During the recent war between England and Burmah, which resulted in the overthrow of King Theebaw, the elephant was frequently mentioned in despatches as being a valuable auxiliary to the troops when on the march; and that these noble animals constitute an important feature of many military posts in India, is, perhaps, not generally known. Such, however, is the case; and the service they perform when it is necessary to transport, troops, is invaluable. The elephant is not only attached to divisions as a baggage-carrier, but is utilized in actual service, elephant-batteries being organized for field-work. The Bengal, Bombay, and Madras artillery establishments each comprise an armament of two eighteen-pounder S. B. guns, one eight-inch iron howitzer, two eight-inch mortars, and two bronze mortars of five and a half inch calibre, with seven gun-carriages and platforms, and twenty-two ammunition-wagons drawn by bullocks. Nine elephants and two hundred and ninety bullocks were required for the battery, with ten riding mahouts, and one hundred and fifty native drivers.

The appearance of an elephant-battery in the field is very striking, and certainly the huge animals offer a good target to the artillery of the opposing force. Each elephant has a large pad, or saddle, strapped upon it, upon which rests the ammunition-box, or other article, as the case may be. Upon the neck of each elephant sits the mahout; while behind the ammunition-chest is stationed a soldier, who serves out the shot to the man detailed to carry it. It is said that the animals soon become accustomed to the noise of firing, and do not mind it in the least.

In the last Burmese war, the variety of uses to which these intelligent animals could be put, was shown on many occasions. After Theebaw had been overthrown, the country of Upper Burmah was overrun with gangs of robbers, called dacoits. blood-thirsty miscreants who pillaged the villages of peaceful natives, and even threatened Mandalay. To suppress them, the armed steam-launches “Pegu” and “Patrol” were sent up the river Sittang; and, in the chase, the “Patrol” ran aground on a shoal. There were literally no appliances for hauling her off, until some one happened to think of the elephant: forthwith, a large tusker was harnessed to the launch, and, urged by its mahout and the men of the other launch near by, the huge animal plunged into the river, and drew the heavy boat into deeper water.

Elephant-batteries have been used by the British Government in various parts of the East. In the third command of the Royal Artillery, the elephants transport the guns; and, on their return from the Lughman-valley expedition, they carried the battery in perfect safety across the dangerous and rapid Cabul River, where, a few months previous, a number of soldiers had lost their lives. When about to march, the gun, limber, and eight ammunition-boxes are hoisted upon the backs of the elephants in six minutes, fourteen gunners being required to perform the service. In some of the batteries, camels are employed to bear the ammunition. Often, when guns and carriages become caught in rocks or mud, the elephant is used to rescue them. Count de Warren mentions an instance that occurred in his brigade in the Coorg war in India. He says, “Having reached a point where the bed of the torrent fell in cascades, it became a question as to the mode of raising the guns up the almost vertical declivity of a granite rock, the surface of which the waters had worn and polished. The oxen which drew the cannon gave up the attempt after one or two efforts, and lay down, as they always do in desperate cases. I was then determined to send for some elephants of the convoy. Two of the most docile were stripped of their loads, and led by their guides to the place where the cannons were left. It was indicated to them, by voice and gesture, what was expected from their courage; and the confidence thus shown in them was not misplaced. One of the colossal beasts, placing himself behind the gun, applied the base of his trunk to it, and, pushing it before him, whilst the cannoneers guided it, sent it up the rocky chasm.”

An instance is recorded during the march to Lucknow in 1858, that illustrates the nerve of the elephant under fire, and shows how perfect is their obedience to the mahout. Gen. Outram, desiring to annoy the enemy’s flank, ordered the elephant-battery into line. The guns were soon dismounted; and, as soon as firing commenced, one of the elephants, Kudabar-Moll, was stationed by his mahout, or driver, behind the piece, and in a short time was almost alone, the artillery-men being shot down by the musketry of the enemy. Soon the man that served the shot fell, leaving three men to fire the piece. This they did for a while; the elephant, acting under instructions of his mahout, handing them cartridges from the wagon. As the last shot was loaded, and before it could be fired, two men were killed, and one badly wounded; yet he held up the match to the elephant, who, at his driver’s command, touched it to the vent, and fired the gun, the act being witnessed by a company of infantry that came to the rescue, and ultimately put to flight the opposing force.

