The ivory king

While the elephant of Ceylon does not differ specifically from its cousins of Continental India, there are certain facts of interest about it that would seem to warrant special attention. In 1847, according to Tennent, they were found over nearly the entire island, with the exception of a narrow but densely inhabited belt of cultivated land that extends along the seaboard from Chilaw on the Western coast to Tangalle on the south-east: this is, to some extent, true to-day, their great tracks being found in forests and plains where the surroundings are adapted to their requirements. There has, however, been a noticeable diminution of their numbers in certain localities.

Thus, Le Brun, who visited Ceylon in 1705, says that then they were very abundant in the country about Colombo, and that he had seen one hundred and sixty at a time in a corral. It is also known, that, in olden times, it was necessary in some localities to keep fires burning at night, in order to keep them away from the rice-fields. The opening up of the country, and the clearing off of the mountain forests of Kandy by coffee-planters, has also restricted their range; while sportsmen and others have greatly reduced their numbers.

From the date of the first Punic war, the natives have been aware of their value, and have captured them to send to India for various purposes,—formerly for use in war, and to-day as laborers in the great lumber-yards, and in other positions where great strength is required.

The number of elephants exported from Ceylon between the years 1863 and 1876 was sixteen hundred and fifty-seven, a showing that has no comparison with Africa. The Ceylon elephants are remarkable for the absence of tusks. So marked is this, a Ceylon elephant with these sexual weapons is something of a curiosity, not one in a hundred having them, and then only the males being the fortunate possessors. They are not totally unarmed; as nearly all have stunted tusks, generally about a foot in length, and two inches in diameter. With these they loosen earth, strip the bark from trees, and tear down climbing-plants. That the tusks are in general use, is shown by the fact that nearly all have a groove worn in the extremities.

Many ingenious theories have been advanced to explain this lack of development. The most feasible explanation would seem to be, that, in Ceylon, the elephants had less use for weapons of defence than on the main-land.

The Ceylon elephant leads a quiet, pastoral life compared to its ally of Africa, who, if not attacked, is menaced by rhinoceros and lion; while the tiger, though not the master of the Asiatic elephant, infuses it with a wholesome dread, and will attack it if the true king of beasts is at a disadvantage.

In the chapter on Continental Asiatic Elephants, the distinguishing points of elephants are given. In Ceylon, they differ again; and in a Singhalese work, the “Hastisilpe,” which treats of the management of these animals, the author says an inferior elephant (one that corresponds probably to the Meerga caste) has “eyes restless like those of a crow, the hair of the head mixed shades, the nails short and green, the ears small, the neck thin, the skin freckled, the tail without a tuft, and the fore-quarters lean and low.” The perfect type, corresponding to the Koomeriah grade of India, is characterized by “softness of the skin, the red color of the mouth and tongue, the forehead expanded and hollow, the ears broad and rectangular, the trunk broad at the root, and blotched with pink in front, the eyes bright and kindly, the cheeks large, the neck full, the back level, the chest square, the fore-legs short, and convex in front, the hindquarter plump, and five nails on each foot, all smooth, polished, and round.” An elephant with these perfections, says the same author, “will impart glory and magnificence to the king: but he cannot be discovered among thousands; yea, there shall never be found an elephant clothed at once with all the excellences here described.”

The noises which Ceylon elephants utter, while undoubtedly identical with those of India and Bengal, seem to have a rather different meaning imputed to them. The shrill cry uttered through the trunk is indicative of rage, and is generally given when the animal is rushing upon its adversary. When the attention of an individual elephant of a herd is attracted by any unusual object, the intelligence is conveyed to the others by a low, suppressed sound, uttered by the lips, and compared by hunters to the word “prut,” or the twittering of a bird. Major Macready, military secretary of Ceylon, describes a sound that he heard made by a wild elephant as “a sort of a banging noise, like a cooper hammering a cask,” produced, he believes, by the animal striking its sides rapidly with its trunk. It may have been made, as has been previously described, by striking the tip of the trunk against the ground.

In size the Ceylon elephants average about the same as the continental animals, about nine feet. Wolf, a chaplain, who resided in Ceylon many years, states that he saw one that was taken near Jaffna which was twelve feet in height. Perhaps this animal was measured by throwing a rope over its back, and accepting one-half as the height, which would be at least twelve inches in excess of what it should be. The herds in Ceylon are generally families, and, as a rule, greatly resemble each other. The most powerful tusker is the leader, though a strong-minded female is often implicitly obeyed. Tennent considers that a herd recognizes the tusker-in-chief as a leader, and will support him in danger. He cites an instance where a tusker was wounded, and the rest of the herd crowded about him, covering his retreat to the forest. I am inclined to think, however, that the observers misinterpreted the actions of the herd, and that the tusker’s presence in the centre was accidental, or the result of his superior strength.

