the skin, and illnesses of many kinds, the elephant is so often
invalided, that the actual cost of his labour, when at work, is very
considerably enhanced. Exclusive of the salaries of higher officers
attached to the government establishments, and other permanent charges,
the expenses of an elephant, looking only to the wages of his attendants
and the cost of his food and medicines, varies from _three shillings to
four shillings and sixpence_, per diem, according to his size and
class.[1] Taking the average at three shillings and nine-pence, and
calculating that hardly any individual works more than four days out of
seven, the charge for each day so employed would amount to _six
shillings and sixpence_. The keep per day of a powerful dray-horse,
working five days in the week, would not exceed half-a-crown, and two
such would unquestionably do more work than any elephant under the
present system. I do not know whether it be from a comparative
calculation of this kind that the strength of the elephant
establishments in Ceylon has been gradually diminished of late years,
but in the department of the Commissioner of Roads, the stud, which
formerly numbered upwards of sixty elephants, was reduced, some years
ago, to thirty-six, and is at present less than half that number.
[Footnote 1: An ordinary-sized elephant engrosses the undivided
attention of _three_ men. One, as his mahout or superintendent, and two
as leaf-cutters, who bring him branches and grass for his daily
supplies. An animal of larger growth would probably require a third
leaf-cutter. The daily consumption is two cwt. of green food with about
half a bushel of grain. When in the vicinity of towns and villages, the
attendants have no difficulty in procuring an abundant supply of the
branches of the trees to which elephants are partial; and in journeys
through the forests and unopened country, the leaf-cutters are
sufficiently expert in the knowledge of those particular plants with
which the elephant is satisfied. Those that would be likely to disagree
with him he unerringly rejects. His favourites are the palms, especially
the cluster of rich, unopened leaves, known as the "cabbage," of the
coco-nut, and areca; and he delights to tear open the young trunks of
the palmyra and jaggery (_Caryota urens_) in search of the farinaceous
matter contained in the spongy pith. Next to these come the varieties of
fig-trees. particularly the sacred _Bo_ (_F. religiosa_) which is found
near every temple, and the _na gaha_ (_Messua ferrea_), with thick dark
leaves and a scarlet flower. The leaves of the Jak-tree and bread-fruit
(_Artocarpus integrifolia_, and _A. incisa_), the Wood apple (_Ægle
Marmelos_), Palu (_Mimusops Indica_), and a number of others well known
to their attendants, are all consumed in turn. The stems of the
plaintain, the stalks of the sugar-cane, and the feathery tops of the
bamboos, are irresistible luxuries. Pine-apples, water-melons, and
fruits of every description, are voraciously devoured, and a coco-nut
when found is first rolled under foot to detach it from the husk and
fibre, and then raised in his trunk and crushed, almost without an
effort, by his ponderous jaws.
The grasses are not found in sufficient quantity to be an item of daily
fodder; the Mauritius or the Guinea grass is seized with avidity; lemon
grass is rejected from its overpowering perfume, but rice in the straw,
and every description of grain, whether growing or dry; gram (_Cicer
arietinum_), Indian Corn, and millet are his natural food. Of such of
these as can be found, it is the duty of the leaf-cutters, when in the
jungle and on march, to provide a daily supply.]
The fallacy of the supposed reluctance of the elephant to breed in
captivity has been demonstrated by many recent authorities; but with the
exception of the birth of young elephants at Rome, as mentioned by
ÆLIAN, the only instances that I am aware of their actually producing
young under such circumstances, took place in Ceylon. Both parents had
been for several years attached to the stud of the Commissioner of
Roads, and in 1844 the female, whilst engaged in dragging a waggon, gave
birth to a still-born calf. Some years before, an elephant that had been
captured by Mr. Cripps, dropped a female calf, which he succeeded in
rearing. As usual, the little one became the pet of the keepers; but as
it increased in growth, it exhibited the utmost violence when thwarted;
striking out with its hind-feet, throwing itself headlong on the ground,
and pressing its trunk against any opposing object.
