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.