The Elephant Keeper

From this it may be seen that with Elephants, as is generally the case in Nature, the female is in every particular smaller than the male.

As with the Elephant which had died at sea, the tusks of the male were different in length. From base to tip, the right tusk measured 13 inches, whereas his left tusk measured only 10 inches and was somewhat blunter. This discrepancy at first seemed odd, but I later found the explanation, which is that a particular tusk is always used for digging, much as human beings use a particular hand for writing, and that this tusk is therefore gradually worn away.

Although I was unable to weigh the Elephants, I believe that each weighed about the same as a large bull, or less, for they had been starved on the voyage and their skins hung slack on their bones. As they lay asleep, little Joshua frequently visited the stables—for, like me, I believe, he had fallen in love with the Elephants—and together we would watch as their bodies rose and fell with each breath. We would rest our hands on their warm skins, or press our ears against their sides and listen to the slow beating of their hearts. Once, I remember, he asked me if the Elephants would die, and I told him that I hoped not. ‘They must not die,’ he declared in a fierce voice, ‘I will not allow them to die;’ whereupon he knelt and began to pray for their recovery, and I knelt as well, and who can tell that our prayers did not succeed, for soon after this the stronger of the two Elephants, the female, took a long draught of water, after which she fell asleep again. The male remained on the border between Life and Death for much longer, and although he drank water on the third day it was not until more than a week had passed that he began to make a slow recovery.

After two or more weeks, both Elephants had struggled to their feet, and I was able to tempt their appetites with fresh hay and vegetables, which I bought in quantities from the Corn Market in Union Street. Once they had remembered how to eat, they ate in prodigious haste, cramming their mouths, I would say full, but an Elephant has a very capacious mouth. They liked fruits and vegetables of all kinds, including turnips, beans and potatoes, and had an excessive fondness for carrots. I remember the great excitement they both shewed when I first placed a heap of carrots in their feeding troughs. This relish of carrots being so marked, made me speculate that the Elephants must know what carrots were; in short, that the taste of the carrots must stimulate memories of their lives in the natural state. Whether this is so I cannot say for sure, I have asked several travellers who have seen troops of wild Elephants in the Cape and the Indies, but none has ever been able to recall whether there were carrots present.

Their consumption of water was vast, amounting to a dozen barrels a day, and I also gave them fresh milk, in order to help them recover their strengths. Here I should mention that, when Elephants drink, they do so by means of their trunks, which they use as straws, sucking up long draughts of liquid which they squirt into their mouths. I have heard it said that very young Elephants do not use their trunks, but bend down to drink directly with their mouths; whether this is true or not I do not know, but I never saw my two Elephants using their mouths to drink. However, they were clumsy, and it was not uncommon for them to knock over the pails with their feet, which when they understood an expression of surprize would cross their faces. Their pleasure in food and drink was evident, and once they had finished their meal they would demand further nourishment by waving their trunks and uttering little squeals.

One thing I quickly discovered was that their sense of smell was acute, far more acute than that of a horse; whether as sharp as that of a blood-hound I would not know, but if I entered the stables with a carrot or another tid-bit in one of my pockets, both Elephants would promptly scent it out, and the way in which their trunks greedily reached toward the pocket and, indeed, into the pocket, made me think that they could all but see with their trunks. This cannot be so, and yet in an Elephant the scent organ, which lies in the tip of the trunk, is so sensitive that it is akin to a third eye. Once, when the male was asleep, I made the experiment of concealing some carrots in a heap of hay, and upon awakening he instantly detected the carrots and tossed the hay aside to reach his favourite food.

I was exceedingly cautious of their strength and power, and took care not to be caught between their bodies, nor against the stable walls, when I might easily have been crushed. I kept them in view all the time; I did not once turn my back on them, or let them gain any advantage of me with their trunks, which would suddenly sway in my direction. They had suffered so much on the voyage that they might easily nurture a hatred of human beings, and I had no intention of letting them take their revenge upon me. If they felt hatred, however, they never shewed it in their eyes, which rather seemed to convey an utter weariness. The eyes of an Elephant are close-set and small, relative to the vast size of the skull, indeed they seem to be much smaller than the eyes of horses, which appear large and globular; but they are nonetheless highly expressive.