The duration of life in the elephant has been from the remotest times a
matter of uncertainty and speculation. Aristotle says it was reputed to
live from two to three hundred years[1], and modern zoologists have
assigned to it an age very little less; CUVIER[2] allots two hundred and
DE BLAINVILLE one hundred and twenty. The only attempt which I know of
to establish a period historically or physiologically is that of
FLEURENS, who has advanced an ingenious theory on the subject in his
treatise "_De la Longévité Humaine_." He assumes the sum total of life
in all animals to be equivalent to five times the number of years
requisite to perfect their growth and development;--and he adopts as
evidence of the period at which growth ceases, the final consolidation
of the bones with their _epiphyses_; which in the young consist of
cartilages; but in the adult become uniformly osseous and solid. So long
as the epiphyses are distinct from the bones, the growth of the animal
is proceeding, but it ceases so soon as the consolidation is complete.
In man, according to FLEURENS, this consummation takes place at 20 years
of age, in the horse at 5, in the dog at 2; so that conformably to this
theory the respective normal age for each would be 100 years for man, 25
for the horse, and 10 for a dog. As a datum for his conclusion, FLEURENS
cites the instance of one young elephant in which, at 26 years old, the
epiphyses were still distinct, whereas in another, which died at 31,
they were firm and adherent. Hence he draws the inference that the
period of completed solidification is thirty years, and consequently
that the normal age of the elephant is _one hundred and fifty_.[3]
[Footnote 1: ARISTOTELES _de Anim. l. viii._ c. 9.]
[Footnote 2: _Menag. de Mus. Nat._ p. 107.]
[Footnote 3: FLEURENS, _De la Longévité Humaine_, pp. 82, 89.]
Amongst the Singhalese the ancient fable of the elephant attaining to
the age of two or three hundred years still prevails; but the Europeans,
and those in immediate charge of tame ones, entertain the opinion that
the duration of life for about _seventy_ years is common both to man and
the elephant; and that before the arrival of the latter period, symptoms
of debility and decay ordinarily begin to manifest themselves. Still
instances are not wanting in Ceylon of trained decoys that have lived
for more than double the reputed period in actual servitude. One
employed by Mr. Cripps in the Seven Korles was represented by the
Cooroowe people to have served the king of Kandy in the same capacity
sixty years before; and amongst the papers left by Colonel Robertson
(son to the historian of "Charles V."), who held a command in Ceylon in
1799, shortly after the capture of the island by the British, I have
found a memorandum showing that a decoy was then attached to the
elephant establishment at Matura, which the records proved to have
served under the Dutch during the entire period of their occupation
(extending to upwards of one hundred and forty years); and it was said
to have been found in the stables by the Dutch on the expulsion of the
Portugese in 1656.
It is perhaps from this popular belief in their almost illimitable age,
that the natives generally assert that the body of a dead elephant is
seldom or never to be discovered in the woods. And certain it is that
frequenters of the forest with whom I have conversed, whether European
or Singhalese, are consistent in their assurances that they have never
found the remains of an elephant that had died a natural death. One
chief, the Wannyah of the Trincomalie district, told a friend of mine,
that once after a severe murrain, which had swept the province, he found
the carcases of elephants that had died of the disease. On the other
hand, a European gentleman, who for thirty-six years without
intermission has been living in the jungle, ascending to the summits of
mountains in the prosecution of the trigonometrical survey, and
penetrating valleys in tracing roads and opening means of
communication,--one, too, who has made the habits of the wild elephant a
subject of constant observation and study,--has often expressed to me
his astonishment that after seeing many thousands of living elephants in
all possible situations, he had never yet found a single skeleton of a
dead one, except of those which had fallen by the rifle.[1]
[Footnote 1: This remark regarding the elephant of Ceylon does not
appear to extend to that of Africa, as I observe that BEAVER, in his
_African Memoranda,_ says that "the skeletons of old ones that have died
in the woods are frequently found."--_African Memoranda relative to an
attempt to establish British Settlements at the Island of Bulama_. Lond.
1815, p. 353.]
It has been suggested that the bones of the elephant, may be so porous
and spongy as to disappear in consequence of an early decomposition; but
this remark would not apply to the grinders or to the tusks; besides
which, the inference is at variance with the fact, that not only the
horns and teeth, but entire skeletons of deer, are frequently found in
the districts inhabited by the elephant.
