Elephants are very sagacious animals, and many amusing and interesting stories are told of them. It is said that one of them was once taught to stand at the gate of the king’s palace and from a large vessel placed there, filled with rice, take out some with a huge spoon and give to every priest that passed. I cannot vouch for the truth of this, but more wonderful instances of sagacity can be verified. The white elephants in the king’s stables in Bangkok have been taught to salute His Majesty by raising their trunks high above their heads.
While I resided in Siam an American friend went with his wife from Bangkok through the wilderness to British Burmah. They traveled nearly two hundred miles, and used some fourteen different elephants, paying about fifty cents a day for each. At night these beasts were turned out to browse among the bamboos, some of the drivers keeping watch. When they were in the jungle bright fires were kept blazing. Awaking one night from a sound sleep, and looking toward the blaze, my friend saw among the outstretched sleeping men one of the huge elephants seated on his haunches warming himself by the fire. He awoke his wife to enjoy with him this strange and amusing sight in the solemn stillness of the tropical forest.
In March of every year a large number of wild elephants are captured at the city of Ayuthia, and from them His Majesty makes selections for his royal stables in Bangkok. For eight or ten weeks hundreds of men are employed to drive them from the forests where they roam, that they may be nearer the city. On the day appointed for their capture a number of tame ones are used to entice them into the enclosure prepared for them, and they seem to take great pleasure and show wonderful sagacity in helping to capture their kindred. They will hem in some two hundred wild ones, and with the help of their drivers and attendants compel them to enter through the gate into the enclosure. Some go in quietly, and others make great resistance. Such as His Majesty fancies are then secured by strong noosed ropes cautiously slipped over their feet and fastened to trees or posts. When thoroughly subdued by hunger or hard blows they are brought down to Bangkok. After a time they become quite reconciled to their new surroundings, and show no disposition to return to their forest home.
Nothing can equal the veneration of the Siamese for the so-called white elephant, though the only really white elephant is upon their national flag. Sometimes one is found something the color of a Bath brick (used for cleaning knives) or a little darker, and is so much lighter-colored than usual that it is spoken of as white; but most of these are only lighter in patches on shoulders, neck, head and inside of the ears. All over the kingdom, when such an albino is found, there is great rejoicing, and the finder is very handsomely rewarded. They come, as a rule, from the Laos territory to the north.
The country whose king is the fortunate possessor of one or more of these treasures is thought to be greatly blessed, and no amount of money can purchase one. The royal stables of Bangkok are seldom without an occupant. I have several times visited them. Siam should be very prosperous now, as His Majesty has five of these so-called white elephants. They are kept in a long block of buildings at the rear of the arsenal. Each one has an entire stable for his own use, his grooms and attendants sleeping at one end of it. The stable is high and spacious, and at one end is a small image of Buddha with lamps burning in front. Each has a royal title, and there is a handsome sign over the door giving in large gilt letters the full name and title of the inmate. The great beast stands on a handsomely-built pedestal raised about a foot from the floor, with its top just large enough to hold him. He has rings of gold on his tusks, and is fastened by one fore and one hind foot to gilded posts with ropes covered with crimson velvet. These royal captives are fed with bananas, sugar-cane and other dainties, and with small bundles of fresh grass, all carried to them on silver salvers by men on their knees. Every want of these royal beasts is carefully attended to. A recent visitor says: “He stands proudly yet restlessly on his contracted throne, and lashes his trunk and sways his heavy head and tusks around in an imperious, lordly manner, trumpeting now and then until the whole hall trembles with the deafening reverberation. When he is seen to itch in any part of his body his royal hide is promptly scratched with a small iron rake-like instrument with a long handle; his eyes are reverently wiped, and he has a cool sponge-bath every hour or two of day and night during the hot season.”
When one of these rare creatures is found in any of the northern provinces the governor of that province sees that he is comfortably escorted through the forest to the river, where he is received on a handsomely-decorated raft of bamboos, placed in a canopy in the centre of the raft, garlanded with flowers and pampered with delicacies. The king, with his whole court in their elegant barges, and myriads of people in boats, with banners and music, go up the river two days’ journey to meet him. As all are anxious to share the honor of bringing him down to the city, each boat has a rope attached to the raft, and shouts of joy fill the air as he progresses. On arriving, a pavilion in the palace-grounds is ready to receive him, a title is given him and slaves appointed to care for him. A public festival of a week’s continuance is appointed; priests of the highest grade chant prayers in his presence daily. When sick he is attended by the wisest of the court physicians; the priests wait upon him, sprinkle him with consecrated water and pray for his recovery. If he dies there is universal mourning, and funeral honors are paid to his remains.
One day a strange procession passed down the river in front of our house in Bangkok. There were eight large barges, six of them with curtains of crimson and gold cloth, each manned by about thirty boatmen dressed in red trousers, jackets and caps. They had a brass band, which made very mournful music, for it was a funeral occasion. The first impression was that some personage eminent for rank was being borne to sepulture; but no, this procession was simply doing honor to the dead body of a light-colored elephant.
The third and fourth boats had no gay curtains, but they had the five-storied umbrellas which denote great rank, and between these two boats the corpse was fastened and floated in the water. There was a canopy of white cloth over it to protect it from the sun. Phya is a title given to a high order of nobility in Siam, and this distinguished elephant was named Phya Sawate. It was so highly esteemed that more than two hundred men escorted it to its last resting-place.
Now, why such parade and ceremony? For the strange reason that the Siamese, with all other Buddhists, believe that at death their spirits pass into the body of some man or animal, of more or less importance according to the amount of merit made while living, and that they may be thus born thousands of times. If they find an elephant of a lighter complexion than usual, they think the spirit of some distinguished person dwells in it—possibly, that of some future Buddha, sure to bring a blessing on the country which possesses so great a treasure.
We hope that the day will soon come when Christianity will supplant Buddhism, and the Siamese be wise enough to prize the elephant only for what it can do in the service of man.