Mr. Harrington and little Joshua regularly came to see the Elephants, and Joshua always wanted to pet them, as he did the horses; but this I strongly counselled against. However, I would hold him up to the stable doors, and then he would offer each of the great animals a carrot, which they would twitch from his hands.

‘Do you think they will ever forget the experience of the voyage?’ Mr. Harrington asked me once.

I answered that both dogs and horses would remember illtreatment many years after it had happened. Mr. Harrington said he had heard from one of his acquaintances, a certain Mr. Coad, who had travelled widely in the Indies, that Elephants had infinitely superior memories to other animals, indeed, in that respect, were perhaps second only to Man, and that it was likely that some traces of their ordeal would never be lost. ‘Yet I believe,’ he continued, ‘that by treating them with kindness and respect, we may gradually cause these unhappy memories to dim in their minds.’

Mrs. Harrington also visited. She was very nervous of the Elephants, and even more so when she saw me lifting Joshua toward them in order to give them carrots. Her husband assured her that the boy was entirely safe, and Joshua said fiercely, ‘Tom will look after me!’, but she remained fearful. She asked how much larger the Elephants would grow, and Mr. Harrington said he believed that they might grow a good deal more; the male would grow larger than the female. She said, ‘No one else owns Elephants, why should we?’—‘If I had left them by the quay, they would have died.’—‘It might have been better if they had,’ she said. Mr. Harrington: ‘How so?’ Mrs. Harrington: ‘Because, as they increase in size, they will grow more dangerous.’ Mr. Harrington: ‘That they may grow larger does not mean they will be more dangerous. They are peaceful enough now, are they not?’—‘At the moment, they are.’ Mrs. Harrington looked very uncertain, however. Mr. Harrington smiled: ‘Would you prefer me to have bought you a little Negro boy, for a pet slave?’—‘Not at all,’ she replied, ‘you know that I abhor slavery, it is a barbaric custom.’—‘Yet it serves a need,’ he answered, ‘and indeed most slaves are grateful to their masters, for how otherwise would they be cloathed and fed? How would they live?’—‘That may or may not be, but I still do not understand what you purpose in keeping these creatures.’—‘I myself am not sure, but everything has a purpose. In time, they may breed.’—‘Why, I very much hope not,’ cried Mrs. Harrington, ‘if they are brother and sister, as you say!’—‘So the Master of the Dover told me, but who knows?’ replied Mr. Harrington. This was the first time that I had heard of the Elephants being brother and sister, or of the idea that they might breed.

The history of the Elephants before their capture is a blank, and for a long time I was not even sure whether they were from the Indies or from the Cape, though this particular doubt I later resolved when the same Mr. Coad, whom I mentioned earlier, came to see the two animals at Harrington Hall, and told me that they must come from the Indies: for in the Indies, the male grows tusks, while the female does not; however in the island of Ceylon none of the Elephants, either male or female, grows tusks, whereas in the Cape the male and the female both have tusks, though the females’ are no more than short things.

I used to puzzle as to how such large creatures as Elephants could be taken into captivity. Were they caught in nets? However it was done, it seemed to me, the matter must be extremely hazardous, for if the Elephant chose to resist capture, as it must, who could stand against it? I have since heard of the ways in which they are taken prisoner in the Indies.

The first is used to capture single male Elephants, which, said Mr. Coad, are known as tuskers. A tame female Elephant is sent into the jungle; when she finds a herd of wild Elephants, she makes advances to one of the tuskers, giving him caresses with her trunk until his desires are inflamed. As he responds to her advances, she artfully leads him away from his family into some quiet nook where, as he hopes, he will achieve a conquest, and with his mind thus engrossed two young natives creep up and slip a sort of rope round his hind legs. This they wind round some sturdy tree. The wily female now moves away from the tusker, who on discovering the restraints on his legs flies into a terrible frenzy, roaring and trumpeting shrilly, and attempting to recover his liberty. At length, after some hours, he seems to fall into a fit of despair, but the rage soon returns, and he roars again, and tries to rip up the ground with his tusks, and then again gives himself up to despair, and so on, for several days, until the cravings of hunger and thirst subdue his temper.

