with the plan of taking
elephants in pitfalls: Decius, encouraging the conspirators, reminds
them of Cæsar’s taste for anecdotes of animals, by which he would
undertake to lure him to his fate:
“For he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betrayed with trees,
And bears with glasses: _elephants with holes_.”
JULIUS CÆSAR, Act ii. Scene I.
[116] KNOX’S _Historical Relation of Ceylon_, A. D. 1681, part i. ch.
vi. p. 21.
[117] Previous to the death of the female elephant in the Zoological
Gardens, in the Regent’s Park, in 1851, Mr. MITCHELL, the Secretary,
caused measurements to be accurately made, and found the statement
of the Singhalese hunters to be strictly correct, the height at the
shoulders being precisely twice the circumference of the fore foot. In
an African elephant killed by Sir S. Baker, this proportion did not
hold good, as the circumference of the fore foot was 4 feet 11-1/4
inches, and the height at the shoulder 10 feet 6-1/2 inches. (BAKER,
_The Albert Nyanza_, vol. ii. p. 10.)
[118] Major SKINNER, the Chief Officer at the head of the Commission of
Roads, in Ceylon, in writing to me, mentions an anecdote illustrative
of the daring of the Panickeas. “I once saw,” he says, “a very
beautiful example of the confidence with which these fellows, from
their knowledge of the elephants, meet their worst defiance. It was
in Neuera-Kalawa; I was bivouacking on the bank of a river, and had
been kept out so late that I did not get to my tent until between 9
and 10 at night. On our return towards it we passed several single
elephants making their way to the nearest water, but at length we came
upon a large herd that had taken possession of the only road by which
we could pass, and which no intimidation would induce to move off. I
had some Panickeas with me; they knew the herd, and counselled extreme
caution. After trying every device we could think of for a length
of time, a little old Moorman of the party came to me and requested
we should all retire to a distance. He then took a couple of chules
(flambeaux of dried wood, or coco-nut leaves), one in each hand, and
waving them above his head till they flamed out fiercely, he advanced
at a deliberate pace to within a few yards of the elephant who was
acting as leader of the party, and who was growling and trumpeting in
his rage, and flourished the flaming torches in his face. The effect
was instantaneous; the whole herd dashed away in a panic, bellowing,
screaming, and crushing through the underwood, whilst we availed
ourselves of the open path to make our way to our tents.”
[119] In the _Philosophical Transactions_ for 1701, there is “An
Account of the taking of Elephants in Ceylon, by Mr. STRACHAN, a
Physician who lived seventeen years there,” in which the author
describes the manner in which they were shipped by the Dutch, at
Matura, Galle, and Negombo. A piece of strong sail-cloth having been
wrapped round the elephant’s chest and stomach he was forced into the
sea between two tame ones, and there made fast to a boat. The tame ones
then returned to land, and he swam after the boat to the ship, where
tackle was reeved to the sail-cloth, and he was hoisted on board.
“But a better way has been invented lately,” says Mr. Strachan; “a
large flat-bottomed vessel is prepared, covered with planks like a
floor; so that this floor is almost of a height with the key. Then
the sides of the key and the vessel are adorned with green branches,
so that the elephant sees no water till he is in the ship.” (_Phil.
Trans._ vol. xxiii. No. 227, p. 1051.)
[120] VALENTYN, _Oud en Nieuw Oost-Indien_, ch. xv. p. 272.
[121] It is thus spelled by WOLF, in his _Life and Adventures_, p. 144.
_Corral_ is at the present day a household word in South America, and
especially in La Plata, to designate an _enclosure for cattle_.
[122] See Sir J. EMERSON TENNENT’S _Ceylon_ vol. I. pt. III. ch. xii.
p. 415.
[123] Another enormous mass of gneiss is called the Kuruminiagalla,
or the Beetle-rock, from its resemblance in shape to the back of that
insect, and hence is said to have been derived the name of the town,
_Kuruna-galle_ or Korne-galle.
[124] FORBES quotes a Tamil conveyance of land, the purchaser of
which is to “possess and enjoy it as long as the sun and the moon,
the earth and its vegetables, the mountains and the River Cauvery
exist.” (_Oriental Memoirs_, vol. ii. chap. ii.) It will not fail to
be observed, that the same figure was employed in Hebrew literature as
a type of duration—“They shall fear thee, _so long as the sun and moon
endure_; throughout all generations.” (Psalm lxxii. 5, 17.)
[125] _Pentaptera paniculata._
[126] _Entada pursætha._
[127] Fire, the sound of a horn, and the grunting of a boar are the
three things which the Greeks, in the middle ages, believed the
elephant specially to dislike:
Πῦρ δὲ πτοεῖται καὶ κριὸν κερασφόρον,
Καὶ τῶν μονιῶν τὴν βοὴν τὴν ἀθρόαν.
PHILE, _Expositio de Elephante_, 1. 177.
[128] The other elephant, a fine tusker, which belonged to Dehigam
Raté-mahat-meya, continued in extreme excitement throughout all the
subsequent operations of the capture, and at last, after attempting
to break its way into the corral, shaking the bars with its forehead
and tusks, it went off in a state of frenzy into the jungle. A few
days after the Aratchy went in search of it with a female decoy, and
watching its approach, sprang fairly on the infuriated beast, with a
pair of sharp hooks in his hands, which he pressed into tender parts in
front of the shoulder, and thus held the elephant firmly till chains
were passed over its legs, and it permitted itself to be led quietly
away.
[129] In some of the elephant hunts conducted in the southern provinces
of Ceylon by the earlier British Governors, as many as 170 and 200
elephants were secured in a single corral, of which a portion only
were taken out for the public service, and the rest shot, the motive
being to rid the neighbourhood of them, and thus protect the crops
from destruction. On the occasion here described, the object being to
secure only as many as were required for the Government stud, it was
not sought to entrap more than could conveniently be attended to and
trained after capture.
[130] This elephant is since dead; she grew infirm and diseased, and
died at Colombo in 1848. Her skeleton is now in the Museum of the
Natural History Society at Belfast.
[131] The fact of the elephant exhibiting timidity, on having a long
rod pointed towards him, was known to the Romans; and PLINY, quoting
from the annals of PISO, relates, that in order to inculcate contempt
for want of courage in the elephant, they were introduced into the
circus during the triumph of METELLUS, after the conquest of the
Carthaginians in Sicily, and _driven round the area by workmen holding
blunted spears_,—“Ab operariis hastas præpilatas habentibus, per circum
totum actos.” (_Nat. Hist._ lib. viii. c. 6.)
[132] “In a corral, to be on a tame elephant, seems to insure perfect
immunity from the attacks of the wild ones. I once saw the old chief
Mollegodde ride in amongst a herd of wild elephants, on a small
elephant; so small that the Adigar’s head was on a level with the back
of the wild animals: I felt very nervous, but he rode right in among
them, and received not the slightest molestation.”—_Letter from Major_
SKINNER.
[133] The surprising faculty of vultures for discovering carrion, has
been a subject of much speculation, as to whether it be dependent on
their power of sight or of scent. It is not, however, more mysterious
than the unerring certainty and rapidity with which some of the minor
animals, and more especially insects, in warm climates congregate
around the offal on which they feed. Circumstanced as they are, they
must be guided towards their object mainly if not exclusively by the
sense of smell; but that which excites astonishment is the small
degree of odour which seems to suffice for the purpose; the subtlety
and rapidity with which it traverses and impregnates the air; and the
keen and quick perception with which it is taken up by the organs of
those creatures. The instance of the scavenger beetles has been already
alluded to; the promptitude with which they discern the existence of
matter suited to their purposes, and the speed with which they hurry
to it from all directions; often from distances as extraordinary,
proportionably, as those traversed by the eye of the vulture. In the
instance of the dying elephant referred to above, life was barely
extinct when the flies, of which not one was visible but a moment
before, arrived in clouds and blackened the body by their multitude;
scarcely an instant was allowed to elapse for the commencement of
decomposition; no odour of putrefaction could be discerned by us who
stood close by; yet some peculiar smell of mortality, simultaneously
with parting breath, must have summoned them to the feast. Ants exhibit
an instinct equally surprising. I have sometimes covered up a particle
of refined sugar with paper on the centre of a polished table; and
counted the number of minutes which would elapse before it was fastened
on by the small black ants of Ceylon, and a line formed to lower it
safely to the floor. Here was a substance which, to our apprehension at
least, is altogether inodorous, and yet the quick sense of smell must
have been the only conductor of the ants. It has been observed of those
fishes which travel overland on the evaporation of the ponds in which
they live, that they invariably march in the direction of the nearest
water, and even when captured, and placed on the floor of a room,
their efforts to escape are always made towards the same point. Is the
sense of smell sufficient to account for this display of instinct in
them? or is it aided by special organs in the case of the others? Dr.