The natives, to account for this popular belief, declare that the
survivors of the herd bury such of their companions as die a natural
death.[1] It is curious that this belief was current also amongst the
Greeks of the Lower Empire; and PHILE, writing early in the fourteenth
century, not only describes the younger elephants as tending the
wounded, but as burying the dead:
[Greek: "Otan d' epistê tês teleutês o chronos Koinou telous amunan o
xenos pherei]."[2]
[Footnote 1: A corral was organised near Putlam in 1846, by Mr. Morris,
the chief officer of the district. It was constructed across one of the
paths which the elephants frequent in their frequent marches, and during
the course of the proceedings two of the captured elephants died. Their
carcases were left of course within the enclosure, which was abandoned
as soon as the capture was complete. The wild elephants resumed their
path through it, and a few days afterwards the headman reported to Mr.
Morris that the bodies had been removed and carried outside the corral
to a spot to which nothing but the elephants could have borne them.]
[Footnote 2: PHILE, _Expositio de Eleph._ l. 243.]
The Singhalese have a further superstition in relation to the close of
life in the elephant: they believe that, on feeling the approach of
dissolution, he repairs to a solitary valley, and there resigns himself
to death. A native who accompanied Mr. Cripps, when hunting, in the
forests of Anarajapoora, intimated to him that he was then in the
immediate vicinity of the spot "_to which the elephants come to die_,"
but that it was so mysteriously concealed, that although every one
believed in its existence, no one had ever succeeded in penetrating to
it. At the corral which I have described at Kornegalle, in 1847,
Dehigame, one of the Kandyan chiefs, assured me it was the universal
belief of his countrymen, that the elephants, when about to die,
resorted to a valley in Saffragam, among the mountains to the east of
Adam's Peak, which was reached by a narrow pass with walls of rock on
either side, and that there, by the side of a lake of clear water, they
took their last repose.[1] It was not without interest that I afterwards
recognised this tradition in the story of _Sinbad of the Sea_, who in
his Seventh Voyage, after conveying the presents of Haroun al Raschid to
the king of Serendib, is wrecked on his return from Ceylon, and sold as
a slave to a master who employs him in shooting elephants for the sake
of their ivory; till one day the tree on which he was stationed having
been uprooted by one of the herd, he fell senseless to the ground, and
the great elephant approaching wound his trunk around him and carried
him away, ceasing not to proceed, until he had taken him to a place
where, his terror having subsided, _he found himself amongst the bones
of elephants, and knew that this was their burial place_.[2] It is
curious to find this legend of Ceylon in what has, not inaptly, been
described as the "Arabian Odyssey" of Sinbad; the original of which
evidently embodies the romantic recitals of the sailors returning from
the navigation of the Indian Seas, in the middle ages[3], which were
current amongst the Mussulmans, and are reproduced in various forms
throughout the tales of the _Arabian Nights_.
[Footnote 1: The selection by animals of a _place to die_, is not
confined to the elephant, DARWIN says, that in South America "the
guanacos (llamas) appear to have favourite spots for lying down to die;
on the banks of the Santa Cruz river, in certain circumscribed spaces
which were generally bushy and all near the water, the ground was
actually white with their bones; on one such spot I counted between ten
and twenty heads."--_Nat. Voy._ ch. viii. The same has been remarked in
the Rio Gallegos; and at St. Jago in the Cape de Verde Islands, DARWIN
saw a retired corner similarly covered with the bones of the goat, as if
it were "the burial-ground of all the goats in the island."]
[Footnote 2: _Arabian Nights' Entertainment_, LANE'S edition, vol. iii.
p. 77.]
[Footnote 3: See a disquisition on the origin of the story of Sinbad, by
M. REINAUD, in the introduction prefixed to his translation of the
_Arabian Geography of Aboulfeda_, vol. i. p. lxxvi.]
* * * * *
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VII.
* * * * *
As Ælian's work on the _Nature of Animals_ has never, I believe, been
republished in any English version, and the passage in relation to the
training and performance of elephants is so pertinent to the present
inquiry, I venture to subjoin a translation of the 11th Chapter of his
2nd Book.