In telling this story, it is very tempting to leave the mahout out of the question, which was once done, giving the elephant the entire credit; but it is quite enough that the animal should obey so implicitly under such trying circumstances.

Elephants have been known, innocently of course, to turn the tide of battle; and a story is told in Lahore, India, of a noble old animal who was the standard-bearer in an Indian battle, carrying on his broad back the royal ensign which was the rallying-point of the Poonah host. For some time the huge animal bore the standard in the midst of the fray. Suddenly the enemy made a vigorous charge; and the mahout at the same moment commanding him to halt, the old elephant stood firm, while the opposing force came on. The mahout dropped dead from his back; the men about were routed, turned, and fled; and in a short time the elephant was almost surrounded by the enemy. A moment more, he would have been captured, when a mighty shout rose from the retreating forces. They saw the standard still firm on the elephant’s back; and, refusing to believe they were beaten, with a victorious cry they charged the enemy with such valor that they were swept down like chaff; and the elephant, who still stood like a rock amid the dead and dying, was once more within its own lines, the true victor. The mahout’s last command had been obeyed, and the animal remained like a statue until some one took the dead driver’s place.

In the last centuries, elephants were used much more than at present, and an army camp was an extraordinary sight; curiously enough, the attendants and camp-followers often amounting to ten times the actual fighting-men. When the Marquis Cornwallis took the field in the war with Tippoo, the followers were estimated at one million souls. The number of elephants, compared to the bullocks, horses, and camels, was insignificant; but the rule was fifty elephants to every eight thousand soldiers: and, to give an idea of these astonishing campaigns, I introduce an account by an officer who took part in this one, Lieut. Shipp.

“My post of baggage-master being a situation which is, I believe, peculiar to India, it may not be improper to state its duties. He is a staff-officer, and, when not employed in his particular department, is attached to the suite of the commander of the division as much as the commissary-general, quartermaster-general, or any other staff-officer of the division. On the line of march, he is held entirely responsible that neither men nor baggage precede the column of march, and that they are on their proper flank, which is regulated by the general orders of the day. If the reader recollect what I before stated, that he may safely calculate ten followers in a Bengal army to every fighting-man; and when he is informed, that, according to the calculations made in our camp, including the several native contingencies we had with us, our followers were not less in number than eighty thousand men, women, and children; some thirty thousand following the army for what they could pick up, by fair means or otherwise,—my situation cannot be supposed to have been a sinecure. It was truly one of great labor and activity. I had twenty men belonging to a corps of local horse. These men were provided with long whips, and placed at my disposal. To attempt to talk the numberless camp-followers into obedience was quite out of the question, and, therefore, these whips were for the purpose of lashing them into something like discipline. To the great number of human beings I have spoken of, must be added fifty elephants, six hundred camels, five thousand bullocks, five thousand horses, one thousand ponies, two hundred goats, the same number of sheep, fifty ruts, one hundred palanquins, one hundred dogs, and one hundred hackeries, or carts.”

The elephant in a heavily wooded country is greatly appreciated in time of war; as their huge bodies can crush through the underbrush, trample down the reeds, and make a good road, over which the gun-carriages and teams can be hauled. A writer on an early Burmese war says, “The road lay partly through a thick jungle; but with the aid of three elephants, a passage was forced.” When a bog is met, or roads have been overflowed, making ordinary passage almost impossible, the elephants, under direction of their mahouts, place their heads (the base of the trunk) against the teams, and push them along, or take ropes attached to the gun-carriages between their teeth, and haul them out of the mire.

Capt. Williamson lays much stress upon the importance of the work performed by these animals. “Many of our most arduous military operations have been greatly indebted for their success to the sagacity, patience, and exertion of elephants. Exclusive of their utility in carrying baggage and stores, considerable aid is frequently supplied by the judgment they display, bordering very closely on reason. When cannon require to be extricated from sloughs, the elephant, placing his forehead to the muzzle,—which, when limbered, is the head of the piece,—with an energy scarcely to be conceived, will urge it through a bog, from which hundreds of oxen or horses could not drag it. At other times, lapping his trunk round the cannon, he will lift, while the cattle and men pull forward. The native princes attach an elephant to each cannon, to aid its progress in emergencies. For this purpose, the animal is furnished with a thick leather pad, covering the forehead, to prevent its being injured. It has sometimes happened, that in narrow roads or causeways, or on banks, the soil has given way under heavy cannon; when an elephant, being applied to the falling side, has not only prevented the piece from upsetting, but even aided it forward to a state of security.”