That elephants have a method of communication, no one can doubt. An interesting instance of this was reported to Sir Emerson Tennent by Major Skinner of the British army, who spent many years in the jungle, and was a competent and intelligent observer. He says, “The case you refer to struck me as exhibiting something more than ordinary brute instinct, and approached nearer to reasoning powers than any other instance I can now remember. I cannot do justice to the scene; although it appeared to me at the time to be so remarkable, that it left a deep impression in my mind. In the dry season in Nenera-Kalawa, you know the streams are all dried up, and the tanks nearly so. All animals are then sorely pressed for water; and they congregate in the vicinity of those tanks, in which there may remain ever so little of the precious element. During one of these seasons, I was encamped on the bund, or embankment, of a very small tank, the water in which was so dried that its surface could not have exceeded five hundred square yards. It was the only pond within many miles, and I knew that of necessity a very large herd of elephants which had been in the neighborhood all day must resort to it at night. On the lower side of the tank, and on a line with the embankment, was a thick forest, in which the elephants sheltered themselves during the day. On the upper side, and all about the tank, there was considerable margin of open ground. It was one of those beautiful, bright, clear, moonlight nights, when objects could be seen almost as distinctly as by day; and I determined to avail myself of the opportunity to observe the movements of the herd, which had already manifested some uneasiness at our presence. The locality was very favorable for my purpose, and an enormous tree projecting over the tank afforded me a secure lodgement in its branches. Having ordered the fires of my camp to be extinguished at an early hour, and all my followers to retire to rest, I took up my post of observation on the overhanging bough; but I had to remain for upwards of two hours before any thing was to be seen or heard of the elephants, although I knew they were within five hundred yards of me. At length, about the distance of three hundred feet from the water, an immensely large elephant issued from the dense cover, and advanced cautiously across the open ground to within one hundred yards of the tank, where he stood perfectly motionless. So quiet had the elephants become, although they had been roaring, and beating the jungle, throughout the day and evening, that not a movement was now heard.

“The huge vidette remained in his position still as a rock for a few moments, and then made three successive stealthy advances of several yards (halting for some minutes between each, with ears bent forward to catch the slightest sound); and, in this way, he moved slowly up to the water’s edge. Still, he did not venture to quench his thirst; for, though his fore-feet were partially in the water, he remained for some minutes, listening in perfect silence. He returned cautiously and slowly to the position he had at first taken upon emerging from the forest. Here, in a little while, he was joined by five others; with them he again proceeded, as cautiously, but less slowly, to within a few yards of the tank, and then posted his patrols. He then re-entered the forest, and collected around him the whole herd, between eighty and one hundred, led them across the open ground with the most extraordinary composure and quietness till he joined the advance-guard, when he left them for a moment, and repeated his former reconnaissance at the edge of the tank. Having apparently satisfied himself that all was safe, he returned, and obviously gave the order to advance; for in a moment the whole herd rushed into the water with a degree of unreserved confidence so opposite to the caution and timidity which had marked their previous movements, that nothing will ever persuade me that there was not rational and preconcerted co-operation throughout the whole party, and a degree of responsible authority exercised by the patriarch leader.”

The caution exhibited by the elephants here mentioned is characteristic of these animals; and so suspicious are they, that a fence of the simplest kind is often sufficient to prevent their inroads. Near Anarájapoora, there was formerly a pond, in which elephants drank; and near by, enclosed in a very frail fence, was some vegetation growing, especially attractive to the elephant; yet the latter was a complete protection to it.

From caution or curiosity, elephants often pull up the tracing-pegs put down by surveyors; and this has also been noticed in the continental elephants.

Some of the bravest elephant-hunters are found in Ceylon. They follow the animal as a profession, and are called panickeas, and live in the Moorish villages in the northern and north-eastern part of the island. Their remarkable skill in following the huge game calls to mind that of the Indians of our own continent. Frequently two panickeas will chase an elephant, and capture it single-handed. Their method is to keep to the leeward of the animal, and creep upon it when feeding, and fasten a slip-noose about the leg, that is often lifted, or kept in motion. This accomplished, the elephant turns, and endeavors to break away; but the rope is secured to a tree, and the monster is caught. A man now rushes in front, and shouts the monosyllable, “Dah! dah!” that seems to have some irritating effect. This attracts attention from the other man, who now throws a noose about the other leg; and soon the elephant is completely in the toils. A covering is then built over it, a camp formed, and the initiatory training performance commenced.