"Of the cleverness of the elephant I have spoken elsewhere, and likewise
of the manner of hunting. I have mentioned these things, a few out of
the many which others have stated; but for the present I purpose to
speak of their musical feeling, their tractability, and facility in
learning what it is difficult for even a human being to acquire, much
less a beast, hitherto so wild:--such as to dance, as is done on the
stage; to walk with a measured gait; to listen to the melody of the
flute and to perceive the difference of sounds, that, being pitched low
lead to a slow movement, or high to a quick one: all this the elephant
learns and understands, and is accurate withal, and makes no mistake.
Thus has Nature formed him not only the greatest in size, but the most
gentle and the most easily taught. Now if I were going to write about
the tractability and aptitude to learn amongst those of India, Æthiopia,
and Libya, I should probably appear to be concocting a tale and acting
the braggart, or to be telling a falsehood respecting the nature of the
animal founded on a mere report, all which it behoves a philosopher, and
most of all one who is an ardent lover of truth, not to do. But what I
have seen myself, and what others have described as having occurred at
Rome, this I have chosen to relate, selecting a few facts out of many,
to show the particular nature of those creatures. The elephant when
tamed is an animal most gentle and most easily led to do whatever he is
directed. And by way of showing honour to time, I will first narrate
events of the oldest date. Cæsar Germanicus, the nephew of Tiberius,
exhibited once a public show, wherein there were many full-grown
elephants, male and female, and some of their breed born in this
country. When their limbs were beginning to become firm, a person
familiar with such animals instructed them by a strange and surpassing
method of teaching; using only gentleness and kindness, and adding to
his mild lessons the bait of pleasant and varied food. By this means he
led them by degrees to throw off all wildness, and, as it were, to
desert to a state of civilisation, conducting themselves in a manner
almost human. He taught them neither to be excited on hearing the pipe,
nor to be disturbed by the beat of drum, but to be soothed by the sounds
of the reed, and to endure unmusical noises and the clatter of feet from
persons while marching; and they were trained to feel no fear of a mass
of men, nor to be enraged at the infliction of blows, not even when
compelled to twist their limbs and to bend them like a stage-dancer, and
this too although endowed with strength and might. And there is in this
a very noble addition to nature, not to conduct themselves in a
disorderly manner and disobediently towards the instructions of man; for
after the dancing-master had made them expert, and they had learnt their
lessons accurately, they did not belie the labour of his instruction
whenever a necessity and opportunity called upon them to exhibit what
they had been taught. For the whole troop came forward from this and
that side of the theatre, and divided themselves into parties: they
advanced walking with a mincing gait and exhibiting in their whole body
and persons the manners of a beau, clothed in the flowery dresses of
dancers; and on the ballet-master giving a signal with his voice, they
fell into line and went round in a circle, and if it were requisite to
deploy they did so. They ornamented the floor of the stage by throwing
flowers upon it, and this they did in moderation and sparingly, and
straightway they beat a measure with their feet and kept time together.
"Now that Damon and Spintharus and Aristoxenus and Xenophilus and
Philoxenus and others should know music excellently well, and for their
cleverness be ranked amongst the few, is indeed a thing of wonder, but
not incredible nor contrary at all to reason. For this reason that a man
is a rational animal, and the recipient of mind and intelligence. But
that a jointless animal ([Greek: anarthron]) should understand rhythm
and melody, and preserve a gesture, and not deviate from a measured
movement, and fulfil the requirements of those who laid down
instructions, these are gifts of nature, I think, and a peculiarity in
every way astounding. Added to these there were things enough to drive
the spectator out of his senses; when the strewn rushes and other
materials for beds on the ground were placed on the sand of the theatre,
and they received stuffed mattrasses such as belonged to rich houses and
variegated bed coverings, and goblets were placed there, very expensive,
and bowls of gold and silver, and in them a great quantity of water; and
tables were placed there of sweet-smelling wood and ivory very superb:
and upon them flesh meats and loaves enough to fill the stomachs of
animals the most voracious. When the preparations were completed and
abundant, the banqueters came forward, six male and an equal number of
female elephants; the former had on a male dress, and the latter a
female; and on a signal being given they stretched forward their trunks
in a subdued manner, and took their food in great moderation, and not
one of them appeared to be gluttonous greedy, or to snatch at a greater
portion, as did the Persian mentioned by Xenophon. And when it was
requisite to drink, a bowl was placed by the side of each; and inhaling
with their trunks they took a draught very orderly; and then they
scattered the drink about in fun; but not as in insult. Many other acts
of a similar kind, both clever and astonishing, have persons described,
relating to the peculiarities of these animals, and I saw them writing
letters on Roman tablets with their trunks, neither looking awry nor
turning aside. The hand, however, of the teacher was placed so as to be
a guide in the formation of the letters; and while it was writing the
animal kept its eye fixed down in an accomplished and scholarlike
manner."