Small howitzers, that can be placed upon the elephant’s back, were not the only guns the animals had to carry. Aurengzebe had cannon in his army which required twenty yoke of oxen, besides elephants, who pushed at the wheels, and hauled.

The patience and fidelity of the elephant when on the march are proverbial, and they can nearly always be depended upon. In the steep passes, or ghauts, of India, the work is often of the most laborious description. An eye-witness thus describes a scene where their pluck and sagacity were put most thoroughly to the test:—

“There was a small ravine branching off from the bed of a dry river, in which our encampment lay, and its entrance looked like the dreary access to some deep cavern. We entered this little gaping cavern, leaving the principal part of our force for the protection of our standing tents and baggage. We were equipped as lightly as possible. Two six-pounders were conveyed on elephants; and our march seemed to lie through the bed of this ravine, which was rocky, and watered by a crystal current, that rippled along its flinty bed. We did not proceed at the rate of more than one or two yards an hour,—ascending and descending every twenty paces; at one time deep sunk in some dark excavation, and shortly afterwards perched upon the summit of a rock, the falling of the numerous cataracts drowning the noise made by our approach.... Our march now became more and more tardy, and the ascents and descents more difficult and intricate. In some places, rocks of gigantic size hung some hundred feet overhead. These sudden and tremendous hills and dales indicated that we could not have far to go; for the last hill was scarcely accessible.... We halted a considerable time,—till broad daylight, when we could see, from where I stood, the soldiers in advance of us, ascending by means of projecting rocks and boughs. We were halted in a kind of basin, surrounded by high hills. In the course of a couple of hours, the whole of the Eighty-seventh Regiment, with our gallant general and suite, ascended this difficult ghaut. From this eminence we could see a great distance; and on every hill we could discern signals, which were communicated from post to post.... What will not good examples effect on the minds of soldiers? Our general walked every yard of this critical march, encouraging his men. The question now was, how to get the guns up, and the powder and shot; but those who are accustomed to wars in India, are not often at a loss for expedients. Having got all the men up, except the rear-guard, the pioneers went to work with their pickaxes, some making a road, and others felling trees. As we were but two regiments, the general’s primary object was to place our little force to the best advantage. This accomplished, the guns were our next object. Having cut a good deal of the most prominent part of the hill away, and lain trees on the ascent as a footing for the elephants, these animals were made to approach it, which the first did with some reluctance and fear. He looked up, shook his head, and, when forced by his driver, roared piteously. There can be no question, in my opinion, that this sagacious animal was competent instinctively to judge of the practicability of the artificial flight of steps thus constructed; for, the moment some little alterations had been made, he seemed willing to approach. He then commenced his examination and scrutiny, by pressing with his trunk the trees that had been thrown across; and after this he put his fore-leg on, with great caution, raising the fore-part of his body so as to throw its weight on the tree. This done, he seemed satisfied as to its stability. The next step for him to ascend by, was a projecting rock, which we could not remove. Here the same sagacious examinations took place, the elephant keeping his flat side close to the side of the bank, and leaning against it. The next step was against a tree; but this, on the first pressure of his trunk, he did not like. Here his driver made use of the most endearing epithets, such as ‘wonderful, my life,’ ‘my wife;’ but all these endearing appellations, of which elephants are so fond, would not induce him to try again. Force was at length resorted to; and the elephant roared terrifically, but would not move. Something was then removed; he seemed satisfied, as before: and he in time ascended that stupendous ghaut. On his reaching the top, his delight was visible in a most eminent degree: he caressed his keepers, and threw the dirt about in a most playful manner. Another elephant, a much younger animal, was now to follow. He had watched the ascent of the other with the most intense interest, making motions all the while, as though he was assisting him by shouldering him up the acclivity,—such gestures as I have seen some men make when spectators of gymnastic exercises. When he saw his comrade up, he evinced his pleasure by giving a salute something like the sound of a trumpet. When called upon to take his turn, however, he seemed much alarmed, and would not act at all without force. When he was two steps up, he slipped, but recovered himself by digging his toes in the earth. With the exception of this little accident, he ascended exceedingly well. When this elephant was near the top, the other, who had already performed his task, extended his trunk to the assistance of his brother in distress, round which the younger animal intwined his, and thus reached the summit of the ghaut in safety. Having both accomplished their task, their greeting was as cordial as if they had been long separated from each other, and had just escaped from some perilous achievement. They mutually embraced each other, and stood face to face for a considerable time, as if whispering congratulations. Their driver then made them salaam to the general, who ordered them five rupees each for sweetmeats. On this reward of their merit being ordered, they immediately returned thanks by another salaam.”