The second method is, I think, the one that must have been employed with the Elephants of which I now took charge. This method involves hundreds of natives, who form a wide circle round a grazing herd in the jungle. These natives are careful not to alarm the Elephants at first, but by lighting fires and brandishing torches, they gradually persuade the herd to move in a particular direction, that is, away from all the noise and clamour, and toward a specially prepared inclosure, known in the Hindoo tongue as a keddah. Sometimes it may take as long as a week before the herd reaches the keddah. This inclosure is formed of upright and transverse beams, which make a barricade, reinforced by a deep ditch, and is in truth a series of linked inclosures, the first being large, the second smaller, the third smaller still. The barricades are concealed by thorn and bamboo, but as the Elephants approach they often grow suspicious and attempt a retreat, whereupon they are met by banging gongs and shaking rattles. Once they enter the first inclosure, a gate is shut, and then they have no choice but to advance into the second inclosure, and again the gate is shut, and at last they arrive at the third. The Elephants by now being greatly alarmed, charge and rampage, but at every point they are repelled, and they gather in a sulky group, not knowing what to do, and here remain for a day, until a small door is opened, leading into a narrow passage. Food is thrown down, enticing one of the Elephants to enter, as he does so the door is shut. He tries to turn but there is not enough space, he tries to back out but the way is barred: he has no choice but to advance further and further, his mind whirling in terror and confusion, until he finds himself confined in a tight space. Here he is held by strong ropes, and here, while his rage subsides, that is, until it is subdued by hunger, he remains for a week or month, or longer, in the company of a man known as a mahoot, who will become his keeper for the rest of his life. This man never leaves the Elephant’s side, and takes care of his every need; so that the Elephant comes to depend upon him, understanding his commands and doing anything to please him. Indeed, the Elephant is the man’s slave, but there is this difference from many human slaves: that he serves willingly, lovingly, without questioning his position or feeling the least resentment: for, in the mind of the Elephant, his keeper, however poor or humble his station in human society, is a kind of God.

CHAPTER II

MY TWO Elephants (I had begun to think of them as mine, though they were the property of Mr. Harrington) were very pleased with each other’s company, and as a sign of their friendship they would entwine their trunks over the partition which divided their stables. Soon I began to feel more confident, and would let them use their trunks to explore what kind of creature I was, feeling round my neck, or my legs, or my head and face. It was a curious sensation to feel a waft of hot Elephant breath on my cheek or ear.

The stables in which the Elephants were housed faced east, and therefore received sunlight during the mornings only. One warm afternoon, I decided to let them into the yard. Being surrounded by brick walls, the yard was entirely secure, though as a precaution I tied ropes between each of their back and front legs. My heart beat as I bent under the trunks to tie the knots, but I made a shew of bravado; for them to have detected my apprehension would have been a great error. In the yard they passed a very pleasant two hours, after which I led them back to their stables. Martin and I then took a horse and cart over the bridge to the Corn Market in order to buy fresh provisions for our charges, but we had scarcely reached the Market when one of the maids came panting toward us, crying out that the Elephants had escaped and were running through the streets. Much alarmed, I hastened back to the house, where to my great relief I found both Elephants peacefully browsing on the small weeds which grew out of the cracks between the bricks. With the lure of a few sweet carrots, I was easily able to return them to the safety of their stables.

