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The ivory king

Chapter 16: CHAPTER XV. TRICK ELEPHANTS.
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About This Book

A popular natural history and cultural survey of elephants and their extinct relatives, combining anatomy, behavior, intelligence, and fossil discussion with vivid accounts of capture, training, and use in labor, pageantry, and warfare. It traces the species' habits, social life, and variations between African and Asian forms, recounts mammoths and mastodons, and treats human relationships from elephant-catching and captivity to hunting, rogue individuals, and celebrated specimens. Economic topics such as ivory production and conservation concerns are examined, and practical chapters on baby and trick elephants are balanced by an illustrated bibliography and historical examples.

CHAPTER XV.
TRICK ELEPHANTS.

The readiness of the elephant to familiarize itself with various tricks has been recognized from very early times, and the list of accomplishments which these unwieldy creatures have acquired is a long and interesting one. To the circus of the present day, the elephant is invaluable. People tire of the old jokes of the clown, and of the time-worn bare-back riding, but the elephant possesses a peculiar fascination; and, the more it is observed, the more there is to admire. This was, I think, particularly true of Jumbo, who, though he had no tricks to display, was a never-failing source of interest. I remember on one occasion, when afforded an opportunity of entering his stable alone, I stood for a long time noting the monotonous, pendulum-like movement of the enormous head and trunk as it swayed from side to side; and so huge did he appear, and withal so wonderful, such a giant of flesh and bone, that I could have extended my visit a long time without becoming wearied with its monotony. I think this is true to a great extent with all elephants. They are so wonderful and stupendous, that they do not wear upon the public patience.

The education of the elephant is quite an important matter; and in nearly all the large herds, like Barnum’s, there are what might be called elephant schools, where the elephants are not only taught, but kept in practice. Kindness is a feature of this education; but fear is the motive, after all, on the part of the elephant; and were it not for the dread which the hook of the trainer inspires, there would be little discipline maintained.

The trainer of the Barnum herd informed me that he had often seen elephants, especially young ones, practising their lessons out of school. On one occasion he looked through a crevice into the pen of the elephants who were fastened up for the night, and there was one trying to stand on its head. While he watched, it made the attempt several times, just as if he had been standing by, and finally succeeded. Some of my young readers may possibly think that this is a remarkable evidence of intelligence, but I am inclined to think that it was merely the result of the force of daily habit.

As long ago as the time of Pliny, elephants were observed studying their lessons, if so we may term it. This ancient author tells us that an elephant, having been punished for his inaptitude in executing some feat which he was required to learn, was observed at night endeavoring to practise what he had vainly attempted during the day; and Plutarch confirms this by mentioning an elephant who practised his theatrical attitudes, alone, by moonlight.

The elephants of to-day are trained to march like soldiers, to wheel and counter-march at command, to salute their superior by throwing up the trunk and whistling loudly, to build pyramids and climb upon eminences; and one small elephant has been taught to walk upon a rope,—a very broad and flat one. Elephants upon the see-saw, upon a rolling ball, elephants upon their hind-legs, and dancing elephants,—all are familiar to the circus-goer; and to show to what perfection the art of animal-training has attained, quite recently two small Indian elephants, which were erroneously advertised as mammoths in New York, from the fact that they had some hair upon their heads and bodies, were educated to do some comical tricks, one of which was to ride a tricycle, in which position they presented a most ludicrous appearance. (See Plate XVI.)

Perhaps the most remarkable exhibition is that afforded by the little elephant, Tom Thumb, of the Barnum circus, the one who was in the accident which killed Jumbo. This elephant comes walking upon his hind-legs upon a mimic stage, with an alleged German, and both take seats at a table; the elephant being dressed in hat, coat, and trousers. The clown elephant now takes a bell in its trunk, and rings it; a waiter coming in and taking the order, which is evidently for some intoxicant. When he returns with a bottle and two glasses, the elephant seizes the former while his companion is not looking, and drinks the contents. This act is repeated a number of times, the elephant ringing the bell and ordering another bottle before the German discovers the fraud. Then the elephant appears to be overcome with the wine, and, taking a fan in its trunk, uses it vigorously. In all its movements the curious animal acts exactly as if it understood all that was going on, and fully appreciated the sport.

It is not often that an elephant is employed as a witness in court, but such an instance occurred in Cleveland some time ago. The famous trick elephant Pickaninny had been exhibited there; and, as some discussion had been raised as to its speed, a test was given, the trainer affirming that the elephant could travel three miles in thirty minutes. It accomplished a mile in eight minutes and the officers of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals very properly interfered and arrested the driver charging him with having prodded the animal with an iron until the blood came.

The next day the parties appeared in court, and the trainer subpœned his elephant in his defence. As the animal could not squeeze up the stairs to the police court, the latter was held in the corridor below. When asked if he had been injured, Pickaninny moved his head negatively; and when the inquiry was made if he was treated well, he bobbed his head up and down, and grunted his assent in a very decided manner. It is unnecessary to say that his trainer was not far off during this performance; and as examination failed to show any wounds, the man was discharged, and the elephant complimented upon his success by being presented with loaves of bread, fruit, and other delicacies.

The elephant has figured in the circus of England for at least two hundred and fifty years; and in 1681 a fine specimen was accidentally destroyed by fire in Dublin. The exhibition price had been so high that comparatively few persons had seen it; and at the time of the fire, the poorer classes hunted for pieces of the flesh as relics, which shows what a novel spectacle an elephant must have been at this time.

