TAMING AND TRAINING ELEPHANTS—CAPTURE AND TREATMENT—ELEPHANTS AS LABORERS AND AS CIRCUS PERFORMERS.  
In telling how elephants are trained, so interwoven is our subject with that of the capture of the animals, that perhaps our best plan will be to take a hint from Mrs. Glass’s recipe for cooking the hare, viz., catch him first—and commence with the capture of the animals. Although authentic instances are on record of elephants breeding in captivity, it is of very rare occurrence, so that, practically, it may be said that the entire supply of domesticated elephants has been obtained by conversion from a wild state.
The device of taking them in pitfalls still prevails in India, but this is a laborious operation, often unsuccessful, owing to the caution of the animal; besides this, if caught, the great weight of the elephant, and the inability of his legs to withstand any severe direct shock, too frequently cause so much injury to the game as to render this mode of capture unprofitable. A writer on Ceylon, nearly two hundred years ago, describes another method which is still practiced. Describing the captures of elephants for the stud of the king of Kandy, 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 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 them by snares, and sometimes by driving them into a kind of pound, they catch them.”
Throughout the China-Indian peninsula the natives use female elephants in approaching males detached from the herd, or selected as desired captives on account of their beauty—the capture being effected by casting a noose over the foot of the victim. Probably, however, the Moormen of Ceylon are unexcelled in daring or adroitness in this vocation. So fearless are these professional catchers, or panickeas as they are termed, that two will, without aid or attendants, attempt the capture of the largest sized elephant. Their only weapon is a flexible rope of deer’s or buffalo’s hide. Stealing behind the animal 107when at rest, or stealthily following in his footsteps if in motion, they attach this rope to his hind legs. When at rest the elephant has a habit of swinging his hind feet, which aids the catchers in slipping the noose over the leg. Should the noosing be effected in open ground where there is no tree to which to secure the prize, one man allows himself to be pursued by the enraged elephant, and thus entices him to a more favorable locality, where the other man seizes the trailing rope and winds it around some convenient tree. The animal now turns upon his new assailant, but the first provokes him with gesticulations and taunting shouts of “dah! dah!” of which word the animal has a remarkable dislike. Meanwhile, the man’s comrade has secured the first noose, entangles one foot after the other until all are secured, and the capture complete.
Then a shelter of branches is put up for the men, and day and night they remain encamped before their prisoner. The elephant, in a few days at the farthest, becomes submissive, subdued by exhaustion and hunger, the terror of the fire which he dreads, and the smoke which he detests. Then an abundance of plantains and other dainties are given him, he is supplied with plenty of water, of which he is very fond, and gradually he becomes reconciled to his keepers, and finally they venture to start with their huge prisoner for their own village, generally many miles away, with forests and jungles intervening. Still too morose to permit his captors to ride him, and too powerful to be led or driven, this forced march taxes the ingenuity of the hunters to the utmost. Alternately vexing and eluding him, they keep his attention constantly attracted, and so induce him to move in the desired direction. The rope with which the capture was effected is of some assistance, besides being used to tie up the animal at night, and this is never removed from his leg until he is sufficiently tame to be entrusted with partial liberty.
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GROUND PLAN OF A CORRAL.
 
METHOD OF FENCING A CORRAL.
Frequently a whole herd, numbering from thirty to one hundred individuals, is captured at once, but in this case a different plan from the foregoing is adopted. 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 toward 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 enclosed 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 109sides, 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 enclosure. 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 (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 carcass 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, and affords a much more exciting sport.
In Ceylon, in former times, the work connected with these hunts was performed by forced labor extorted from the natives by their sovereigns as a part of the feudal service termed “rajakaríya,” and this labor was in succession demanded by the Portuguese, Dutch and English, as the island passed successively into their possession. Since the abolition of this compulsory duty, there has been no difficulty in securing all required assistance voluntarily. From fifteen hundred to two thousand men are required to construct the corral, drive in the elephants, maintain the cordon of watch-fires and watchers, and attend to other duties. Many weeks are occupied in putting up the 110stockades, cutting paths through the jungle, and surrounding and driving in the elephants.