MCGEE, formerly of the ROYAL NAVY, writing to me on the subject of the
instant appearance of flies in the vicinity of dead bodies, says: “In
warm climates they do not wait for death to invite them to the banquet.
In Jamaica I have again and again seen them settle on a patient, and
hardly to be driven away by the nurse, the patient himself saying,
‘Here are these flies coming to eat me ere I am dead.’ At times they
have enabled the doctor, when otherwise he would have been in doubt as
to his prognosis, to determine whether the strange apyretic interval
occasionally present in the last stage of yellow fever was the fatal
lull or the lull of recovery; and ‘What say the flies?’ has been the
settling question. Among many, many cases during a long period I have
seen but one recovery after the assembling of the flies. I consider
the foregoing as a confirmation of smell being the guide even to the
attendants, a cadaverous smell has been perceived to arise from the
body of a patient twenty-four hours before death.”
[134] This is precisely the action ascribed by ARISTOTLE to the
elephant, when levelling palm trees. _De Anim. Hist._ 1. ix. c. 2.
[135] ARMANDI, _Hist. Milit. des Eléphants_, liv. i. ch. i. p. 2. It
is an interesting fact, noticed by ARMANDI, that the elephants figured
on the coins of Alexander and the Seleucidæ invariably exhibit the
characteristics of the Indian type, whilst those on Roman medals can
at once be pronounced African, from the peculiarities of the convex
forehead and expansive ears.—_Ibid._ liv. i. cap. i. p. 3.
[Illustration]
ARMANDI has, with infinite industry, collected from original sources a
mass of curious information relative to the employment of elephants in
ancient warfare, which he has published under the title of _Histoire
Militaire des Eléphants depuis les temps les plus reculés jusqu’à
l’introduction des armes à feu_. Paris, 1843.
[136] ÆLIAN, lib. ii. cap. ii.
[137] See SCHLEGEL’S Essay on the Elephant and the Sphynx, _Classical
Journal_, No. lx. Although the trained elephant nowhere appears upon
the monuments of the Egyptians, the animal was not unknown to them,
and ivory and elephants are figured on the walls of Thebes and Karnac
amongst the spoils of Thothmes III. and the tribute paid to Rameses
I. The Island of Elephantine, in the Nile, near Assouan (Syene) is
styled in hieroglyphical writing “The Land of the Elephant;” but as it
is a mere rock, it probably owes its designation to its form. See Sir
GARDNER WILKINSON’S _Ancient Egyptians_, vol. i. pl. iv.; vol. v. p.
176. Above the first cataract of the Nile are two small islands, each
bearing the name of Phylæ;—quære, is the derivation of this word at
all connected with the Arabic term _fil_? See _ante_, p. 4, note. The
elephant figured in the sculptures of Nineveh is universally as wild,
not domesticated.
[138] This is merely a reiteration of the statement of ÆLIAN, who
ascribes to the elephants of Taprobane a vast superiority in size,
strength, and intelligence, above those of continental India: Καὶ
ὁι δέ γε νησιῶται ἐλέφαντες τῶν ἠπειρωτῶν ἀλκιμωτεροί τε τὴν ῥώμην
καὶ μείζους ἰδεῖν εἰσὶ, καὶ θυμοσοφώτεροι δὲ πάντα πάντη κρίνοιντο
ἄν.—ÆLIAN, _De Nat. Anim._ lib. xvi. cap. xviii.
ÆLIAN also, in the same chapter, states the fact of the shipment of
elephants in large boats from Ceylon to the opposite continent of
India, for sale to the king of Kalinga; so that the export from Manaar,
described in a former passage, has been going on apparently without
interruption since the time of the Romans.
[139] The expression of TAVERNIER is to the effect, that as compared
with all others, the elephants of Ceylon are “plus courageux _à la
guerre_.” The rest of the passage is a curiosity:—
“Il faut remarquer ici une chose qu’on aura peut-être de la peine
à croire mais qui est toutefois très-véritable: c’est que lorsque
quelque roi ou quelque seigneur a quelqu’un de ces éléphants de Ceylan,
et qu’on en amène quelque autre des lieux où les marchands vont les
prendre, comme d’Achen, de Siam, d’Arakan, de Pégu, du royaume de
Boutan, d’Assam, des terres de Cochin et de la côte du Mélinde, dès
que les éléphants en voient un de Ceylan, par un instinct de nature,
ils lui font la révérence, portant le bout de leur trompe à la terre
et la relevant. Il est vrai que les éléphants que les grands seigneurs
entretiennent, quand on les amène devant eux, pour voir s’ils sont en
bon point, font trois fois une espèce de révérence avec leur trompe,
_ce que j’ai vu souvent_; mais ils sont stylés à cela, et leurs
maîtres le leur enseignent de bonne heure.”—_Les Six Voyages de_ J. B.
TAVERNIER, lib. iii. ch. 20.
[140] _Ramayana_, sec. vi.; CAREY and MARSHMAN, i. 105; FAUCHE, i. t.
p. 66.
[141] The only mention of the elephant in Sacred History is in the
account given in _Maccabees_ of the invasion of Egypt by Antiochus,
who entered it 170 B.C., “with chariots and elephants, and horsemen,
and a great navy.” (1 Macc. i. 17.) Frequent allusions to the use
of elephants in war occur in both books: and in chap. vi. 34, it is
stated that “to provoke the elephants to fight they show them the
blood of grapes and of mulberries.” The term showed, ἔδειξαν, might
be thought to imply that the animals were enraged by the sight of the
wine and its colour, but in the Third Book of Maccabees, in the Greek
Septuagint, various other passages show that wine, on such occasions,
was administered to the elephants to render them furious. (Macc. v. 2,
10, 45.) PHILE mentions the same fact, _De Elephante_, i. 145.
There is a very curious account of the mode in which the Arab
conquerors of Scinde, in the 9th and 10th centuries, equipped the
elephant for war; which being written with all the particularity of
an eye-witness, bears the impress of truth and accuracy. MASSOUDI,
who was born in Bagdad at the close of the 9th century, travelled in
India in the year A.D. 913, and visited the Gulf of Cambay, the coast
of Malabar, and the island of Ceylon:—from a larger account of his
journeys he compiled a summary under the title of “_Moroudj al-dzeheb_”
or the “_Golden Meadows_,” the MS. of which is now in the Bibliothèque
Nationale. M. REINAUD, in describing this manuscript, says, on its
authority, “The Prince of Mensura, whose dominions lay south of the
Indus, maintained eighty elephants trained for war, each of which bore
in his trunk a bent cymeter (carthel), with which he was taught to cut
and thrust at all confronting him. The trunk itself was effectually
protected by a coat of mail, and the rest of the body enveloped in
a covering composed jointly of iron and horn. Other elephants were
employed in drawing chariots, carrying baggage, and grinding forage,
and the performance of all bespoke the utmost intelligence and
docility.”—REINAUD, _Mémoire sur l’Inde, antérieurement au milieu du
XI^e siècle, d’après les écrivains arabes, persans et chinois_. Paris,
M.D.CCC.XLIX. p. 215. See SPRENGER’S English translation of Massoudi,
vol. i. p. 383.
[142] BRODERIP, _Zoological Recreations_, p. 226.
[143] The iron goad with which the keeper directs the movements of the
elephants, called a _hendoo_ in Ceylon and _hawkus_ in Bengal, appears
to have retained the present shape from the remotest antiquity. It is
figured in the medals of Caracalla in the identical form in which it is
in use at the present day in India.
[Illustration: Medal of Numidia.]
[Illustration: Modern Hendoo.]
The Greeks called it ἅρπη, and the Romans _cuspis_.