The British forces in India during a war rarely put elephants into the field for active service, the animals being too conspicuous, and too valuable to risk. But with the Burmese, this was different; they were prodigal of their elephants. During a Burmese war, a garrison of infantry and cavalry marched out with seventeen war elephants, fully caparisoned, and bearing a number of armed men. They advanced upon a fort amid a murderous fire, which killed the men upon them, and their mahouts; but in no case did an elephant lose its head. They stood the fire steadily until their mahouts were shot; and then, feeling themselves unrestrained, they slowly and calmly walked back to their fort, their bravery and courage being greatly admired by the opposing force.

In the last half-century, in any revolt, or where Indian native troops have been brought against the English, elephants have been rarely used; experience showing that their slow movements render them unfit for valuable or active service in the field.

Perhaps the last time they were seen in their former grandeur was in the war of Coromandel, when the British were fighting the native chiefs. The latter came out on some occasions equipped like the old Mogul emperors, to be described later on. The nabob of Arcot and his famous rival, Chundasaheb, both came upon the field on elephants; and had not a French bullet put an end to the former, a duel by these potentates would have been witnessed. As soon as the nabob caught sight of his rival’s elephant, bedecked with its owner’s standard, he became furious, and offered his mahout a valuable reward if he would make his elephant overthrow that of his enemy, who was the author of his defeat. The mahout was urging the elephant on, when a bullet struck the nabob in the heart, and he fell from the howdah. Soon after this tragic event, Nazir-jing, a son of the Mogul, entered the Carnatic with a most imposing force,—a battalion of thirteen hundred elephants, three hundred thousand soldiers, and eight hundred pieces of cannon. He, too, was shot from his elephant.

An elephant duel was observed in the field between Murzafa-jing, the Soubah of the Carnatic, and the nabob of Canoul. The elephants of the rivals were urged toward each other by the mahouts; and Murzafa-jing raised his sword to strike, when his adversary thrust his javelin, which pierced his forehead, killing him on the spot. At the same instant, at least a thousand bullets were fired at the nabob, who also fell, mortally wounded, from his elephant.

The introduction of fire-arms into warfare was the cause of the withdrawal of the elephant from active field-work. The great creature was too prominent a target, and the men upon its back were the most conspicuous objects in the field. It was a long time, however, before the natives would give up this animal, so strong was custom. From its back, the old generals directed their warriors and the movements of the battle; and, when the elephant left the field, it was usually a sign that a retreat had been ordered, and rout generally followed.

In the battle in which Aurengzebe gained the victory over Dara, he ordered his elephant’s legs to be chained, so that he could not retreat. Bernier tells this story as follows:—

“Calil-ullah had suffered some indignity at the hands of Dara, and he considered the hour arrived when he might gratify the resentment which had never ceased to rankle in his bosom. His abstinence from all share in the battle did not, however, produce the mischief intended, Dara having proved victorious without the co-operation of the right wing. The traitor, therefore, had recourse to another expedient. He quitted his division, followed by a few persons; and riding with speed towards Dara, precisely at the same moment when that prince was hastening to assist in the downfall of Morud-Bakche, he exclaimed, while yet at some distance, ‘Mohbarek bad! Hazaret! Salamet! Elhamd-ul-ellah! May you be happy! May your Majesty enjoy health, and reign in safety! The victory is your own! But let me ask, why are you still mounted on this lofty elephant? Have you not been sufficiently exposed to danger? If one of the numberless arrows or balls, which have pierced your canopy, had touched your person, who can imagine the dreadful situation to which we should be reduced? In Heaven’s name, descend quickly, and mount your horse: nothing now remains but to pursue the fugitives with vigor. I entreat your Majesty, permit them not to escape.’

