In the early years of the dynasty, when Burma submitted to Chinese rule, elephants were regularly sent as tribute. An elephant house was set up at the foot of the inner city wall inside Xuanwu Gate to raise them. On great occasions of court congratulation, the elephants were draped with yellow blankets, a precious vase was placed on each spine, and they were stationed before the jade chariots and golden carriages at the Meridian Gate as part of the tribute display. An elephant stands ten feet tall and measures a little over ten feet from head to tail. Its trunk is four or five feet long, level with its legs, so that from a distance it seems to have five legs. Its eyes are like a rat's, its tail like a donkey's. With its trunk it can pick up grass and eat it. Its tusks protrude beyond its lips, one on each side, over a foot long. These tusks cannot take food; food is taken with the small teeth inside the mouth. After the court congratulation, officials and attendants lead the elephants away with ropes threaded through their nostrils. To mount one, they hook a sharp hook into its hide and climb up. When the hook is withdrawn, the hole in the hide closes of itself, leaving no trace of blood. The Lunheng says: "An elephant a fathom tall is hooked by a Yue boy; the elephant's hide fears no knife." Truly so. In the elephant house each elephant has its own shed. The walls have holes large enough to hold a man. When an elephant grows angry, the officials and attendants enter the holes to escape it. After three or four years of keeping, they gradually grow tame and can understand human speech. When women and children come to look, the attendants tell them: "Greet the elephant," and it bends one knee. They tell it: "Spray water," and a bucket is set before it; it sucks it dry with its trunk and sprays it skyward, the water scattering down like rain. That the tame elephants of Emperor Dezong of Tang were good at dancing is surely no idle tale. After years of taming they possess a humane heart. One day an elephant reached a main thoroughfare where a man was carrying a load of fresh vegetables for sale. The elephant curled its trunk around it and ate it all in an instant. The seller cried out in grief: "My whole family lives on this one load—what am I to do?" The elephant looked back at a great shop nearby with a splendid facade, pulled at its doorpost with its trunk, and the roof tiles rattled. The attendants told the shopkeeper to pay the price of the vegetables at once. When he had paid, the elephant went on its way. Thus is its cleverness known. Every year on the sixth day of the sixth month, the elephants are bathed in the Imperial River.
This piece moves from the elephant-house system and court ceremonial to the daily life and clever anecdotes of tame elephants, combining institutional research with the flavor of a zhiguai notebook. The author records in fine detail the elephant's build, the uses of trunk and tusks, the method of leading and mounting, even the detail of attendants hiding in wall holes when an elephant rages—reading it is like seeing it before one's eyes. Most moving is the vegetable seller whose load is eaten: the elephant pulls at the shopkeeper's doorpost to signal that he should pay, a cleverness that reveals a plain sense of fairness. The text cites the Lunheng to confirm that elephant hide resists knives, and mentions Emperor Dezong's dancing elephants, linking present observations with old books and showing the intertextual pleasure typical of notebook writing. The bathing of elephants in the Imperial River on the sixth of the sixth month adds a vivid touch of urban custom. It suits readers interested in Qing-era Beijing life, animal lore, and notebook fiction, and serves as an easy entry into traditional elephant ceremonial. Read it as a cultural slice, watching how the ancients observed, tamed, and imagined an elephant.
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What does the text mean by saying the trunk, seen from afar, makes the elephant seem to have five legs?
It describes the trunk as four or five feet long, hanging almost level with the legs, so that from a distance the elephant appears to have an extra leg—hence "five legs." The metaphor vividly conveys the trunk's length and drooping posture, and shows the ancients' playful eye for observation.
Why did the elephant pull at the shopkeeper's doorpost after eating the seller's vegetables?
The text says that after the elephant ate the load of fresh vegetables and the seller lamented that his family's livelihood depended on it, the elephant looked back at a great shop nearby and pulled at its doorpost with its trunk until the roof tiles rattled. The attendants understood and told the shopkeeper to pay the vegetable price at once. The detail shows both the elephant's cleverness and the notebook author's appreciation of fairness and compassion.
What is the bathing of elephants in the Imperial River on the sixth of the sixth month for?
It is a Beijing custom recorded in the text: every year on the sixth day of the sixth month the elephants are bathed in the Imperial River. Beyond daily care in the elephant house, bathing was both cleaning and upkeep and gradually became a lively public spectacle. The original gives it only one sentence, yet it adds a touch of everyday life to the otherwise solemn account of ceremony and taming.
Can this text be cited as historical source material?
It is a notebook-style record, containing both observation and hearsay and allusion, with literary interest and historical value combined. For scholarly citation it should be cross-checked against institutional records and local gazetteers, not used alone as proof of institutional history. As material for understanding Qing elephant-house observations and notebook writing, it is quite suitable.
Chen Hengqing (1844–1920), courtesy name Zijiu, was a native of Weixian in Shandong (present-day Weicheng District, Weifang). A late Qing official and scholar, he passed the provincial examination in 1873 and the metropolitan examination in 1886. He served successively as a secretary in the Ministry of Works, rising through the Waterways, Construction, and Colonization Departments, and later held posts as Supervising Censor of the Ministry of War, Investigating Censor of the Henan Circuit, and Chief Supervising Censor. In 1908 he was appointed prefect of Jinzhou. He retired at sixty and wrote works including Jianshu Xian Notes (also known as Jili Qingtan) and Unofficial Gleanings of the Late Qing. His extant writings are considerable, with 154 titles held in our collection, many drawing on folk literature and Eastern philosophy. They touch on modern upheavals such as the militia conflicts, the Boxer movement, and the Nian rebels, as well as rural tales and social types like foxes and swindlers, and social issues such as Manchu-Han differences, bearing the documentary flavor of note-style historiography. Public information is limited, and his literary standing and influence await further study.