[144] JORDANUS DE SEVERAC, in his _Mirabilia Descripta_, written about
the year 1330, thus describes the mode then in use for taming captured
elephants in Cambodia:—“And so the wild elephant remaineth caught
between the two gates. Then cometh a man _clothed in black or red, with
his face covered_, who cruelly thrashes him from above, and crieth
out cruelly against him as against a ‘thief!’ and this goeth on for
five or six days; without his getting anything to eat or drink. Then
cometh another man with _his face bare and clad in another colour_, who
feigneth to smite the first man, and to drive and thrust him away. Then
he cometh to the elephant and talketh to him, and with a long spear he
scratcheth him, and he kisses him and gives him food. And this goes on
for ten or fifteen days, and so by degrees he ventureth down beside him
and bindeth him to another elephant. And then after about twenty days
he may be taken out to be taught and broken in.” (Chap. v.)
[145] This was the largest elephant that had been tamed in Ceylon; he
measured upwards of nine feet at the shoulders, and belonged to the
caste so highly prized for the temples. He was gentle after his first
capture, but his removal from the corral to the stables, though only
a distance of six miles, was a matter of the extremest difficulty:
his extraordinary strength rendering him more than a match for the
attendant decoys. He on one occasion escaped, but was recaptured in the
forest; and he afterwards became so docile as to perform a variety of
tricks. He was at length ordered to be removed to Colombo; but such was
his terror on approaching the fort, that on coaxing him to enter the
gate, he became paralysed in the extraordinary way elsewhere alluded
to, and died on the spot.
[146] The natives of Ceylon profess that the high-caste elephants, such
as are allotted to the temples, are of all others the most difficult to
tame, and M. BLES, the Dutch correspondent of BUFFON, mentions a caste
of elephants which he had heard of, as being peculiar to the Kandyan
kingdom, that were not higher than a heifer (génisse), covered with
hair, and insusceptible of being tamed. (BUFFON, _Supp._ vol. vi. p.
29.) Bishop HEBER, in the account of his journey from Bareilly towards
the Himalayas, describes the Raja Gourman Sing, “mounted on a little
female elephant, hardly bigger than a Durham ox, and almost as shaggy
as a poodle.” (_Journ._ ch. xvii.) It will be remembered that the
mammoth discovered in 1803 embedded in icy soil in Siberia, was covered
with a coat of long hair, with a sort of wool at the roots. Hence there
arose the question whether that northern region had been formerly
inhabited by a race of elephants, so fortified by nature against cold;
or whether the individual discovered had been borne thither by currents
from some more temperate latitudes. To the latter theory the presence
of hair seemed a fatal objection; but so far as my own observation
goes, I believe the elephants are more or less provided with hair.
In some it is more developed than in others, and it is particularly
observable in the young, which when captured are frequently covered
with a woolly fleece, especially about the head and shoulders. In the
older individuals in Ceylon, this is less apparent; and in captivity
the hair appears to be altogether removed by the custom of the mahouts
to rub their skin daily with oil and a rough lump of burned clay. See
a paper on the subject, _Asiat. Journ._ N. S. vol. xiv. p. 182, by Mr.
G. FAIRHOLME. Fossil remains of elephants of extremely small dimensions
have, it is said, been discovered in the island of Malta.
[147]
Διπλῆς δέ φασιν εὐπορῆσαι καρδίας·
Καὶ τῇ μὲν εἶναι θυμικὸν τὸ θηρίον
Εἰς ἀκρατῆ κίνησιν ἠρεθισμένον,
Τῇ δὲ προσηνὲς καὶ θρασύτητος ξένον.
Καὶ πῇ μὲν αὐτῶν ἀκροᾶσθαι τῶν λόγων
Οὓς ἄν τις Ἰνδὸς εὖ τιθασεύων λέγοι,
Πῇ δὲ πρὸς αὐτοὺς τοὺς νομεῖς ἐπιτρὲχειν
Εἰς τὰς παλαιὰς ἐκτραπὲν κακουργίας.
PHILE, _Expos. de Eleph._ l. 126, &c.
[148] Captain YULE, in his _Narrative of an Embassy to Ava in 1855_,
records an illustration of this tendency of the elephant to sudden
death; one newly captured, the process of taming which was exhibited to
the British Envoy, “made vigorous resistance to the placing of a collar
on its neck, and the people were proceeding to tighten it, when the
elephant, which had lain down as if quite exhausted, reared suddenly on
the hind quarters, and fell on its side—_dead!_” (P. 104.)
Mr. STRACHAN noticed the same liability of the elephants to sudden
death from very slight causes; “if they fall,” he says, “at any time,
though on plain ground, they either die immediately, or languish till
they die; their great weight occasioning them so much hurt by the
fall.” (_Phil. Trans._ A. D. 1701, vol. xxiii. p. 1052.)
[149] A correspondent informs me that on the Malabar coast of India,
the elephant, when employed in dragging stones, moves them by means of
a rope, which he either draws with his forehead, or manages by seizing
it in his teeth.
[150] “Here the trees were large and handsome, but not strong enough
to resist the inconceivable strength of the mighty monarch of these
forests; almost every tree had half its branches broken short by them,
and at every hundred yards I came upon entire trees, and these, _the
largest in the forest_, uprooted clean out of the ground, and _broken
short across their stems_.” (_A Hunter’s Life in South Africa._ By R.
GORDON CUMMING, vol.ii. p.305.) “Spreading out from one another, they
smash and destroy all the finest trees in the forest which happen to be
in their course.... I have rode through forests where the trees thus
broken lay so thick across one another, that it was almost impossible
to ride through the districts.” (_Ibid._ p.310.)
Mr. Gordon Cumming does not name the trees which he saw thus “uprooted”
and “broken across,” nor has he given any idea of their size and
weight; but Major DENHAM, who observed like traces of the elephant in
Africa, saw only small trees overthrown by them; and Mr. PRINGLE, who
had an opportunity of observing similar practices of the animals in the
neutral territory of the Eastern frontier of the Cape of Good Hope,
describes their ravages as being confined to the mimosas, “immense
numbers of which had been torn out of the ground, and placed in an
inverted position, in order to enable the animals to browse at their
ease on the soft and juicy roots, which form a favourite part of their
food. Many of the _larger mimosas had resisted all their efforts; and
indeed it is only after heavy rain, when the soil is soft and loose,
that they ever successfully attempt this operation_.” (PRINGLE’S
_Sketches of South Africa_.) Sir S. BAKER, whose observation confirms
my own, as to the limited dimensions of the trees overthrown by
elephants in Ceylon, says that in the vicinity of the White Nile, where
the principal food of the elephant is the mimosa, he saw trees uprooted
by them, which measured 30 feet high and 4 feet 6 inches in diameter.
But he is “convinced that no single elephant could have overturned
them; and the natives assured him that they mutually assist one
another, and that several engage together in the work of overthrowing
a large tree; the powerful tushes of some being applied as crowbars in
the roots while others pull at the branches their trunks.” (_The Albert
Nyanz_ vol. i. p. 276.)
[151] _Menageries_, _etc._ “The Elephant,” vol. ii. p. 23.
[152] _Menageries_, _etc._ ch. vi. p. 138.
[153] _Menageries_, _etc._ “The Elephant,” vol. i. p. 19.
[154] The principal sound by which the mahouts in Ceylon direct the
motions of the elephants is a repetition, with various modulations,
of the words _ur-re! ur-re!_ This is one of those interjections in
which the sound is so expressive of the sense that persons in charge
of animals of almost every description throughout the world appear to
have adopted it with a concurrence that is very curious. The drivers
of camels in Turkey, Palestine, and Egypt encourage them to speed
by shouting _ar-ré! ar-ré!_ The Arabs in Algeria cry _eirich!_ to
their mules. The Moors seem to have carried the custom with them into
Spain, where mules are still driven with cries of _arré_ (whence the
muleteers derive their Spanish appellation of “arrieros”). In France
the sportsman excites the hound by shouts of _hare! hare!_ and the
waggoner there turns his horses by his voice, and the use of the word
_hurhaut!_ In the North, “_Hurs_ was a word used by the old Germans in
urging their horses to speed:” and Sir FRANCIS HEAD, in his _Bubbles
from the Brunnens_, describes the Schwin-General shouting “_ariff_”
to his pigs...“_ariff!_ vociferated the old man, striding after one
of his rebellious subjects; _ariff!_ re-echoed his boy striding after
another.” (P.94.)
