inconstancy of his neighbours with a renewal of the old disorders.

There is no violation of probability in supposing that Amursana, knowing something of the views of his host on the subject of the Eleuths, lost no opportunity of impressing on him the advantage of taking up his cause, and of how easily he might effect a solution of the whole question by restoring him to a position of supreme authority over the territories from which he had been expelled by Davatsi. Keen Lung listened to the narrative of his guest, but might have refrained from having recourse to action, despite the specious arguments and flowing rhetoric of the Eleuth prince, had not the disturbances on the frontier been suddenly aggravated by the defiant attitude and arrogance of Davatsi.

That chief, not content with the recovery of his position, when reduced to the verge of extremity, or with his second triumph over an inconvenient and dangerous rival, imagined that he had nothing to fear from either the indignation or the power of China, and that no evil consequences would ensue if he were to openly proclaim his independence. The tie which bound these tributary states to China had never been very exacting. It was a question more of sentiment than of any practical importance, and the Chinese Emperor required little more than respectful sentences, and the recognition of a paramount authority which was seldom exerted. Davatsi thought to heighten his reputation by a cheap defiance of established precedent, and he sent an embassy into China with messages of friendship indeed, but couched in language only used by sovereigns of equal rank. This slight to his dignity roused the indignation of Keen Lung, who at once denounced Davatsi as a "traitor and usurper." Then only did the Emperor enter heartily into the schemes and proposals of Amursana, the support of whose cause seemed to offer the easiest and most efficacious way of restoring the suzerainty of China over the kingdoms and states in Central Asia.

Keen Lung's military preparations were commensurate with the importance of the undertaking, and worthy also of the loftiness of his position. One hundred and fifty

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thousand men, including the picked soldiers of the Manchu banners and of the Solon contingent, were placed in the field, and Amursana received a seal of rank and the title of Great General. Although thus placed in a position of recognized authority, the actual command was entrusted to the Manchu general Panti, who enjoyed the reputation of being the best of living Chinese commanders. The ostensible task with which Keen Lung charged this army was to repress the insolent Davatsi, and to elevate to his place the injured Amursana.

The success which attended this great enterprise was unexampled both in its extent and in the rapidity with which it was attained. Five months sufficed to enable this large army to cross the desert, and to penetrate to the recesses of the Ili region where Davatsi indulged a belief as to his security. Little or no resistance was attempted. Davatsi's power crumbled to pieces at the first contact with the Manchu legions, and the chief himself was conveyed as a state prisoner to Pekin. Keen Lung says, in his brilliantly composed description of the campaign, "Confident of marching to victory, they broke cheerfully through every obstacle; they arrive, terror had gone before them. Scarcely had they time to bend a bow, or draw an arrow, when everything submits to them. They give the law, Davatsi is a prisoner, he is sent into my presence."

Thus, by the aid of a Chinese army, Amursana recovered what he represented, though with doubtful accuracy, to be his birthright; and, finding himself in the possession of the privileges to which he had long aspired, he gave reins to his imagination and placed less curb upon his ambition. Great as had been Amursana's success, it did not suffice to render him contented with the position to which the friendship of Keen Lung had raised him. The larger portion of the Chinese army had returned after the overthrow of Davatsi, but Panti remained with a small contingent, partly to give stability to Amursana's position, and partly to uphold the interests of the Emperor. Amursana considered that the presence of this force detracted from, more than it enhanced, the dignity of his position. It became his main object to

rid himself from it, hoping that with its departure or disappearance he would also be freed from the control of the Chinese Government and officials, which he was inclined to regard as almost intolerable. It soon became clear that the harmony of the relations between the Eleuth prince and the Chinese general was irretrievably broken, and that the existence of their respective authorities was incompatible with each other. The rupture was for a short time averted by Amursana's designs upon the independence of Kashgaria, for the success of which he needed further assistance from the Chinese. That assistance was granted only with reluctance, but still the loan of 500 Chinese troops sufficed to bring the cities of Yarkand and Kashgar under the subjection of Barhanuddin Khoja, who held his authority as the friend and dependent of Amursana. This further success confirmed Amursana in the favourable estimate he had formed of his own capacity and strength, and rendered him less disposed than ever to play a secondary part in his native kingdom. He aspired with more determination than before to exercise unquestioned authority.