Since I had bolted both stable doors, it was a great puzzle as to how the Elephants had broken loose. I strongly suspected that Joshua must have set them free, but when I next saw the boy, he hotly protested his innocence. I confess that I was not entirely sure whether to believe him, which made him very cross; he stamped his foot and began to shout so loudly that Mrs. Harrington appeared and asked me what the matter was. When she heard that the Elephants had escaped, she tightened her lips and said that she had known it would happen. I promised her that they would never escape again; yet they succeeded in doing so on the very next day. I therefore set a trap, pretending to leave with the cart, but concealing myself in one of the horses’ stables, with a good view of those occupied by the Elephants. Nothing happened for several minutes; then the female, who had been watching to see whether she was observed, curled up her trunk, grasped the bolt that secured the door to her stable, and slid it back in one deft motion. The male did likewise, and both animals ambled out, very pleased with themselves; at which point, I sprang from my hiding place, and drove them back to their quarters. I secured each of the stable doors with a lock, which could only be opened with a key. Both Elephants made repeated efforts to pick their locks over the coming hours; when they failed, I felt triumphant. I have defeated you, I thought to myself. Yet, soon enough, I came back from the Corn Market to find them once again in the yard, and the stable doors lying flat on the ground, torn off their hinges. The Elephants, having given up the locks, had lit upon the simple expedient of backing themselves out of their stables. They eyed me with a kind of glee, which was not at all as innocent as it pretended to be, and I gave them a severe reprimand, telling them how strongly I disapproved of their actions. They would not meet my eyes and looked uneasily away.

After this incident, I had stronger doors made, with iron bars, but it was plain that the Elephants needed proper training. However, before I had got very far with this, there was another matter to consider. Mr. Harrington and his family were returning to Thornhill for the summer months, and the Elephants had to shift also. How to move them safely over thirty miles of country was an aukward question. Martin was in favour of putting them in the same stout wooden crates which had been used to move them from the quay, and transporting them by waggon; while I argued that they should travel on foot, with their legs chained. I doubted that we would be able to persuade them into the crates, which would surely remind them of the torments that they had endured on the voyage from the Indies; and I also doubted that, if they attempted to regain their freedom, the crates would hold. Mr. Harrington, however, agreed with Martin, pointing out that, since College Green lay on the west side of Bristol, and to the north of the river, our route would necessarily take us through the centre of the city, where the streets are very narrow, and that the Elephants would be certain to attract crowds of people, causing untold havock; moreover, even when we were outside the city and in the countryside, we could not be sure that they would not take fright and bolt across the open fields. The only safe course, therefore, was to transport them in the crates.

Several days before the journey was to take place, I placed the crates in the stable-yard, lining them with hay and hiding their appearance with rags and ivy. In spite of this disguise, the Elephants were not deceived; they were very wary of the open crates, and would not go near them. However, I gave them very little food, and by the third day, which was the day before we hoped to leave, the suspicions of the male had been overtaken by hunger, and he went into one of the crates and ate some hay. The female remained highly suspicious. Our difficulty was all the greater, in that the animals had to enter their crates at the same time; for, if the male saw the female being imprisoned, he would certainly take fright, and the same for the female.

Early on the morning of the journey, Martin and I had assembled a troop of helpers—some twenty strong men, from other houses on the Green—and while they stood by I laid a trail of carrots from the stables into the crates, which were piled with carrots. To my astonishment, this ruse worked as soon as I opened the stable doors; indeed it worked so quickly, both Elephants hurrying into their crates, that all of us were taken by surprize. The men rushed forward, ten to each Elephant, and held them there while iron bars were laid in place. When the Elephants understood that they had been tricked into captivity, they trumpeted in rage and distress, and I have no doubt that they would have broken out, but that the crates had been strengthened with bars, and that they were tightly confined, unable to turn or to swing their trunks. I should say here that people often believe that an Elephant’s tusks are its main weapon; whereas, in truth, the trunk is far more dangerous.

Without further ado, each of the crates was loaded on to a waggon, and tightly secured with ropes; then a team of four horses was put in the shafts.