To the present day, the herdsmen in Ireland, and parts of Scotland,
drive their pigs with shouts of _hurrish!_ a sound closely resembling
that used by the mahouts in Ceylon.
[155] _On the Difference between the Human Membrana tympani and that of
the Elephant._ By Sir EVERARD HOME, Bart., _Philos. Trans._ 1823. Paper
by Prof. HARRISON, _Proc. Royal Irish Academy_, vol. iii. p. 386.
[156] I have already noticed the striking effect produced on the
captive elephants in the corral, by the harmonious notes of an ivory
flute; and on looking to the graphic description which is given by
ÆLIAN of the exploits which he witnessed as performed by the elephants
exhibited at Rome, it is remarkable how very large a share of their
training appears to have been ascribed to the employment of music.
PHILE, in the account which he has given of the elephant’s fondness
for music, would almost seem to have versified the prose narrative of
ÆLIAN, as he describes its excitement at the more animated portions,
its step being regulated to the time and movements of the harmony: the
whole “_surprising in a creature whose limbs are without joints!_”
Καινόν τι ποιῶν ἐξ ἀνάρθρων ὀργάνων.
PHILE, _Expos. de Eleph._ l. 216.
For an account of the training and performances of the elephants at
Rome, as narrated by ÆLIAN, see the appendix to this chapter.
[157] _The Angler in the Lake District_, p. 23. A similar story is told
in the _Memoir of Bishop Wilson_, of an elephant which when suffering
with ophthalmia had experienced the relief derived from a solution of
nitrate of silver, and voluntarily offered its eye for a re-application
of the remedy, on a second visit of the surgeon.
[158] A shocking account of the death of this poor animal is given in
HONE’S _Every-Day Book_, March 1830, p. 337.
[159] ÆLIAN, lib. xiii. c. 7.
[160] The elephant which was dissected by Dr. HARRISON of Dublin, in
1847, died of a febrile attack, after four or five days’ illness,
which, as Dr. H. tells me in a private letter, was “very like
scarlatina, at that time a prevailing disease: its skin in some places
became almost scarlet.”
[161] See a paper, entitled “_Recollections of Ceylon_,” in _Fraser’s
Magazine_ for December 1860.
[162] _Annales du Muséum_, F. viii. 1805. p. 94, and _Ossemens
Fossiles_, quoted by OWEN, in the article on “Teeth,” in TODD’S
_Cyclop. of Anatomy_, _etc._ vol. iv. p. 929.
[163] An ordinary-sized elephant engrosses the undivided attention
of _three_ men. One, as his mahout or superintendent, and two as
leaf-cutters, who bring him branches and grass for his daily supplies.
An animal of larger growth would probably require a third leaf-cutter.
The daily consumption is two cwt. of green food with about half a
bushel of grain. When in the vicinity of towns and villages, the
attendants have no difficulty in procuring an abundant supply of
the branches of the trees to which elephants are partial; and in
journeys through the forests and unopened country, the leaf-cutters
are sufficiently expert in the knowledge of those particular plants
with which the elephant is satisfied. Those that would be likely
to disagree with him he unerringly rejects. His favourites are the
palms, especially the cluster of rich, unopened leaves, known as the
“cabbage,” of the coco-nut and areca; and he delights to tear open
the young trunks of the palmyra and jaggery (_Caryota urens_) in
search of the farinaceous matter contained in the spongy pith. Next to
these come the varieties of fig-trees, particularly the sacred _Bo_
(_F. religiosa_) which is found near every temple, and the _na gaha_
(_Messua ferrea_), with thick dark leaves and a scarlet flower. The
leaves of the jak-tree and bread-fruit (_Artocarpus integrifolia_,
and _A. incisa_), the wood apple (_Ægle Marmelos_), Palu (_Mimusops
Indica_), and a number of others well known to their attendants, are
all consumed in turn. The stems of the plaintain, the stalks of the
sugar-cane, and the feathery tops of the bamboos, are irresistible
luxuries. Pine-apples, water-melons, and fruits of every description,
are voraciously devoured, and a coconut when found is first rolled
under foot to detach it from the husk and fibre, and then raised in his
trunk and crushed almost without an effort, by his ponderous jaws.
The grasses are not found in sufficient quantity to be an item of daily
fodder; the Mauritius or the Guinea grass is seized with avidity; lemon
grass is rejected from its overpowering perfume, but rice in the straw,
and every description of grain, whether growing or dry; gram (_Cicer
arietinum_), Indian corn, and millet, are his natural food. Of such of
these as can be found, it is the duty of the leaf-cutters, when in the
jungle and on march, to provide a daily supply.
[164] ARISTOTELES _de Anim._ 1. viii. c. 9.
[165] _Ménag. de Mus. Nat._ p. 107.
[166] _Ostéographie_, “Eléph.” p. 74.
[167] FLEURENS, _De la Longévité Humaine_, pp. 82, 89.
[168] This remark regarding the elephant of Ceylon does not appear to
extend to that of Africa, as I observe that BEAVER, in his _African
Memoranda_, says that “the skeletons of old ones that have died in the
woods are frequently found.” (_African Memoranda relative to an attempt
to establish British Settlements at the Island of Bulama._ Lond. 1815,
p. 353.)
[169] A corral was organised near Putlam in 1846, by Mr. Morris, the
chief officer of the district. It was constructed across one of the
paths to which the elephants resort in their frequent marches, and
during the course of the proceedings two of the captured elephants
died. Their carcases were left of course within the enclosure, which
was abandoned as soon as the capture was complete. The wild elephants
resumed their path through it, and a few days afterwards the headman
reported to Mr. Morris that the bodies had been removed and carried
outside the corral to a spot to which nothing but the elephants could
have borne them.
[170] _Expositio de Eleph._ l. 243.
[171] The selection by animals of a _place to die_, is not confined to
the elephant. DARWIN says, that in South America “the guanacos (llamas)
appear to have favourite spots for lying down to die; on the banks
of the Santa Cruz river, in certain circumscribed spaces which were
generally bushy and all near the water, the ground was actually white
with their bones: on one such spot I counted between ten and twenty
heads.”—_Nat. Voy._ ch. viii. The same has been remarked in the Rio
Gallegos; and at St. Jago in the Cape de Verde Islands, DARWIN saw a
retired corner similarly covered with the bones of the goat, as if it
were “the burial-ground of all the goats in the island.”
[172] _Arabian Nights’ Entertainment_, LANE’S edition, vol. iii. p. 77.
[173] See a disquisition on the origin of the story of Sinbad, by
M. REINAUD, in the introduction prefixed to his translation of the
_Arabian Geography of Aboulfeda_, vol. i. p. lxxvi.
INDEX.
ADAM’S PEAK, ascent of by elephants, _page_ 41
——, encounter with wild elephants near, 77
Adventures with elephants, 71
ÆLIAN, account of the export of elephants from Ceylon, 5 _n._
—— his fallacy as to the elephant shedding his tusks, 7 _n._
—— alleged antipathy of the elephant and rhinoceros, 9, 15
—— his account of training, 151
—— error as to the elephant being without joints, 34, 35 _n._
—— says elephants were trained to kill by their knees, 16 _n._
—— on the supposed superiority of the Ceylon to the Indian elephant,
152 _n._
—— elephant, love of music, 168 _n._
—— elephants performing at Rome, 168 _n._, 183
Aetagalla Rock, legend of, 107
Affection for their young, 47
African elephant teeth different from Indian, vii.