 
POSITION OFTEN TAKEN IN ATTEMPTING TO BREAK THE ROPE.
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.
111The space enclosed varies, but 500 feet in length by 250 wide is a fair average. At one end an entrance is 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 the animals would be prevented from making their escape at the sides while being forced forward to the entrance of the corral.
The corral being prepared, the beaters address themselves to driving in the elephants. For this purpose it is often necessary to make 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, who 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 onward toward 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. At last the elephants are forced onward 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.
Suddenly the signal is given, and the silence is broken by shouts from the guard, the banging of drums and tom-toms, and the discharge of muskets. Amid this noise the elephants are driven forward to and through the gate, which is instantly closed to cut off their retreat. In a moment more they rush wildly about the enclosure, trampling the brushwood beneath their ponderous tread, and charge against the palisades, screaming with rage at each unsuccessful effort. By degrees their efforts slacken, and in about an hour the whole herd, exhausted and stupified, stand motionless.
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SECURING CAPTURED ELEPHANTS WITH THE AID OF THE TAME ONES.
The next operation is to introduce the tame elephants into the corral to aid in securing the captives. Cautiously the bars which secure the entrance are let down, and the trained elephants, each mounted by its mahout and one attendant, enter the corral. Around the elephant’s neck is a strong collar composed of ropes of coconut fiber, from which hangs on either side cords of elk’s hide prepared with a ready noose. Gradually each trained animal approaches one of the wild ones, until being sufficiently near, the nooser watching his opportunity, slips the noose over one of its legs. Immediately the tame elephant retires with its riders, drawing the rope tight, and hauling the captive toward some large tree. In this the other tame animals lend assistance, pushing with their heads and shoulders. The first tame one now winds the rope around the tree, and the others crowd up to the wild animal, and keep him in position while his other legs are being secured. The tame elephants in all these proceedings appear to feel a sportsman’s interest, and are as eager to secure the victim as are their human assistants. Of their own accord they will perform any act which reason would naturally suggest for overcoming any difficulty that arises, or which seems necessary under any given circumstances. Thus Major Skinner relates an instance where a wild 113elephant raised with her trunk the rope which had been attached to her foot, succeeded in carrying it to her mouth, and would have bitten it through and escaped, but was prevented by a tame elephant placing his foot on the rope, and pressing it downward out of her jaws. On another occasion, the same authority says a tame animal watched her opportunity, and placed her foot under that of the wild one as he raised it, so as to prevent his replacing it upon the ground, enabling the nooser to attach the rope.
In all this though the tame elephants bend all their energies to securing the captives, and seem to really enjoy what is going on, they show no malignity, carefully avoid doing any injury to the prisoners, and even when it is necessary in binding new animals to walk over those already secured—usually sprawling on the ground struggling to get free—they take the utmost pains not to tread on them.
When first secured, the elephant struggles fiercely to break his bonds, writhing in a manner one would think impossible for so bulky and unwieldly an animal. Failing in this, he seems to give way to despair, and utters the most pitiable moans. Food is now placed within their reach, which at first they spurn indignantly, the older ones frequently trampling it under foot. The milder ones, as they become composed, allow themselves to be tempted by the delicacies before them, and commence listlessly chewing the juicy morsels. The mellow notes of a kandyan flute sometimes aid in soothing and composing the captives. It may be remarked that elephants are greatly influenced by music, being soothed and quieted by soft plaintive melodies, while it is also recorded that in the old wars in which they were used, their courage in battle was excited by the martial strains.
The last operation of the corral is to slacken the ropes and march each captive elephant down to the river between two tame ones. Both of the tame elephants are furnished with strong collars, and a similar collar is formed on the neck of the wild one, who stands between them, by successive coils of coconut; then these collars are connected, and the prisoner made secure between his guards. Then the nooses which have confined his feet are removed, and the three animals march to the river, where they are allowed to bathe. After the bath the captive elephant is made fast to some tree in the forest, keepers are assigned to him, as well as a retinue of leaf-cutters, whose duty it is to keep him supplied with such food as he most relishes. These arrangements being made, he is left to the care of his new masters, who will see that he is trained up in the way he should go.
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THE WAY THAT ELEPHANTS ARE TRAINED.