Fortune favoured us thus far, but no further: for we had scarcely left the city of Bristol behind us when the clouds opened. The rain began to pour, and the roads were soon sticky with mud, and the Elephants made a heavy load. Moreover, the horses, though strong, were frightened by the presence of the Elephants, who kept up an intermittent bellowing and trumpeting. Their cries made me desperate to cover the thirty miles as quickly as possible, in order to release them from their confinement; but we made poor progress, and as we were struggling up a steep down near Cheddar, I wondered whether we would ever reach the top. The rain pelted, and the road, which was deeply rutted, ran in chalky torrents, and the horses strained and stumbled; we dismounted, but one horse puffed and blowed so badly I thought that she would drop. As we neared the top, we met a large herd of sheep being driven to market, and their baas and bleats persuaded the Elephants to trumpet even more loudly. In the midst of this cacophony, the shepherd shouted to ask what animals we had on our waggons; on hearing that they were Elephants, he seemed as amazed as if he had been told that they were dragons. The Elephants quietened after that; and when we reached an inn at Wells, where we gave our tired horses a bait, I peered into the crate containing the tusker. In the lines of light shining faintly through the cracks between the boards, he stood motionless, but I caught the gleam of an eye, and I had the impression that he was looking at me. The end of his trunk slid, and blew against the crack. Within her crate, the female was equally still. I imagined the distress in their minds, and their fear that they were about to be put on another ship.

Night had already fallen with the rain still heavy when we crawled into Thornhill, passing the cottage where my family lived. We turned into Mr. Harrington’s estate and drove to the stables behind the Hall. My father, whom I had not seen for over three months, was waiting with my fellow grooms, Bob Brown and Dick Shadwick. While they attended to the horses I prised open the crates, first that of the female, then that of the male. Both Elephants were dazed, and unsteady on their feet; they staggered toward each other through the puddles and bumped bodies; but I was relieved that they were alive. After I had given them a long draught of water, I led them into the cart-house, which it had been decided would be their new home. I would not allow any of the grooms, not even my father, to help, which caused some ill-feeling, but my main concern was with the comfort of the two Elephants.

Presently Mr. Harrington appeared, and with him was Joshua, carrying a lanthorn. The Elephants were standing side by side, and I remember how for one moment in the light held up by the little boy they seemed to shrink back, their trunks drooping from their faces, while their shadows flung against the rough whitewashed wall at the back of the cart-house merged to form a single dark shadow creature with a double trunk, which swayed and stretched to the slightest movement of the lanthorn. Mr. Harrington asked me how the Elephants did and I told him that they did very well, though they were greatly unsettled by the journey.

That night I slept with them at the cart-house. In the morning, I left them in the care of my father, and went to see my mother, whom I was glad to find in good health. She told me that my brother, despite his head-aches, had been given work in the gardens at Harrington Hall, and when I learnt this I felt very grateful to Mr. Harrington. However, she was frightened that I was in charge of two Elephants, and kept telling me to take care of myself, for, she cried out, wringing her hands, that she could not bear it if I were torn to pieces and eaten alive. From this remark I discovered that she believed Elephants to be animals of great ferocity, who used their vast tusks like swords to slaughter their prey, having been told as much by Mrs. Perry, a withered old woman who was one of our close neighbours in Thornhill. Since my mother held Mrs. Perry to be an infallible authority on all matters political, historical, geographical, moral and scientific, although in her entire life she had probably never ventured more than a dozen miles from Thornhill, I had the greatest difficulty in persuading her (my mother, that is) that, on the contrary, Elephants were gentle as cows, though ten times as intelligent, and ate only vegetable matter. When I invited her to see for herself, she said that she did not dare, it was more than her life was worth; she was sure that she would be eaten. With my father’s help, however, I prevailed on her to come. She gazed at the female, and then at the male, before saying, ‘Tom, if it is so gentle, why does it have tusks?’ This question has often puzzled me, and I confess that I do not know the answer. Although it may be that, in the wild, the tusks are sometimes used as weapons, I am sure that they are chiefly employed for peaceful purposes, digging for roots and unearthing shrubs and trees, in which service they are very valuable.