—— ribs and vertebræ, viii. 20
—— both sexes have tusks, 6
—— ivory preferred to Ceylon in Europe, 6 _n._
—— conjecture respecting tusks, 7
—— great size of tusks; 300 lbs. and upwards, 7, 8
African elephant is not vulnerable in the forehead, as the Ceylon
elephant is, _page_ 81
Age of elephants, 123, 177
—— estimated duration of life in, 177
Airavanta, Sanscrit, origin of the word elephant, 4 _n._
Alce. _See_ Elk, 33
_Alexandri Epistola ad Aristolelem_, 11
Alexander the Great, his Indian expedition, 150
—— coins of, 151 _n._
_Alisaunder_, English romance of, 12 _n._
Allia. _See_ Hora allia, 82. _See_ Rogue
Alligator River, elephant hunt at, 106
Anarajapoora, instinct exhibited by elephants at, 65
Anatomy of the elephant imperfectly known, 56
—— account of by Molyneux, A.D. 1696, 56 _n._
ANSTED, Prof., on the height of elephants, 31 _n._
Antipater brought the first Indian elephant to Greece, 150
Antipathy of elephants to other animals, 12, 15
—— its improbability, 15
Ants, superior to the elephant in sagacity, 68
—— their marvellous power of discovering sugar, 139 _n._
_Arabian Nights_, story of the burial place of dead elephants, 182
ἅρπη. _See_ Hendoo, 156 _n._
ARISTOTLE, on the trunk of the elephant, 28 _n._
—— on the fallacy of the elephant having no joints, 33
—— on the double stomach of the elephant, 57 _n._
—— on its mode of levelling trees, 140 _n._
ARMANDI, error as to the height of Ceylon elephant, 31 _n._
—— on the double stomach of, 67 _n._
—— on elephants in war, 151
_Ar-ré_, sound to guide elephants, 167 _n._
—— its variations in various countries, ib.
_Arundel MSS._, errors as to the elephant, 36
Assam, elephant of, x.
Avisavelle, elephant corral at, 43
BADULLA, fight between two elephants at, 16
—— adventures with elephants near, 71, 74
BAKER, Sir SAMUEL, on the weight of African ivory, 8 _n._
—— his stories of elephant shooting, 77 _n._
—— on the difference between the Ceylon and African species, 20 _n._
—— on power to uproot trees, 162 _n._
—— on the size of the elephant’s foot in Africa, 98 _n._
BARBEZIEUX, RICHARD DE, error as to joints of elephant, 37
Bari, size of African ivory at, 8 _n._
Bathing elephants, story of, 51, 55 _n._
BENARY, his theory of the derivation of the word elephant, 4 _n._
Bengal, elephants of, viii.
—— method of poisoning them, 6
—— mode of capturing them, 104
Bentinck, Baron, communication from, viii. ix.
BERNIER, as to the supposed superiority of the Ceylon elephant to that
of India, 152
“_Bestiaries_” of the Middle Ages, in error as to the joints
of the elephant,36
Burmah, method of capturing elephants in, 97
Bison, its instinct as to harvest time, 64
BLAIR, Dr., on the anatomy of the elephant, 56 _n._
BLES, M., affection of elephants for their young, 47. _See_ Buffon
—— on training elephants, 159 _n._
Bo-trees, sacred; eaten by elephants, 111.
BOCHART, derivation of the word _elephant_, 4 _n._
BONAPARTE, Prince LUCIEN, his account of the Sumatran elephant, viii.
Breeding in captivity, fallacy as to, 176
BRODERIP, on the mode of training, 155
—— on the size of tusks in elephants, 8 _n._
—— on the stomach of, 56
BROOKE, Sir VICTOR, Bart., great elephant shot by, 9 _n._
—— immense tusk, 16
BROWNE, Sir THOMAS, _Vulgar Errors_, exposes the delusion as to there
being no joints in the elephant, 32, 38
BUCHANAN, on rogue elephants, 49 _n._
Buffalo, double stomach of, 63
BUFFON. _See_ BLES
—— on the double stomach of the elephant, 57 _n._
—— on training, 159 _n._
Burial place of the elephants, as told in the story of _Sinbad
of the Sea_, 181
Burying their dead, alleged habit of elephants, 180
CÆSAR, his story of the _alce_, 33
Cambodia, method of training elephants in, 157
Camel, alleged antipathy of the elephant to, 13
—— cellular stomach, 60
CAMPER, on the double stomach of the elephant, 58
Captivity, conduct of elephants when first taken, 150
Carthaginians employed elephants in war, 151
Caution of elephants as to pit-falls alleged, but doubtful, 67
Ceylon, geological formation of the island, vii.
—— export of elephants to India, viii. 5
—— profuse number of elephants in, 5
—— cause of declining numbers, 6
Charlemagne, elephant sent to by Haroun Alraschid, 35
Chena cultivation, 64
China, Ceylon ivory preferred for carving, 62
Chittagong, elephant of, x.
Chuny, the tame elephant killed at Exeter Change, its cruel death, 169
Climbing, ability of the elephant in, 41
Cochin China, elephant of, xi.
COCKAYNE. See _Alexandri Epistola, etc._, 11
Coco-nut, how eaten by an elephant, 64
COLERIDGE, on the sagacity of the elephant, 68
Colombo frequented by elephants in 1705 A. D., 5
COMBE, on the brain of the elephant, 86
Cooroowe. _See_ Noosers, 122, 155
Coroners’ inquests show few deaths by elephants, 10
Corral or Kraal, operations of, 95
—— in Bengal, how constructed. _See_ Keddah, 104
—— dimensions, 113
—— form of, 112
—— its strength, 114
—— the drive of the elephants, 115
—— the rush and return, 116
—— singular night scene, 117
—— the capture made, 118
—— noosed and secured, 121
—— distress of the captives, and their struggles, 125, 135
—— terror of the elephants for white rods, 128
—— noticed by Pliny, 128, _n._
—— conduct of the young ones, 137
—— extraordinary scene, 140
—— interesting demeanour of the captives, 140
—— a second herd driven in and taken, 143
—— leading out the captives, 147
CORSE, his account of the Indian elephant, 47
COSMAS INDICOPLEUSTES, his account of the export of elephants
from Ceylon, 5 _n._
Courage in open ground, 86, 87
Cripps, Mr., description of a strange sound made by elephants, 29
—— story of an elephant feigning death, 70
—— on the taming and training of elephants, 158
—— on their attachment to attendants, 166
Cripps, Mr., on elephants breeding in captivity, 177
Cruelties in elephant shooting, 77 _n._
CTESIAS, fallacy that the elephant has no joints, 33
CUMMING, Mr. GORDON, his cruel experiments on the vital endurance
of the elephant, 81 _n._
—— questionable stories of trees uprooted by elephants, 162 _n._
Curiosity, spirit of, strong in the elephant, 67
—— story of Colonel Hardy, 67
Cuspis. _See_ Hendoo, 156 _n._
Cuttack, elephant of, x.
—— method of poisoning elephants in, 6
CUVIER, on the comparative sagacity of the elephant, 68
—— on the tusks of elephants, 173
—— on duration of life in, 177
_DAH! DAH!_ word hateful to wild elephant, 100
_Dakra_, a poison for elephants in Bengal, 6 _n._
DARWIN, on the burial place of llamas and goats, 101 _n._
DAVY, Dr., on endurance of pain in the elephant, 168
—— on the spirit of curiosity in the elephant, 67
Dawson, Capt., an elephant shot by, dies standing, 39
DE BLAINVILLE, on the duration of life in the elephant, 177
DE BRY, story of a horse killed by a trained elephant, 13
Dead elephant, body rarely found, 179
Deafness occasional in elephants, 30
Death feigned by an elephant, 70
Decoy elephants, their conduct, 119, 123, 134
_Défenses_. _See_ Tusks, 9
Dekkan, elephant of the, xi.
De Lima, General, immense tusks got by, in Africa, 8 _n._
DENHAM, Major, on the height of an African elephant, 31
——, Major, power of elephant to overthrow trees, 162 _n._
Descending acclivities, mode of, 44
Dentine, 173. _See_ Ivory
DICUIL, description of the elephant of Charlemagne, 35
Dinka, size of African ivory at, 8 _n._, 12
DIODORUS SICULUS, on the sagacity of the Indian elephant, 150
Dogs, elephants impatient of, 14
—— Major Skinner’s dog, kept off the elephants by its bark, 15
—— superior in sagacity to the elephant, 69
DONNE, His error as to the joints of the elephant, 38
Dublin, elephant burnt to death, 26 _n._
“Duipa,” an Indian name of the elephant, its signification, 63 _n._
Dust, habit of throwing it over themselves, 133
Dutch possessions in India, vii. _See_ Temminck
—— elephant hunts conducted by, 95
EAR, formation of, 167
—— love of music, 168 _n._
—— Sir EVERARD HOME, on hearing in the elephant, 167
Ebony, logs piled by elephants, 164
“Eleph,” Hebrew, conjectured to be the root of elepha, 4 _n._
“_Elephant_,” derivation of the word, 4 _n._
—— conjectures of Pictet, Bochart, Pott, and Benary, 4 _n._
—— great numbers in Ceylon, 5
—— will ere long be extinct in India, 6 _n._
—— alleged enmity to man, and other animals, 10
—— signs of perfection in. See _Hastisilpe_, 21
—— natural colour of the skin, 22
—— loves shade, 25
—— scene, by night while bathing, 52
—— stomach of the elephant double, 56
—— the Ceylon elephant supposed to exceed that of India in sagacity,
152
Elephant, the first brought to Greece by Antipater, 150
Elephant shooting. _See_ Shooting ἐλέφας signified not the elephant,
but its _ivory_, 4 _n._
—— Benary’s derivation of the word, 66 _n._
Elephas Sumatranus. _See_ Sumatra, viii.