CHAP. VIII.
BIRDS.
Of the _Birds_ of the island, upwards of three hundred and twenty
species have been indicated, for which we are indebted to the
persevering labours of Dr. Templeton, Dr. Kelaart, and Mr. Layard; but
many yet remain to be identified. In fact, to the eye of a stranger,
their prodigious numbers, and especially the myriads of waterfowl which,
notwithstanding the presence of the crocodiles, people the lakes and
marshes in the eastern provinces, form one of the marvels of Ceylon.
In the glory of their plumage, the birds of the interior are surpassed
by those of South America and Northern India; and the melody of their
song bears no comparison with that of the warblers of Europe, but the
want of brilliancy is compensated by their singular grace of form, and
the absence of prolonged and modulated harmony by the rich and melodious
tones of their clear and musical calls. In the elevations of the Kandyan
country there are a few, such as the robin of Neuera-ellia[1] and the
long-tailed thrush[2], whose song rivals that of their European
namesakes; but, far beyond the attraction of their notes, the traveller
rejoices in the flute-like voices of the Oriole, the Dayal-bird[3], and
some others equally charming; when at the first dawn of day, they wake
the forest with their clear _réveil_.
[Footnote 1: Pratincola atrata, _Kelaart_.]
[Footnote 2: Kittacincla macrura, _Gm_.]
[Footnote 3: Copsychussaularis, _Linn._. Called by the Europeans in
Ceylon the "Magpie Robin." This is not to be confounded with the other
popular favourite the "Indian Robin" (Thamnobia fulicata, _Linn._),
which is "never seen in the unfrequented jungle, but, like the coco-nut
palm, which the Singhalese assert will only flourish within the sound of
the human voice, it is always found near the habitations of men."--E.L.
LAYARD.]
It is only on emerging from the dense woods and coming into the vicinity
of the lakes and pasture of the low country, that birds become visible
in great quantities. In the close jungle one occasionally hears the call
of the copper-smith[1], or the strokes of the great orange-coloured
woodpecker[2] as it beats the decaying trees in search of insects,
whilst clinging to the bark with its finely-pointed claws, and leaning
for support upon the short stiff feathers of its tail. And on the lofty
branches of the higher trees, the hornbill[3] (the toucan of the East),
with its enormous double casque, sits to watch the motions of the tiny
reptiles and smaller birds on which it preys, tossing them into the air
when seized, and catching them in its gigantic mandibles as they
fall.[4] The remarkable excrescence on the beak of this extraordinary
bird may serve to explain the statement of the Minorite friar Odoric, of
Portenau in Friuli, who travelled in Ceylon in the fourteenth century,
and brought suspicion on the veracity of his narrative by asserting that
he had there seen "_birds with two heads_."[5]
[Footnote 1: The greater red-headed Barbet (Megalaima indica, _Lath_.;
M. Philippensis, _var. A. Lath_.), the incessant din of which resembles
the blows of a smith hammering a cauldron.]
[Footnote 2: Brachypternus aurantius, _Linn._]
[Footnote 3: Buceros pica, _Scop_.; B. Malaharicus, _Jerd_. The natives
assert that B. pica builds in holes in the trees, and that when
incubation has fairly commenced, the female takes her seat on the eggs,
and the male closes up the orifice by which she entered, leaving only a
small aperture through which he feeds his partner, whilst she
successfully guards their treasures from the monkey tribes; her
formidable bill nearly filling the entire entrance. See a paper by Edgar
L. Layard, Esq. _Mag. Nat. Hist._ March, 1853. Dr. Horsfield had
previously observed the same habit in a species of Buceros in Java. (See
HORSFIELD and MOORE'S _Catal. Birds_, E.I. Comp. Mus. vol. ii.) It is
curious that a similar trait, though necessarily from very different
instincts, is exhibited by the termites, who literally build a cell
round the great progenitrix of the community, and feed her through
apertures.]