“Had Dara considered the consequences of quitting the back of his elephant, on which he had displayed so much valor, and served as a rallying-point of the army, he would have become master of the empire; but the credulous prince, duped by the artful obsequiousness of Calil-ullah, listened to his advice as though it had been sincere. He descended from the elephant, and mounted his horse; but a quarter of an hour had not elapsed, when, suspecting the imposture, he inquired impatiently for Calil-ullah. The villain was not, however, within his reach; he inveighed vehemently against that officer, and threatened him with death; but Dara’s rage was now impotent, and his menace incapable of being executed. The troops having missed their prince, a rumor quickly spread that he was killed, and the army betrayed; a universal panic seized them; every man thought only of his own safety, and how to escape from the resentment of Aurengzebe. In a few minutes the army seemed disbanded, and (strange and sudden reverse!) the conqueror became the vanquished. Aurengzebe remained for a quarter of an hour steadily on his elephant, and was rewarded with the crown of Hindostan. Dara left his own elephant a few minutes too soon, and was hurled from the pinnacle of glory to be numbered among the most miserable of princes.”

The younger brother of Dara, the famous Sultan Sujah, lost his empire in an almost identical manner, or owing to the elephant being a rallying-point. A French engineer raised the siege of Daman by an ingenious device. They had a large supply of fireworks, principally rockets; and, sallying forth, they fired them in among Aurengzebe’s elephants, causing them to turn on their own troops, creating the greatest confusion and an ultimate rout.

In the old Mogul empire, the armor of elephants called to mind that used in the age of chivalry. The elephants of Akbar wore plates of massive iron upon their foreheads; while the king of Ternassery, who was famous for his enormous elephants, all being selected, like the Swiss Guard, for their great size, had his animals covered completely with armor made of beef-hides, which were fastened beneath the stomach with heavy chains. The “Ayeen Akbery” (a native work) “is more minute. ‘Five plates of iron, each one cubit long and four fingers broad, are joined together by rings, and fastened round the ears of the elephant by four chains, each an ell in length; and betwixt these another chain passes over the head, and is fastened in the kellawah; and across it are four iron spikes, with katasses and iron knobs. There are other chains, with iron spikes and knobs, hung under the throat and over the breast, and others fastened to the trunk: these are for ornament, and to frighten horses. Pakher is a kind of steel armor that covers the body of the elephant: there are other pieces of it for the head and proboscis. Gejjhemp is a covering made of three folds, and is laid over the pakher.’ Dow adds, that ‘a sword is bound to their trunk, and daggers are fastened to their tusks.’ But the mighty power of the animal in crushing the ranks of an enemy was principally relied upon. The armor and the swords were to add to the dismay which an immense troop of elephants were of themselves calculated to produce. The emperor of Akbar well knew their power in scattering masses of terrified men. On one occasion, when he stormed the fort of Chitar, the garrison retired to the temples. ‘Akbar, perceiving he must lose a great number of his troops in case of a close attack, ordered a distant fire to be kept up upon the desperate Rajaputs, till he had introduced three hundred elephants of war, which he immediately ordered to advance to tread them to death. The scene now became too shocking to be described. Brave men, rendered more valiant by despair, crowded around the elephants, seized them even by the tusks, and inflicted upon them unavailing wounds. The terrible animals trod the Indians like grasshoppers under their feet, or, winding them in their powerful trunks, tossed them aloft into the air, or dashed them against the walls and pavements. Of the garrison, which consisted of eight thousand soldiers and of forty thousand inhabitants, thirty thousand were slain, and most of the rest taken prisoners.’ In the rapid marches of this victorious prince, the elephants suffered greatly. Purchas, speaking of his progress from Kashmire in 1597, says, ‘This country he left when summer was past, and returned to Lahore, losing many elephants and horses in the way, both by famine, then oppressing the country, and the difficulty of the passages; the elephants sometimes, in the ascent of the hills, helping themselves with their trunks, leaning and staying themselves, being burthened, thereon, as on a staff.’”

The terror which elephants produced on foot-soldiers was well appreciated three centuries ago, and victory was generally gained by the side that possessed the greatest number of these animals. The fear of elephants was the greatest difficulty the famous adventurer Timour had to deal with when on his victorious march through Persia, Siberia, and Russia. His men replied to his war-speeches, “We may subdue Hind; yet it hath many ramparts, rivers, wildernesses, and forests; soldiers clad in armor; and the elephants, the destroyers of men.”