—— supposed to differ from the elephant of India, vii.
—— this theory doubted by Dr. Falconer, ix.
Elk, error of Cæsar in saying that the “alce” has no joints, 33
_Englishman, Voyage of a certain_, story of an elephant killing a
horse, 13 _n._
EVELYN, JOHN, refutes the fallacy that the elephant has no joints, 33
Eye of the elephant small, 26, ib. _n._
—— its accuracy when engaged in working, 26
FAIRHOLME on the elephant, 159 _n._
FALCONER, Dr., doubts the alleged difference between the elephants
of Sumatra and India, ix.
—— on the height of elephants, 31 _n._
Fanning themselves, habit of, 84
—— extreme grace of the movement, 136
—— in the corral, 135
Feet, habit of swinging, 84
—— not, as supposed, a substitute for exercise, 85
Females in a herd, numerous, 47
Fences, elephant’s dread of, 65
_Fils-ben_, Danish for ivory, 4 _n._
Flesh of the elephant coarse, 88
FLEURENS, on the duration of life in the elephant, 177
Flies, their marvellous faculty of discerning carrion, 139 _n._
—— account of their hurrying to death-beds, 139 _n._
Food of the elephant when wild, 63
—— when tamed and trained, 175
Foot, a frequent seat of disease, 170
—— its extreme sensitiveness, 133
—— of the elephant makes good soup, 89
—— twice its circumference equal to the height of the animal, 98 _n._
FORBES, anecdote from his _Oriental Memoirs_, 107 _n._
Forehead of the elephant, wound in, fatal, 80
Fossil elephant, 159 _n._
Fretz, Gerard, frightful wound, 90
GADJAH. _See_ Sumatran elephant, viii.
Gallwey, Capt. P. Payne, number of elephants shot by him, 77 _n._
Geological formation of Ceylon, vii.
“_Goondah._” _See_ Rogue, 48
Gooneratné Modliar, his derivation for the word elephant, 5 _n._
GUILLIM, heraldry of the elephant, 38 _n._
HAIRY elephants, 159 _n._
Hardy, Colonel, story of, 69
Haroun, Alraschid, sends an elephant to Charlemagne, 35
HARRISON, Dr., on the anatomy of the elephant, 26 _n._, 57 _n._, 60, 61
—— on the structure of the head, 79
—— on the ear of the elephant, 167
_Hastisilpe_, a Singhalese work on elephants, 17 _n._, 21
Hawkus. _See_ Hendoo, 155
Head, wound in, fatal, 79
—— section of, 80
—— this fact noticed by Pliny, 79 _n._
Hearing. _See_ Ear
Heber, Bishop, describes a diminutive species of elephant, 159 _n._
Hedges, dreaded by elephants, 67
Height, exaggerated estimates of, in elephants, 30
Hendoo, used by the mahout, 155
Herd, the term described as applied to the elephant, 45
—— similarity of features in, 45
—— submissive to one leader, 50
—— their conventional association and attachment, 45
HERODOTUS, account of the antipathy of the elephant to the camel, 13
—— veneration for white horses and white oxen, 23
Himalayas, elephant paths on, 43
Hippopotamus, solitary individuals of, 49
HODGSON, Mr. B. H., his explorations in Nepal, xi.
Hog, double stomach of, 58
HOLLAND, DR., on the physiology of tusks, 17 _n._
HOME, Sir EVERARD, on the double stomach of the elephant, 58
—— on the ear of the elephant, 166, 167
HOME, RANDAL, his heraldry of the elephant, 38
HOOKER, Dr., elephants in the Himalayas, 43
_Hora._ _See_ Rogue, 47, 72
HORACE, mentions a white elephant at Rome, 24
Horse, alleged antipathy of the elephant to, 12
—— instances in disproof of this, 13
—— killed by a trained elephant, 13
—— anecdote of the meeting of a horse and an elephant, 19
—— structure of the shoulder joint, 41
IDLENESS, love of, in tame elephants, 165
Indian elephant supposed to differ from that of Sumatra, viii.
—— comparative anatomy of, vii.
—— varieties of the same species in, x.
—— elephant is dying out in India, 6 _n._
Indicopleustes (_see_ Cosmas), export of elephants, 5
Ivory, annual importations of, 6 _n._
—— proportion from Ceylon, 6 _n._
—— of Ceylon preferred in China, 6 _n._
—— African preferred in Europe, 6 _n._
—— weight of, in various countries, 8 _n._
—— immense African tusks at Goa, 8 _n._
—— how formed. _See_ Dentine, 173
JAFFNA, instinct shown by elephants at, 64
JARDINE, SIR WILLIAM, fallacy as to elephants shedding tusks, 7 _n._
Java, no elephants in the island, viii.
Joints, ancient error as to the elephant having none, 32
—— explanation of its origin, 38, 39
KANDY, the King of, held the killing of an elephant a criminal offence,
5
—— his hunts for capturing elephants, 96
Keddah. _See_ Corral, 104
Kimbul-oya. _See_ Alligator River, 106
Knox, his account of executions by trained elephants, 17
—— on the attachment of the herd to the young, 47
—— his accounts of elephant hunts in Kandy 77 _n._
Kombook tree; lime extracted from the bark, 110
Korahl. _See_ Corral.
Korles, the Seven, elephant hunts in, 4
Kornegalle, beauty of the place, 107
—— its temple the resort of Buddhists, 108
—— sacred footstep on the rock, 108
Kraal. _See_ Corral
—— derivation of the word, 105
Kurahl. _See_ Corral
Kurminia-galla, 107 _n._
Kurunoi-galla. _See_ Kornegalle
LABOUR of tame elephants too costly, 164, 174.
_See_ Tame Elephants
Lampongs. _See_ Sumatra, viii.
Leap, the elephant unable to, 40
—— anecdote, doubtful, of an elephant leaping, 41
LE BRUN, his account of the elephants in Ceylon, 5 _n._
Leyden, elephants in Museum, x.
Life, duration of in the elephant, 177, 178
Lightning, dreaded by elephants, 68
Lindsay, Mr., adventure with elephants, 75
LIVINGSTONE, Dr., on the solitary hippopotamus, 49
Llama, double stomach of, 60 _n._
Louis XIV., elephant belonging to, 57
Loxodon. _See_ Elephas Sumatranus, viii.
_Luca bos_, Roman term for the elephants of Pyrrhus, 4 _n._
_MACCABEES_, story of Jews killed by elephants, 16 _n._, 154 _n._
Machlis, an unknown animal, described by Pliny, 33
M‘GEE, Dr., his account of flies hurrying towards persons dying,
139 _n._
_Mahawanse_, mention of a white elephant in, 23
Mahout, elephant driver, the power of discrimination in India, x.
—— conduct of the mahouts in a corral, 129
—— mahouts said to die young, 166
Males, proportion of in a herd, small, 47
Malta, small fossil elephant found at, 159 _n._
Man, elephant has no natural antipathy to, 10
—— few deaths occasioned by them, 10
Manaar, singular scene on shipping elephants for India, 102
—— described in A.D. 1701, 102
_Marfil_, Spanish name for ivory, 4 _n._
—— _See Mafirm_, Portuguese, ib.