The animals are generally trained, however, by Arabs, and go to the rájahs and native princes in India, whose agents were formerly, and to some extent at present, sent to Ceylon for the purpose.

So brave are these men, that they seem to have absolutely no fear of the elephant; and, if the white hunter is known to them as a good shot, they will go up to an elephant, and slap him on the leg to make him turn, and present to their employer a vulnerable spot.

Most of the captured elephants of Ceylon are taken to Manaar: that is an important elephant depot, from which they are bought, and shipped to India. Arabs resort here, buying horses to exchange for elephants, and to trade in them in many ways.

Elephants have been captured by the herd in Ceylon from very early times; the process, as late as 1847, differing but little from that employed in India to-day. The animals were driven into a corral, and often two thousand men were employed in the hunt. Formerly the natives were forced to join in the hunt; but, in later years, they have been only too willing, as the elephants destroy their crops. The priests also encourage the hunters, as the elephants devour the sacred Bo-trees; and they are also desirous of obtaining the animals for use in the processions of the temples.

In the drive, the men stretch out, and surround the elephants; and, when they are encompassed, fires are built ten paces apart, and kept burning all day and night. Gradually they close in on the victims; and in every direction, except that of the corral, a fusillade of guns is kept up, accompanied by shouts, and beating of drums, until finally the terrified animals rush into the corral, and are caught. When the elephants are entrapped, female elephants with riders enter the corral; and soon the captives are noosed, and tied to trees. Then commence the struggles that often continue for hours; the huge beasts assuming the most seemingly impossible positions,—standing on their heads, twisting their bodies into various shapes, breaking down trees, and venting their rage in a variety of ways,—until, utterly wearied, they lie or stand, and throw dust over their bodies with their trunks, then insert the latter into their mouths, and withdraw enough water to convert it into mud.

The wonderful sagacity, if obedience to the mahouts can be called such, exhibited by the female elephant, is remarkable. They seem to understand just what is required of them,—butting over fractious captives, assisting to tie them, kneeling upon them when they attempt to rise too quickly, holding their trunks when they are directed to the approaching noose, and in every way assisting their drivers, and showing what would generally be considered great intelligence. “The whole scene,” says Sir Emerson Tennent, “exhibits the most marvellous example of the voluntary alliance of animal sagacity and instinct in active co-operations 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 the brute creation, even when confronted with force in its most stupendous embodiment.”

The process of training the elephants is not so difficult as is generally supposed. For a few days, or until they eat freely, they are allowed to rest, a tame elephant being tied near to re-assure them; and, where a large number are being educated, wild ones are placed in stalls between half tame ones, until they take their food regularly. In the first lesson, the head stableman, or “Cooroowe vidahm,” takes his place in front of a wild elephant, bearing a long, sharp, iron-pointed stick. Two other men station themselves on each side, assisted by the tame elephants, and hold their crooks toward the wild elephant’s trunk; while others rub his back soothingly, chanting such epithets as, “Ho! my son,” or, “Ho! my father.” This irritates the animal, who immediately strikes out with his trunk, the men receiving it upon their weapons; and, in a very short time, the elephant learns not to strike at a man.

This lesson having been inculcated, number two is begun, which consists in taking it to bathe between two tame elephants. The feet are tied as closely as possible, and the great beast is made to lie down in the water by pressing its backbone with the crooks. This is extremely painful, and is met by furious protests; but finally the animals learn to kneel at the slightest prick of the sharp weapons, and having once succumbed to the power of man, as shown in a number of ways, rapidly become domesticated. Kind treatment does much toward conciliating them; but, like people, each elephant has its own peculiar disposition.

In two months a wild elephant may be led without a tame companion; and in three months they are generally put to work, at first in treading clay in brick-fields, or harnessed to a wagon with a tame companion, and finally in the lumber-yards, where all their intelligence is brought to play.

The Ceylon elephants attain an age equal to that of the Indian animals. Trained elephants have been kept in use one hundred and forty years; and, according to Tennent, one employed by Mr. Cripps was represented by the Cooroowe people to have served the king of Kandy in the same capacity sixty years before. Among the papers left by Col. Robertson, who held a command in Ceylon in 1799, shortly after the capture of the island by the British, there is a memorandum showing that a decoy (female) was then attached to the elephant establishment at Molura, 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). It was said to have been found in the stables by the Dutch on the expulsion of the Portuguese in 1650.