When the army arrived upon the plains in front of Delhi, he had to take the most extraordinary precautions to prevent this morbid fear from resulting in a rout. An enormous ditch was built around the camp, to prevent an inroad of invading elephants. Buffaloes were tied together by the neck, and arranged about the ramparts, and their horns bedecked with rushes, while men were stationed to set them on fire at the first approach of the terrible elephants. What would have been the effect of this conflagration on the unfortunate bullocks, imagination can picture. The opposing force to Timour in this battle (A.D. 1399) was the Sultan Mamood, and the remarkable armament of his elephants was certainly enough to strike terror to the boldest heart. His army consisted of ten thousand horse, forty thousand foot-soldiers, and elephants. The latter were arrayed in armor, and mounted with bastions filled with men armed with crossbows. Their tusks were elongated with poisoned daggers; and on scaffolds hung to the sides stood armed men, bearing fire and melted pitch and iron-pointed rockets to hurl and throw at the enemy. As this army marched forward, the men upon their backs beating kettledrums, cymbals, bells, and trumpets, the brave followers of Timour fell back, utterly demoralized, before the appalling sight; and the commander himself fell upon his knees in prayer,—a characteristic one: “As my vast conquests have caused the destruction of a great number of God’s creatures, I have resolved to atone for the crimes of my past life by exterminating the infidels of China.” In some way the Delhi elephants threw their own left wing into disorder. Timour’s horsemen rushed forward; and the elephants, demoralized at their sabre-cuts, fled in great confusion, while the sharp weapons aimed at their trunks left many upon the field. As the great animals fled, Timour’s men saw that the elephants were not invincible, and, rushing to the front, completed the disastrous rout. Timour’s grandson, a boy of fifteen, made himself conspicuous by attacking and wounding an elephant, overthrowing its riders, and driving the huge animal into his grandfather’s camp. The day following the battle of Delhi, Timour sat upon the throne of the Indian monarch, and a procession of twelve rhinoceroses and one hundred and twenty captive elephants were paraded before him; and afterwards sent as presents to the Persian provinces; while the unfortunate people were slaughtered by his soldiers.

Elephants were not always demoralized in these wars; and in another battle this same conqueror had the front of his army protected by a line of elephants, their towers filled with archers and Greek fire-flingers. At the word of command they started forward, their drivers ordering them to coil their trunks so that the sabres of the Mamelukes could not reach them.

The Syrians fled before them, and were crushed under foot; others were hurled forty or fifty feet into the air; the defeat being complete, and chiefly due to the elephants.

Timour’s curious experiment of adopting elephants in warfare, after he had witnessed their demoralization, was not without precedent, as Kublai Khan and Alexander did the same. Marco Polo gives a clear idea of the way elephants were used in battle:—

“It happened, that, in the year 1272, the Grand Khan sent an army into the countries of Vochang and Karazan, for their protection and defence against any attack that foreigners might attempt to make.... When the King of Mien and Bangala in India, who was powerful in the number of his subjects, in extent of territory, and in wealth, heard that an army of Tartars had arrived at Vochang, he took the resolution of advancing immediately to attack it, in order that by its destruction the Grand Khan should be deterred from again attempting to station a force upon the borders of his dominions. For this purpose he assembled a very large army, including a multitude of elephants (an animal with which his country abounds), upon whose backs were placed battlements, or castles, of wood, capable of containing the number of from twelve to sixteen in each. With these, and a numerous army of horse and foot, he took the road to Vochang, where the Grand Khan’s army lay, and, encamping at no great distance from it, intended to give his troops a few days of rest. The King of Mien, learning that the Tartars had descended into the plain, immediately put his army in motion, took up his ground at the distance of about a mile from the enemy, and made a disposition of his force, placing the elephants in the front, and the cavalry and infantry in two extended wings in their rear, but leaving between them a considerable interval. Here he took his own station, and proceeded to animate his men, and encouraging them to fight valiantly, assuring them of victory, as well from the superiority of their numbers, being four to one, as from their formidable body of armed elephants, whose shock the enemy, who had never before been engaged with such combatants, could by no means resist. Then, giving orders for sounding a prodigious number of warlike instruments, he advanced boldly with his whole army towards that of the Tartars, which remained firm, making no movement, but suffering them to approach their intrenchments. They then rushed out with great spirit and the utmost eagerness to engage; but it was soon found that the Tartar horses, unused to the sight of such huge animals, with their castles, were terrified, and, wheeling about, endeavored to fly, nor could their riders by any exertions restrain them; whilst the king, with the whole of his forces, was every moment gaining ground. As soon as the prudent commander perceived this unexpected disorder, without losing his presence of mind, he instantly adopted the measure of ordering his men to dismount, and their horses to be taken into the wood, where they were fastened to the trees. Being dismounted, the men, without loss of time, advanced on foot towards the line of elephants, and commenced a brisk discharge of arrows: whilst, on the other side, those who were stationed in the castles, and the rest of the king’s army, shot volleys in return, with great activity; but their arrows did not make the same impression as those of the Tartars, whose bows were drawn with a stronger arm. So incessant were the discharges of the latter, and all their weapons (according to the instructions of their commander) being directed against the elephants, these were soon covered with arrows, and, suddenly giving way, fell back upon their own people in the rear, who were thereby thrown into confusion. It soon became impossible for their drivers to manage them, either by force or address. Smarting under the pain of their wounds, and terrified by the shouting of the assailants, they were no longer governable, but, without guidance or control, ran about in all directions, until at length, impelled by rage and fear, they rushed into a part of the wood not occupied by the Tartars. The consequence of this was, that, from the closeness of the brandies of large trees, they broke, with loud crashes, the battlements, or castles, that were upon their backs, and involved in the destruction those who sat upon them. Upon seeing the rout of the elephants, the Tartars acquired fresh courage; and filing off by detachments, with perfect order and regularity, they remounted their horses, and joined their several divisions, when a sanguinary and dreadful combat was renewed. The battle ended in a complete victory.”