Marfil, Palma de, the vegetable ivory palm, 4 _n._
_Marfim_, Portuguese for ivory, 4 _n._
MASSOUDI, on the use of the elephant in war, 159 _n._
MATTHEW PARIS, his error as to the joints of the elephant, 36
Matura, elephants shipped from for India, 103
Mercer, Mr. Græme, story of a fight between two elephants, 16
Metatarsus, shortness of, enables the elephant to climb, 43
MOLYNEUX, his anatomy of the elephant, 56
Moormen of Ceylon, 97.
_See_ Panickeas.
MORRIS, Mr., conducts the corral in 1847, 109
MOULIN, A., his letter to Sir William Petty, 56 _n._
“_Mudda._” _See_ “Must,” 11
Muddy water not objected to by elephants, 55
Music, elephants’ love of, 168
“Must,” term explained, 11
NOUAER, size of African ivory at, 8 _n._
NATIVES of Ceylon, their narratives of accidents and adventures with
elephants, 71
Negombo, adventures with elephants at, 75
Nepal-root, a poison for elephants, 6
Nepal, mode of capturing elephants in, 97
Nile, White, enormous tusks got near, 8 _n._
_See_ Baker, Sir Samuel
Noises produced by elephants, 27
Noosers. _See_ Cooroowe, 122
—— their extraordinary courage, 136
Noosing elephants, as practised by the Panickeas, 99
Noosing in a corral, operation described, 122, 124
Numidia, Medal of, 156 _n._
OLFACTORY lobes, 26 _n._
Optic nerve in the elephant, 26 _n._
Osteology of the elephant. _See_ Teeth, viii. x.
OWEN, Prof., on the anatomy of the elephant, 56 _n._, 59, 60, 62
—— on the formation of ivory, 173
PAIN, patient endurance of, 168
PALLEGOIX, on the white elephant, 23 _n._
—— on sounds produced by elephants, 30 _n._
Palma de marfil, the vegetable ivory palm, 4 _n._
Panickeas, their marvellous skill as trackers, 97
—— their singular courage, 79
—— their method of capturing wild elephants, 99
—— mode of taming after capture, 101
—— their method of conducting the captives to the coast, 101
PARIS. _See_ MATTHEW PARIS.
Peccary, double stomach of, 58
PETHERICK, his account of large ivory in Soudan, 8 _n._
PHILE, his error as to the joints of the elephant, 35
—— difficulty of the elephant in rising, 30
—— elephant does not object to muddy water, 55 _n._
—— thinks the elephant hates the pig, 117 _n._
—— on elephants as executioners, 154 _n._
—— elephant’s love of music, 168 _n._
PHILLIPE, on the supposed superiority of the Ceylon to the Indian
elephant, 152
_Physiologus._ _See_ THEROALDUS, 36
PICTET, Prof., his essay on the derivation of the word _elephant_,
4 _n._
Pigs, antipathy of the elephant to. _See_ Swine, 14
—— spoil the capture at a corral, 116
Pingo, 71 _n._
Pit-falls, elephants surprised in, 67.
—— objections to, 96
PLINY, his fallacy as to the elephant shedding his tusks, 7 _n._
—— as to the antipathy of the elephant to other animals, 15
—— error as to the joints of the elephant, 32
—— the _machlis_, 33
—— terror of the elephant for white rods, 128
—— mode of taming it, 151
—— belief that the elephant has two hearts, 160
Poison for destroying elephants in Bengal, 6
POLYHISTOR. _See_ SOLINUS, 35
Ponnekella. _See_ Mahout, 122
Portuguese, elephant hunts conducted by, 95
—— origin of the word corral, 105
POTT, conjecture as to the derivation of the word “elephant,” 4 _n._
PRINGLE, on power of elephant to uproot trees, 162 _n._
Provençal song-writers, errors as to the elephant, 37
_Pseudodoxia Epidemica._ _See_ Sir THOMAS BROWNE.
Ptolemy Philopater, employs elephant to kill Jewish martyrs, 16 _n._
Punishments for tame elephants, 165
Puswael, a gigantic bean, 110
PYRARD, on the supposed superiority of the elephant of Ceylon to that
of India, 152
Pyrrhus, his elephants, 4 _n._, 150
RAIN, coming of foreseen by the elephant, 69
Raja-Kariya, 110.
_See_ Ripon.
Ramgur, method of poisoning elephants in, 6
Ranghani, the nooser, 123
—— his prowess and success, 127
Raté-mahat-meyas, encourage the taking of elephants in corrals, 111
REINAUD, on the use of the elephant in war, 154 _n._
Repose, peaceful, of the elephant, 84
Retirement, love of, 85
Rhinoceros, alleged antipathy between and the elephant, 9
Ripon, Earl of, abolishes rajakariya, 110
Rise, difficulty of the elephant to, 38, 39
Rogers, Major, story of his horse and the elephants, 13 _n._
—— elephant shot by him falls on its knees, 39
—— number killed by him, 77 _n._
Rogue elephant, their origin and habits, 46
—— their vice and depredations, 49, 50, 82 _n._
—— captured in a corral, 138
—— his death, 138
Rome, performance of elephants, 168 _n._, 183
Ronkedor. _See_ Rogue, 47 _n._
Ronquedue. _See_ Rogue, ib.
SAGACITY of the elephant, its superiority questioned, 68
—— Indian elephant said to excel the African in, 150
—— compared with that of the horse and dog, 161
Saragossa, elephant fight, exhibited, 10 _n._
SCHLEGEL, Prof., on the elephant of Sumatra, viii.
—— doubts its distinctness from the elephant of Ceylon, viii.-xi.
—— on the supposed superiority of the Ceylon to the Indian elephant,
152 _n._
Serpents, in Ceylon, more accidents from than from elephants, 10
SEVERAC, JORDANUS DE, on the mode of training elephants in Cambodia,
157 _n._
SHAKSPEARE, error as to the joints of the elephant, 37
—— on capturing elephants in pitfalls, 96 _n._
Shaw, fallacy as to the elephant shedding the tusks, 7 _n._
Shilook, size of African ivory at, 83
Shooting elephants, 77
—— cruelties of, 77 _n._
—— fatal spot in head, 79, and ear, ib.
Siam, elephant of, xi.
—— sounds produced by, 30 _n._
Sight, power of, 26
—— accuracy of eye when working, 162
Silhet, elephant of, x.
_Sinbad of the Sea_, story of the burial place of dead elephants, 181
Siribeddi, the female decoy, her ability, 123
—— her conduct, 145
SKINNER, MAJOR, story of his dog, 15
—— his description of a strange sound made by elephants, 29
—— finds elephant traces on Adam’s Peak, 41
—— number of elephants shot by him, 78
—— scene described by,—elephants at night, 51
—— story of the courage of an elephant hunter, 99 _n._
SLEAMAN, General, account of wolves suckling children, 47 _n._
Sloane, Sir Hans, on the anatomy of the elephant, 56 _n._
Smell, power of, 27, 98
SOLINUS, his error as to the joints of the elephant, 35
Sounds uttered by the elephant, 27
Soup, made from the elephant’s foot, 89
Speed of an elephant, 32
Sport. _See_ Shooting
Stomach of the elephant, double, 56
Stones, how raised by elephants, 162
STRACHAN, Mr., description of shipping elephants at Manaar, 103 _n._
—— on their liability to sudden death, 160 _n._
Structure of the elephant, 4
STUCKLEY, Dr. WILLIAM, on the anatomy of the elephant, 56 _n._
Sudden death, liability of elephants to, 159, 160 _n._
“Sun and moon,” emblems of duration, 187
Sumatra, elephant of, viii.
—— called _gadjah_, viii.
—— description by Temminck, vii. _n._
—— opinion of Prof. Schlegel on its distinctness from the elephant
of India, viii.
—— ribs and vertebræ, vii.
—— teeth of, viii.
—— this opinion controverted by Dr. Falconer, ix.
Surgical operations on elephants, 168
Swimming, action of the elephant in, 55
Swine, alleged antipathy of elephant to, 11, 14
TAME elephants, their conduct in the corral, 134.
_See_ Decoys
—— value of their labour 162, 174
—— levelling trees, 163
—— piling timber, 164
—— laziness, 165
—— punishments, 165
—— attachment to attendants, 166
—— medical treatment, 168, 170
—— obedience to orders, 169
—— causes of death in captivity, 171
—— weight of draught, 174
—— cost of feeding a tame elephant, 175
—— favourite food, 175
TAVERNIER, on the supposed superiority of the elephant of Ceylon,
153 _n._
Teeth of the Sumatran elephant, viii.
