their forces. After an unequal contest, in which the Mongols seem to have made a strenuous resistance, the relics of this army were compelled to surrender. While the lives of the Chinese and Coreans were spared, all the Mongols were put to the sword, and very few escaped to tell Kublai the mournful tidings of the greatest disaster which had ever befallen his arms or those of any of his race.

It was no part of the Mongol character to acquiesce in defeat. Their enterprises had on some previous occasions been checked, and not succeeded to the full measure of their hopes; but they had always returned in greater force to complete what they had been compelled to leave half finished. Brought face to face with a new and formidable element, the determination of the race was of a sufficiently practical kind to recognize that no advantage could be gained by rushing blindfold against an obstacle that defied their utmost effort, and the common sense of the Mongols revolted against the resumption of an operation that was seen to be most costly and unlikely to result in anything save discomfiture and disappointment. But Kublai was only a mortal, and the spectacle of his shattered vessels and his slaughtered thousands appealed to him strongly for revenge. What had been merely the prompting of ambition now presented itself to him with all the force of a sacred duty. A Mongol had never yet acquiesced in the immutability of defeat. Was it reserved for the proud Kublai to be the first to make so important a departure from the accepted policy and traditions of his race and House?

During the following years Kublai made energetic preparations towards repairing this defeat, and in A.D. 1283 he had, with the assistance of the Corean king, equipped a fresh fleet for this service; but he found greater difficulty in procuring sailors to man it. Several mutinies, which assumed alarming proportions, arose from the dislike generally prevailing to embark on this voyage; and Kublai's plans advanced very slowly towards realization. At last, in A.D. 1286, after a sharp protest from the President of the Council, Lieousiuen, Kublai gave orders for the abandonment of all further designs upon Japan. Bitter as the decision must have

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been to this haughty ruler, it was resolved that no fresh preparations should be made for the retrieval of the late defeat, and that the brave islanders of Japan should be left to enjoy the liberty which they had shown they knew how to defend. The Mongols might well rest satisfied with what they had accomplished, although, like many great continental peoples, they had to confess on the sea a superior in a race of freeborn islanders, inferior in numbers, and also in the science and machinery of war. It will be seen that their successful defence inspired the Japanese with a spirit of aggression, and that they became at a later period the assailants in a struggle with the inhabitants of the mainland.

The conquest of Yunnan by Kublai at an earlier stage in his career, and the subsequent successes of Uriangkadai, had led to the institution of relations with the rulers and peoples of the Indo-Chinese peninsula. Several of these had been reduced to a state of more or less dependence upon the Mongol general in that region; but the principal of them, the King of Mien or Burmah, who arrogated to himself the title of King of Bengal as well, was inveterately hostile and defiant. While the Sung dominions remained only partly subdued, the Mongols were unable to act with any vigour in this quarter, and sought to obtain by diplomacy the recognition of their authority by the sovereign of Mien. But this potentate, trusting in his wealth, the numbers of his people, and the extent of his dominions from the borders of Yunnan to the Gulf of Bengal, if not to the Gangetic Delta, haughtily refused to abate one jot of his authority. He would be an independent prince or nothing.

The Mongol garrisons in Yunnan were, therefore, reduced to the lowest possible limits in order that an active force might be placed in the field; and when the King of Mien crossed the frontier at the head of a large army, he found the Mongols drawn up to receive him on the plains of Yungchang. The numbers were greatly in favour of the Mien ruler, who had not only a large body of cavalry, but, like another Pyrrhus, had brought into the field a strong contingent of elephants. The Burmese army exceeded fifty thousand men, and included, according to one authority eight hundred,

according to another two thousand, elephants; whereas, at the highest estimate, the Mongols mustered no more than twelve thousand men in all. The Burmese possessed also an artillery force of sixteen guns. Despite, therefore, the wellknown valour and great military qualities of the Mongols, the result of this battle appeared to be more than doubtful when the two armies halted in face of each other. The struggle proved long and bitterly contested. The superiority of the Burmese in cavalry, added to the advantage they possessed in their corps of elephants-manned with artillery and slingers-gave an impetuosity to their first attack which Kublai's soldiers were unable to resist. The Mongol commander had foreseen this result, and had provided against it. Dismounting his cavalry, he ordered his whole force to direct their arrows upon that part of the Burmese battle which was composed of the elephants. Before this hailstorm, for the Mongols were then incomparably the best archers in the world (although the age which we are accustomed to think of as the golden period of English archery-when the traditions of Robin Hood preserved their force, and when the bowmen turned the day at Cressy and Poictiers), the onset of the elephants was speedily checked and thrown into confusion, and these infuriated animals rushed through the ranks of the Burmese, carrying confusion in their train. The Mongols then remounted their horses and completed the effect of this panic by charging the main body of the enemy. The latter were driven with heavy loss from the field, and the Mongols brought the campaign to a brilliant conclusion by the capture of several towns on the Irrawaddi. The Mongol general was compelled by the heat of the weather to withdraw his troops to the cooler quarters of Northern Yunnan, leaving the Burmese king with a shattered reputation, but still untouched and practically secure in the interior of his dominions. The Mongols only retired with the determination that they would return to complete their triumph, and the local commander, Nasiuddin, sent a report to Kublai that it would be an easy matter to add the dominions of the King of Mien to his Empire.