Among the first trained elephants exhibited in Europe, was a fine Asiatic animal, employed at the Adelphi Theatre, London. It took part in an Eastern play, and evoked much applause by marching in a procession, kneeling before the king, and saluting the true prince without apparent orders.

One of the first elephants seen in London was kept in the Tower of London in the seventeenth century, and was a gift to Henry III. from Louis IX. of France. It was probably obtained from Africa when the French king invaded that country. The order relating to this elephant is still extant among the old archives, and reads thus: “We command you, that, of the farm of our city, ye cause, without delay, to be built at our Tower of London, one house of forty feet long, and twenty feet deep, for our elephant.”

It was evidently quite the custom among monarchs to send elephants to one another. Emmanuel of Portugal sent a fine one to Pope Leo X. and Cardan describes one that he saw in the sixteenth century, at the court of the Queen of Bohemia, the daughter of Charles the Fifth. As early as 802, Haroun-al-Raschid, caliph of the Saracens, sent one to Charlemagne.

The elephants of Germanicus were trained to perform many remarkable feats, as hurling javelins into the air with their trunks, and catching them. Pliny says that these elephants danced upon a rope, and their steps were so practised and certain, that four of them walked upon the rope, bearing a litter, which contained one of their companions who feigned to be sick. This would seem an exaggeration, but an elephant upon the tight-rope has been seen in this country; and ancient writers agree with Pliny that the elephants exhibited at ancient Rome could not only walk upon the rope, but retreat backwards without falling off. This performance, wonderful as it appears, is credited by nearly all the old writers. Seneca describes an elephant, who, at the command of its keeper, would bow its head, kneel, and walk upon a rope. Of course, it is impossible for an elephant to walk upon a slack rope; and those alluded to were probably of very large size, perhaps flat upon the sides, and stretched to the greatest tension, and placed near the ground.

It is evident, however, that, in some cases, the rope was high above the spectators; as one writer mentions an elephant exhibited in the presence of the Emperor Galba, which ascended to the roof of the circus, on a rope stretched in an incline, and came back in safety, bearing a man upon its back.

This performance is extremely wonderful when we remember the natural timidity of the animal, and the almost impossibility of forcing it upon a structure that is in the least unstable or frail. When elephants are marched over a bridge, they exercise the greatest caution, often trying the boards before taking the step, and displaying much sagacity.

We have seen the elephant of to-day fire a gun, play upon the hand-organ, or ring a bell: and Arrian mentions seeing an elephant who played upon the cymbals, having one attached to each knee, and bearing the third in its proboscis; thus beating a measure with great exactness, while other elephants danced about him. Busbec, ambassador from Germany to Constantinople in 1555, saw an elephant which he describes as an extremely graceful dancer and ball-player, throwing the ball, and catching it, as easily as could a man with his hands.

It is a common thing for parrots to be taught to scream out the name of prominent people, and elephants have been trained to perform a somewhat similar trick. Thus, an elephant saluted Domitian when he passed; and when the elephant presented by Emmanuel of Portugal saw Leo X., to whom he was sent as a gift, it fell upon its knees, and made a profound obeisance.

By far the best-trained elephant which was ever exhibited in London, was owned by the Duke of Devonshire, who obtained the animal in a curious manner. On being asked by a lady en route for India, what she should bring him, he replied jokingly, “Ah! nothing less than an elephant.” A few months later, he was astonished at receiving the animal, whose actions and intelligence were the admiration of the country.

The elephant was kept in a large enclosure, and treated with every kindness and attention, and developed a remarkable intelligence, soon learning to assist in many ways the man who was employed to take care of it. At his request it would go to him, take a broom, and sweep the paths or grass wherever he indicated, using her trunk to perform the work, with as much ease as a man would his hands. When he was watering the garden, it would follow him around, carrying the water-pot; always being rewarded for its faithful services with a carrot, or some other vegetable. The keeper soon found that the elephant was adroit at work of any kind. When given a bottle, it uncorked it itself, by pressing it against the ground with its foot, and holding it at an angle of forty-five degrees, carefully pulling the cork out with its trunk. When this feat was often tried for the entertainment of the duke’s friends, a soda-water bottle was used, in which the cork projected a very little above the edge. When the bottle was uncorked, she would turn her trunk around, so as to reverse it, and drink the contents with much gusto, then handing the bottle to the attendant.

Another trick it performed was equally applauded. This was to take off its blanket without the aid of its trunk. When the attendant rode it, he covered its back with a large cloth; and, when he wished to dismount, it would kneel, then rise, and, at the word of command, begin to agitate the muscles of its loins in such a manner that the housing was soon wriggled off, upon which it would take and fold it with exactness, and then toss it upon the centre of its back.

Such an animal naturally became a great favorite, and, at the time, was as famous as Jumbo. It displayed great affection for its keeper; and it is needless to say, that it was returned. The first keeper attended it for eight years; and, when he left, it seemed to mourn, and showed a disposition to resent the advances of the new attendant, but was gradually won over by kindness, and finally would cry lustily for him if he remained away what it considered too long a time. This famous elephant died of consumption in 1829, in the prime of life, being about twenty-one years of age.