TEMMINCK’S _Dutch Possessions in India_, viii.
—— account of Sumatran elephant, viii.
THEROALDUS, _Physiologus_, error in, as to the joints of the elephant,
36
THEVENOT, on the supposed superiority of the Ceylon elephant to that
of India, 152
THOMSON, error in his _Seasons_, as to the joints of the elephant, 38
Timber, how dragged by elephants, 161 _n._, 162
—— wonderful skill in piling of, 164
Tipperah, elephant of, x.
Tissaweva. _See_ Anarajapoora, 65
Tooth-ache, 172
Training elephants, 150, &c.
—— first employments, 161
—— males more unmanageable than females, 158
—— process of, 150
—— varieties of disposition, 159
Trees, manner in which elephants level them, 146
—— stories of overthrowing exaggerated, 162
_Trompe._ _See_ Trunk
Trumpeting, peculiar sound of, 144
Trunk, so called from “trump,” 28
—— Aristotle compares the sound to a trumpet, ib.
—— strange drawings of, in the fifteenth century, 28 _n._
Tushes, their use to the elephant, 7
—— they, and not the tusks, shed, 7 _n._
Tuskers, influence of in the herd, 50
—— their efficiency in a corral, 136
Tusks, rare in the Ceylon elephant, 6
—— in Africa both male and female have them, 6
—— average weight of those imported, 60 cwt., 6 _n._
—— in Ceylon are light, owing to the animals being shot young,
6 _n._, 8
—— a favourite treasure in Buddhist temples, 6 _n._, 8
—— both sexes have, in India and Africa, 6 _n._, 8
—— fallacy as to the elephant shedding his tusks, 7
—— conjecture as to the presence of, in African elephant, and their
absence in that of India and Ceylon, 7
—— weight in various countries, 8 _n._
—— instance of a diseased one, 8 _n._
_See_ Brooke, Sir Victor
—— female elephant has none, in Ceylon, 9
—— not ordinarily used as weapons of offence, 9
—— fight between an elephant and two bulls, at Saragossa, 10 _n._
—— fight of two elephants with their tusks, 10
—— story in Maccabees of Jews killed by elephants, 16 _n._
—— what is their use, 17, 17 _n._
—— abnormal varieties in shape, 17 _n._
TYTLER, Mr., story of curiosity in elephants, 67 _n._
VALENTYN, his account of shipping elephants for India from Ceylon, 103
Vegetable ivory palm, 4 _n._
_Vulgar Errors._ _See_ Sir THOMAS BROWNE, 32
WATER, love of the elephant for, 4 _n._
—— attempt to derive the word _elephant_ from, 4 _n._
—— receptacle for, in the stomach, 56
—— quantities withdrawn by the trunk in the corral, 133
Weber’s _Metrical Romance_ of the thirteenth century, 12 _n._
Wells, dug by elephants, 54
White elephant; a lusus naturæ, 23
—— exhibited in Holland in 1633, 24
—— mentioned by Horace at Rome ib.
WHITE, GILBERT, of Selborne, on the affection of animals to the young
of others, 46 _n._
White oxen worshipped in Egypt, 23
WILKINSON, Sir GARDNER, on the knowledge of the elephant in ancient
Egypt, 152 _n._
WOLF, his strange adventures in Ceylon, 31 _n._, 48, 105 _n._
—— on the capture of wild elephants, 96 _n._
—— on the height of the elephant, 31
Wolves suckling children, 46 _n._
Wound of Lieut. Fretz, 90
WRIGHT’S _Reliquiæ Antiquæ_, 36
YOUNG, affection for, 47
Young elephants, their conduct when captured, 137
—— their tricks in captivity, 138, 148
YULE, Colonel, on the liability of the elephant to sudden death,
160 _n._
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HOMES WITHOUT HANDS:
BEING A
DESCRIPTION OF THE HABITATIONS OF ANIMALS,
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‘_Homes Without Hands_ is more interesting than a fairy tale,
and shews how highly endowed are the inferior races, which
from the very first produced in perfection works to which the
nobler intellect of man could attain only after the discipline
and experience of centuries. There is scarcely an invention
of man of which the prototype may not be discovered in the
great patent office of Nature, nor a mechanical contrivance in
which he has not been anticipated by the insects and animals
which he is in the habit of regarding with contempt, if not
with loathing. The invention of paper was a new era in human
history, but wasps made veritable paper and papier-mâché from
the beginning of the world. Mankind waited through thousands
of years for Professor WHEATSTONE to invent the electric
telegraph, but the Arachnidæ had their lines in operation on
the morning when ADAM first opened his eyes upon the world.
The beaver was from the beginning conversant with the strength
and virtues of the arch; the burrowing spider made use of
the poppet valve; and as for the bearings of timbers and the
strength of materials, birds, beasts, and insects were well
acquainted with them thousands of years before VITRUVIUS or
TREDGOLD or FAIRBAIRN was born. The Author, in a fascinating
style and with a profusion of elegant engravings, illustrates
instinctive art in all its departments, from the labours of
the smallest insect up to those of the largest animal which
builds itself a dwelling. To enumerate the wonders contained
in the book we should be compelled to write an abstract of its
contents, for each page contains something that will interest
and delight the reader. It is a work calculated to bring
pleasures of the most rational and elevating kind into many
a school-room and many a family circle during the Christmas
season; and certainly it would be impossible to recommend a
more suitable book for a present to a young person.’
DAILY NEWS.
POPULAR WORKS BY DR. GEORGE HARTWIG.
Just published, with 8 full-page Engravings on Wood, from Original
Designs by F. W. Keyl, and about 200 Woodcuts in the Text, in One
Volume, 8vo. price 18_s._
THE HARMONIES OF NATURE;
OR, THE UNITY OF CREATION.
BY DR. GEORGE HARTWIG.
‘DR. HARTWIG has produced another delightful and instructive
volume, in which he illustrates the wonders of wisdom and
knowledge with which creation teems. The opening chapters
are devoted to a recapitulation of some of the magnificent
and astonishing phænomena which are observed in the heavens,
air, and sea, by way of developing the harmony which is
the universal law of nature. But throughout the greater
part of the work the Author confines himself to the domains
of vegetable and animal life; and here he accumulates a
surprising number of evidences of design, adaptation of
power, and inexhaustible resource. The work exhibits a very
unusual and most felicitous combination of accurate and
varied erudition with clear and popular writing. It is a true
instructor; for both the descriptions and the woodcuts with
which they are accompanied are scientifically correct, while
the narration is full of almost romantic interest. Each page
has some new wonder to enchant the youthful reader and excite
the reverent admiration of the thoughtful.... The reverence
and piety of Dr. HARTWIG’S works are a great recommendation
in days when scientific men seem to think their first duty in
speaking or writing is to avoid every word that could possibly
suggest the idea of a personal Deity and intelligent Creator.’
PATRIOT.
_Works by the same Author._
The TROPICAL WORLD: a Popular Scientific Account of the
Natural History of the Animal and Vegetable Kingdom in the
Equatorial Regions. With 8 Chromoxylographic Plates and
numerous Woodcuts. 8vo. 21_s._
The SEA and its LIVING WONDERS. With several hundred Woodcuts
in the Text, and a Series of Chromoxylographic Plates from
Original Designs by H. N. Humphreys. Third English Copyright
Edition. 8vo. 18_s._
‘This is the third edition, considerably enlarged, of the
first and best of Dr. HARTWIG’S beautiful and popular volumes
on natural history. The size of the book is increased by a
hundred pages; a good deal of it is remoulded; two whole new
chapters have been added, one on Marine Caves, the other on
Marine Constructions, such as Lighthouses and Breakwaters;
some of the old illustrations have disappeared, but their
place has been supplied by more and better; so that the new
edition really amounts to a recasting of the entire book. It
was a very good book before; it is better and more complete
now. Whether we regard the letterpress or the numerous
illustrations, it takes a rank second to none among ornamental
and popular books of science.’
GUARDIAN.
London: LONGMANS, GREEN, and CO. Paternoster Row.
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