The stocks are built in covered stalls, so that each elephant is separate from the others. Two large uprights are driven into the ground in the shape of a V; the elephant's head is drawn between them, and they are pulled together at the top so that he is held securely behind the ears. At the corners are uprights, with poles to fence him in, running between them. These poles, located a trifle below his belly, support two cross-bars, one just behind his fore legs, and the other in front of his back legs. In this position it is impossible for the elephant to lie down or to move; he can wiggle his legs and wave his trunk, but that is all.
The elephant remains in the stocks for about two weeks. During that time he is fed and petted by a keeper appointed for that particular job. The keeper crawls over his back and rubs him behind the ears and gives him water, fruit and bamboo shoots. The elephant learns not to be afraid when a man is near him, and he gradually becomes more docile. During these two weeks he is fed very lightly because he must be kept in a weakened condition.
After two or three weeks, according to the disposition of the elephant, ropes are again attached to his feet, and he is led out of the stocks. This time he wears only the knee-hobbles, which allow him more play. Eight or ten men hold each of the ropes; his keeper sits on his head with a prod; another crew hold the rope attached to his trunk; and six or eight men follow with rattan whips. The men with the whips beat him continually. At first, in the excitement, he does not mind the whipping; then he finds the pain unbearable. The men on the trunk-ropes lead him about from right to left, while the men on the foot-ropes stand ready to trip him if he tries to bolt. At last he gives a bellow of pain and the whipping stops.
This one bellow marks a surprising change in the animal. His spirit is broken and he acknowledges that man is his master. The fact that he is instantly fed and petted helps him to make up his mind, of course, and to forget about the old, wild ways of the jungle. Thereafter, a keeper who does not deliberately make him angry can handle him easily. His schooling is brief and he learns readily to turn, kneel, back and pull. In return he is given plenty of food and is tied to a tree instead of being put in the stocks.
It occasionally happened that an elephant refused to bellow. In that case, I had the men lead him out to be shot, for I knew I should be wasting time in trying to break him.
The opinion is generally held by those who have had the best opportunities of observing the elephant, that the popular estimate of its intelligence is a greatly exaggerated one; that instead of being the exceptionally wise animal it is believed to be, its sagacity is of a very mediocre description. Of the truth of this opinion no one who has lived amongst elephants can entertain a doubt.
The elephant's size and staid appearance, its gentleness, and the ease with which it performs various services with its trunk, have probably given rise to the exalted idea of its intellect. Amongst those not intimately acquainted with it, and it being but little known outside of its native countries, what is known of it justly make it a general favorite and leads to tales of intelligence being not only accepted without investigation, but welcomed with pleasure.
One of the strongest features in the domesticated elephant's character, is its obedience. It is also readily taught, but its reasoning faculties are far below those of a dog, and possibly other animals, and in matters beyond the range of its daily experience, it evinces no special discernment; while quick at comprehending anything taught to it, it is decidedly wanting in originality.
Let us consider whether the elephant displays more intelligence in its wild state than other animals. Though possessed of a proboscis, which is capable of guarding it against such dangers, it readily falls into a pit dug for catching it, only covered with a few sticks and leaves. Its fellows make no effort to assist the fallen one, as they might easily do by kicking in the earth around the pit, but they flee in terror.
It commonly happens that a young elephant falls into a pit near which the mother will remain until the hunter comes, without doing anything to assist it, not even feeding it by throwing in a few branches. This, no doubt, is more difficult of belief to most people than if they were told that the mother supplied it with grass, brought water in her trunk, or filled up the pit with trees and effected the young one's release.