Six years after this campaign, in which the Mongols fully

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sustained their military reputation, Kublai sanctioned preparations for the invasion of the dominions of the King of Mien. He entrusted the principal command to Singtur, one of his most trusted generals and a member of the Royal House; and a large army was concentrated in Yunnan for the purposes of this war. The Burmese troops were defeated in several encounters, and the capital Mien, or Amien, was closely besieged. The king had made preparations for a protracted defence, but apparently his heart failed him, for after the siege had continued a few days he sought safety in flight. The Mongols followed up their successes by its capture, and by a triumphant advance to the neighbourhood of Prome. They carried their raids into Pegu, and received the submission of several of the tribes of the Assam frontier. Thus were the Mongol campaigns against the Burmese brought to a conclusive and successful issue; and the authority of Kublai became as firmly established in this remote south-western quarter as it was in any other portion of his wide-stretching dominions.

Almost at the same time as this war in Burmah troubles arose with the ruler of Chenching, a portion of the modern Tonquin. In A.D. 1278, after the final overthrow of the Sungs, this prince had recognized the Mongol supremacy, and had for several years sent tribute to Canton. But on his death his heir refused to hold further intercourse with the Mongols, and, gathering the braver spirits of the country. round him, resolved to resist all attempt at encroachment on the part of his neighbours. Sotou, the Mongol commander at Canton, apprehensive lest the danger should assume larger proportions, resolved to adopt vigorous measures against this defiant prince. Sotou's force compelled these patriots to take refuge in the hills, but when the Mongols attempted to carry on the war in their fastnesses they experienced a decided check. One detachment was destroyed and cut to pieces in a defile, whilst Sotou's main body was roughly handled and compelled to beat a hasty retreat from before a stockaded position. Kublai was very much distressed by these reverses, and sent fresh troops from his capital, under the command of Togan, one of his sons. The increased interest displayed in

this insignificant contest did not, however, produce any greater or more fortunate result.

Westwards of Chenching was the state of Annam, which had also bowed to the Mongol yoke, but the discomfiture of Sotou had restored the sinking confidence of all these southern potentates, and when the Mongols recommenced their advance against Chenching the King of Annam had resolved to repudiate his allegiance to them and to throw in his lot with his neighbours. When, therefore, Togan's army, which had been joined by Sotou's forces, reached the frontier of Annam, it found, instead of the supplies and welcome upon which it had counted, an army drawn up to dispute its further march. The troops of Annam were ill able to cope with Kublai's trained soldiers in regular warfare. The Mongols crossed the river Fouleang on a bridge of boats in face of the Annam army, and drove their adversaries in confusion from their positions. The Annamites retreated, but continued to show a good front, and they possessed an invaluable ally in their climate. The heat and the damp proved more formidable to Togan's army than the valour or skill of these defenders of their country; and after a resolute attempt to force his way to Chenching, Kublai's son found himself compelled to order a retreat. The Mongols appear to have lost all sense of discipline as soon as their backs were turned to the foe. Ignorant of the country, they wandered from their course, and only a few detachments regained the province of Kwantung. Liheng, Togan's principal lieutenant, was slain by a poisoned arrow in one battle, and Sotou fell fighting, sword in hand, when attempting to force his way over the Kien Moankiang river. Togan escaped to bear in person the sad tidings to Kublai. In A.D. 1286, Kublai wished to despatch a fresh army against Annam, and even went so far as to give orders to Alihaya, one of his chosen generals, who had been engaged in exploring the upper course of the Hoangho, to proceed to the scene of war. But the representations of the Chinese minister, Lieousiuen, again prevailed. The terrors of the hot and humid climate of Annam had been found, and were now admitted to be not less real and formidable than the hurricanes of the storm-tossed shores of Japan; and