 
It is a very general impression that the training of these huge and powerful animals is a work of great difficulty and tediousness. This is a mistake. Elephants are naturally of a mild and docile nature, although hunters and travelers, to add luster to their own exploits, have represented them otherwise. Even the notorious “rogues”[3] are not such wholly bad fellows as has been asserted by some of these writers, and the Mayne Reid style of natural history must be taken with considerable allowance. In their wild state it is very seldom that they attack any person or animal, unless provoked or assailed, and even when some heroic hunter sneaks up to shoot them unawares, or from some secure position peppers them with his rifle, the animals usually appear only anxious to escape from their aggressor.[4]
3. Most readers are familiar with the term “rogue” as applied to elephants, but probably some are not aware of its exact meaning. A herd of elephants is a family, and not a group collected by accident or attachment. The usual number of individuals in a herd is from ten to twenty, though the latter number is sometimes exceeded. In their visits to water-courses and migrations, alliances are formed between members of different herds, thus introducing new blood into the family. If an individual becomes separated from his herd, however, he is not permitted to introduce himself into another. He may browse in their vicinity, or resort to the same stream to bathe or drink, but farther than this no acquaintance is allowed. An elephant who has lost his herd, and is by this habit of exclusiveness made an outcast, is a “rogue,” and this ban under which he suffers tends to excite that moroseness and savageness for which rogues are noted. Another conjecture is, that as rogues are almost always males, the death or capture of particular females has led them to leave their herds to seek new alliances. A tame elephant escaping from captivity, unable to find his former companions, becomes of necessity a rogue.
4. We could never experience any other feelings than disgust at the cruelty, and pity for the animals, at reading the sickening details with which, with a slaughter-house gusto, certain heroes have graced the narratives of their exploits. Gordon Cummings gives an account of his pursuit of a wounded elephant which he had lamed by lodging a ball in its shoulder blade. It limped slowly toward a tree, against which it leaned itself in helpless agony, whilst its pursuer seated himself in front of it, in safety, to boil his coffee, and observe its sufferings. The story is continued as follows: “Having admired him for a considerable time, I resolved to make experiments on vulnerable points; and approaching very near I fired several bullets at different parts of his enormous skull. He only acknowledged the shots by a salaam-like movement of his trunk, with the point of which he gently touched the wounds with a striking and peculiar action. Surprised and shocked at finding that I was only prolonging the sufferings of the noble beast, which bore its trials with such dignified composure, I resolved to finish the proceeding with all possible despatch, and accordingly opened fire upon him from the left side, aiming at the shoulder. I first fired six shots with the two-grooved rifle, which must have eventually proved mortal. After which I fired six shots at the same part with the Dutch six-pounder. Large tears now trickled from his eyes, which he slowly shut and opened, his colossal frame shivered convulsively, and falling on his side, he expired.”
In another place, after detailing the manner in which he assailed a poor animal, he says: “I was loading and firing as fast as could be, sometimes at the head, sometimes behind the shoulder, until my elephant’s forequarter was a mass of gore: notwithstanding which he continued to hold on, leaving the grass and branches of the forest scarlet in his wake. * * * * * Having fired thirty-five rounds with my two-grooved rifle, I opened upon him with the Dutch six-pounder, and when forty bullets perforated his hide, he began for the first time to evince signs of a dilapidated constitution.” The disgusting description is closed thus: “Throughout the charge he repeatedly cooled his person with large quantities of water, which he ejected from his trunk over his sides and back, and just as the pangs of death came over him, he stood trembling violently beside a thorn tree, and kept pouring water into his bloody mouth until he died, when he pitched heavily forward with the whole weight of his fore-quarters resting on the points of his tusks. The strain was fair, and the tusks did not yield; but the portion of his head in which the tusks were imbedded, extending a long way above the eye, yielded and burst with a muffled crash.”
“Sport” is noble, but a butcher is not necessarily a sportsman, and a useless destruction of life, where no more danger is incurred than in a butcher’s shambles, is not an absolute proof of courage or heroism, and the “noble hunters” have not the butcher’s excuse for the bloodshed. Whatever of heroism t............