Rumours of Amursana's dissatisfaction reached Pekin; and Keen Lung, distrustful of the good faith of the Eleuth prince, summoned him to his capital. This step compelled Amursana to take a decided part and to declare his intentions sooner, perhaps, than he intended. His reply was emphatic and extreme enough to please the greatest admirers of uncompromising resolution. He surprised the small Chinese contingent, massacred every man of them, and caused Panti and the other officers to be executed. Thus, by the slaughter of his allies and supporters, did Amursana hope to gain that supreme and independent position in Central Asia to which he had aspired from the first days of his public career, and with which the recognition of Keen Lung's authority appeared in his eyes to be incompatible.

The fruits of Keen Lung's labours and military success were thus as rapidly destroyed as they had been attained. Five months of the year 1755 had sufficed to give tranquillity to Central Asia, and to replace a hostile potentate by one reputed to be a friend. And now, by another turn in the

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wheel of events, the old sense of insecurity and uncertainty was revived, and an ambitious and defiant prince grasped the reins of power among a warlike population. The change had been effected in the most open and unequivocal manner, and Amursana thought he had ensured his success by the slaughter of the Chinese garrison and its commanders.

The impression produced by this event was profound, and when Amursana followed up the blow by spreading about rumours of the magnitude of his designs they obtained some credence even among the Mongols. Encouraged by this success, he sought to rally those tribes to his side by imputing sinister intentions to Keen Lung. His emissaries declared that Keen Lung wished to deprive them all of their rank, authority, and estates, and that he had summoned Amursana to Pekin only for the purpose of deposing him. They also protested that their master, Amursana, like a true desert chief, preferred his liberty to every other privilege, and, sooner than trust himself within the toils of the wily Emperor, had bidden him defiance, and raised between them. an inexpiable cause of hostility. Amursana proclaimed himself King of the Eleuths, and many of the clans gave in their adhesion to his rule and promised to support him in war.

If the shock caused by the news of the great disaster on the banks of the Ili gave a little confidence to those who were unfriendly to the Manchu authority, it also roused Keen Lung's indignation to the highest point. The sense of disappointment at the failure of his plans was increased all the more by the memory of the easy victory which had both flattered his vanity and attained his aims. There were those among his ministers who impressed upon him the wisdom of discontinuing a costly war, of which the results among a turbulent and treacherous population would always be doubtful. "We must have done with this useless and disastrous war," they exclaimed in the palace and at the council-board. But Keen Lung did not allow himself for a moment to be swayed by their advice. The blood of his slaughtered soldiers called for a summary revenge, the objects of his policy demanded that Amursana should be deposed from the position of defiance and independence which he had assumed,

and the reputation of China rendered it absolutely imperative that a reverse suffered in the field should be as openly and as signally retrieved. For each and all of these reasons Keen Lung rejected the counsels of the timid, whose natural courage, as the Emperor said, should have led them to reject their own advice as unworthy of their race and country.

Keen Lung made, therefore, the necessary preparations for another campaign beyond the frontier, and sent two generals, at the head of a large army, with orders to capture the rebel Amursana dead or alive. Amursana was in no position to resist this force, and many of his adherents deserted him at the first approach of the Chinese. Amursana himself was on the point of being taken when the disagreement of Keen Lung's two commanders provided him with an avenue of escape. The inaction of these officers, after the dispersion of their opponent's forces had gained them a bloodless victory, enabled the Eleuth prince to make fresh head against the invader. Keen Lung lays all the blame for the small results of this campaign on the apathy of his generals, whom he recalled to Pekin. His intention was to execute them for their misconduct in the field, but during their journey back they were surprised and slain by a band of Eleuths. Two other generals were appointed to take their places, but they did no better than their predecessors. Keen Lung had to thank the incapacity of his officers for a second abortive campaign. Amursana, it is true, was compelled to lead a perilous existence among the Kirghiz tribes; but so long as he survived or remained at large there could be no assurance of peace in the Central Asian region. Keen Lung attributed the escape of his foe to the negligence of his generals, who were a second time recalled and, on this occasion, executed.

The nature of their offence appears to have been that they placed too much confidence in the promises of the Kirghiz. Taltanga, one of these generals, was on the eve of entering their country, when he allowed himself to be dissuaded from doing so by their pledge to surrender Amursana on the return of one of their chiefs. The Mongol contingent, disgusted by the credulity of their commander, or wearied by a