Perhaps the most remarkable displays of elephants were those of Kublai Khan. In an old cut before me, he is shown as he appeared on his elephants, after he had conquered his unfortunate relative, Nazam, and smothered him between two carpets. He is represented in a large wooden castle, which rests upon four large tuskers, whose bodies, according to Dow, were protected with coverings of thick leather hardened by fire, over which were housings of cloth of gold. The castle contained many crossbow men and archers; and on the top of it was hoisted the imperial standard, adorned with representations of the sun and moon.

In his invasions into Hindostan, in the eleventh century, Mamood of Ghizni employed a magnificent army of thirteen hundred elephants. Dow thus describes his battle with the King of Kaslegar:—

“Mamood, perceiving the enemy’s progress, leaped from his horse, and, kissing the ground, invoked the aid of the Almighty. He instantly mounted an elephant-of-war, encouraged his troops, and made a violent assault upon Elich. The elephant, seizing the standard-bearer of the enemy, folded round him his trunk, and tossed him aloft into the sky. He then pressed forward like a mountain removed from its place by an earthquake, and trod the enemy like locusts under his feet. When Mamood invested Callinger, the rájah of that city sued for peace, and offered him three thousand elephants and other presents. The Indian prince probably considered that his enemy might be unacquainted with the habits of the animal; and he, therefore, ventured upon an experiment, not very likely to conciliate the rough hero of Turquestan. The king (Mamood) agreed to the terms proposed; and the raja, to try the bravery of the sultan’s troops, intoxicated the elephants with certain drugs, and let them loose, without riders, in the camp. Mamood, seeing the animals advancing, perceived the trick, by the wildness of their motions, and immediately ordered a party of his best horse to seize, kill, and drive them from the camp. Some of the Turks, emulous to display their bravery in the presence of their king and of both armies, mounted the greatest part of the elephants, and drove the rest into an adjacent wood, where they were soon reduced to obedience.”

In the Book of Maccabees, there is an interesting passage describing the armor of elephants, and their use in the wars of Asia after the conquest of India:—

“To the end they might provoke the elephants to fight, they shewed them the blood of grapes and mulberries. Moreover, they divided the beasts among the armies, and for every elephant they appointed a thousand men, armed with coats of mail, and with helmets of brass on their heads; and beside this, for every beast were ordered five hundred horsemen of the best. These were ready at every occasion: wheresoever the beast was, and whithersoever the beast went, they went also, neither departed they from him. And upon the beasts were there strong towers of wood, which covered every one of them, and were girt fast unto them with devices: there were also upon every one thirty-two strong men, that fought upon him, beside the Indian that ruled him.”

These are but a few selections from many, showing the importance of the elephant in comparatively modern times. And when we remember what an imposing appearance twenty elephants, the largest number ever seen in America together, make, we can imagine the scene when over a thousand of these huge beasts were arranged in line, each clad in armor, and bearing armed warriors.