Yakoob Beg's chief claim to our consideration is that,
for more than twelve years, he gave a settled government
to a large portion of Central Asia, and that, however
faulty his external policy may have been in critical
moments, his internal management was founded on a
practical and sufficiently just basis. As a warrior he
had done much to justify admiration, and had proved
on many a well-fought field, and in many a desperate
encounter, his claims to be considered a fearless and
resolute soldier; but in this quality he was equalled, if
not excelled, by his own lieutenant, Abdulla Beg, the
Murat of Kashgar, while some of the deeds of his son,
Beg Bacha, will rank in daring and surpass in ferocity
anything achieved by the Athalik Ghazi. But in
capacity for administration Yakoob Beg far surpassed
his contemporaries, and the merit of his success was
enhanced, not so much by the originality of the method
adopted, as by the unique vigour and perseverance with
which it was put into force. The secret of his power
can only be discovered by constantly bearing in mind
the fact that he had constituted himself the champion
of the Mahomedan religion in Central Asia. The
Ameers of Bokhara and Afghanistan might trifle with
the seductive promises of the Russians, and might consent
to sacrifice the interests of their religion for a
transitory advancement of their worldly possessions;
but to such degradations the Athalik Ghazi—true
"champion father" as he was—never stooped. With
whatever imaginary power the sympathy and good-will
of the Mahomedan peoples of Turkestan may have
clothed this ruler, there is no question that his attitude
towards the Muscovite would have warranted the
assertion of greater power than was ever attributed to
him; and the secret of this delusion, an attitude of
defiant strength without any solid foundation for so
bold a course, can only be unravelled by remembering
that the Athalik Ghazi strove to represent, not so
much Kashgaria, as the whole Mahomedan world of
Central Asia. The necessities of his own position,
when, having conquered Kashgar, he found that he
had aroused the susceptibilities of the Russians, compelled
him to seek in every direction for aid, and to
have recourse to every artifice for increasing his
strength, or its semblance, in order to avoid the dissolution
of his state and a subjection to the Czar. So
well did he succeed in his efforts, and so prompt were
his movements and so fearless his attitude, that the
Russians were deluded into a belief—which was, as we
emphatically insist, unfounded—that Kashgar would
prove a more formidable antagonist than either Bokhara,
or Khokand, or Khiva.
The interior management of a state, which, young
in years, yet seemed to tower among its fellows, might
be supposed to be a very interesting topic to dilate
upon; but on this subject there is less direct evidence
than could be wished. Even Sir Douglas Forsyth, in
his official report, is not able to throw as much light as
is desired on the inner working of the administrative
system of Yakoob Beg. Still, such as it is, with the
exception of the Russian writer, Gregorieff, he is the
only authority on the subject.
To commence with the court and the immediate
surroundings of Yakoob Beg, we are struck by two
inconsistencies. In the first place, there were no great
nobles, or indeed adherents or his family; those chiefs
who, whether they were Khokandian nobles or Kirghiz
or Afghan adventurers, had proved their fidelity to
his rule, and their capacity for service, were actively
employed as governors of districts, or as commandants
of fortresses in the wide-stretching dominions of their
imperious master. Periodically they came to pay their
respects in the capital, and at frequent intervals Yakoob
Beg, in his journeys to the frontier, visited them, and
superintended their operations in person; but, in so active
a community where there was a dearth of mankind, the
intellectually gifted members of the society were too
valuable to be permitted to devote their energies and
their attention to the object of becoming palace ornaments.
Yakoob Beg had forced himself on a people who
regarded him with indifference, and he had to maintain
himself in his place by a never relaxing vigour. To
make this possible, he required a large staff of efficient
and trustworthy subordinates, who may be divided into
three classes of various capacities, viz., soldiers, administrators,
and tax-gatherers. Until the last few months
of his reign there was no symptom that his system was
declining in vigour, or that his supply of competent
officials was limited and susceptible of being exhausted.
Even in his most prosperous years, however, there was
always a difficulty in obtaining a full supply; and
in all inferior posts the disaffected Khitay had to be
employed. The Tungani of Kucha and Aksu were
scarcely more to be trusted in an emergency than their
Buddhist kinsmen. Yet the extensive civil service of
the state, which undertook the education, the religion,
the civil order, the local administration of the people
all into its own hands, had to be kept in working order,
whatever else might happen. It can at once be perceived
that, when a government which never obtained any deep
hold on the affections of the people had only a limited
population to draw upon, it was only a question of time
to solve the difficulty by an exhaustion of the supply of
suitable brain material, or by the uprising of an, at heart,
dissatisfied people. No one will ever understand the
secret of Yakoob Beg's rule unless he constantly bears
in mind that his strict orthodoxy as a Mussulman, and
his still stricter enforcement of the laws of his religion
within his borders, were elements of strength only in
his external relations; in his internal affairs they placed
him in the light of a tyrant, and prevented his people
ever experiencing any enthusiasm for his person and
rule. It is doubtful whether outside the priesthood and
the more fanatical Andijanis there was any great religious
zeal at all, and it is quite a delusion to speak of
the Kashgari, as a whole, as being fanatical Mahomedans,
in the same degree that it is true to say so of the
Bokhariots or Afghans. In addition to there being no
noble or wealthy official class in the city of Kashgar,
there was also the strange inconsistency of an intensely
strict etiquette being enforced side by side with extreme
plainness in costume and ceremonial. It is rare indeed
to hear any traveller to Kashgar speaking of the richness
or finery of court functionaries. Even Hadji Torah,
or the Seyyid Yakoob Khan, as he is now called, and Mahomed
Yunus, the governor of Yarkand, two of the most
trusted and prominent followers of the Athalik Ghazi,
were not to be distinguished from a host of minor luminaries
in the court circle by any external insignia of
their elevated position. Some of the military, officers
of the household troops, wore a device of a dragon's
head worked in silk over their plain uniform of leather;
and this seems to have been a custom surviving the
disappearance of the Chinese. Hadji Torah—who recently
visited this country, and who had on previous
occasions travelled in Russia, Turkey, and India—however,
alone among Kashgarian notables, had introduced
into his household some of the comforts and luxuries of
European life. His example was not imitated by many
others, and, after a brief period of fashion, the improvements
he had striven to make popular died out and were
lost sight of. The ordinary dress of a person above the
rank of gentleman is a large blanket-like cloak worn
over a close-fitting tunic and breeches; and the dress of
the peasant is similar, only his cloak is usually a sheepskin.
The Ameer himself set the example of exceeding
plainness in his costume, and his followers were far too
skilled courtiers to vary their practice from that of their
ruler. But what his court lacked in pomp it gained in
impressiveness by the perfect system of etiquette enforced,
and by the external show of reverence to the
ruler and to his religion, manifested in every petty detail
of the palace ceremonial. The Ameer received publicly
in his audience-chamber every day, when all petitions
and stringent punishments were submitted to him. His
shaghawals, or foreign secretaries, made their report to
him on whatever business might be most pressing,
whether it was concerning his relations with India or
Russia, with Afghanistan or the Tungani; and the local
governors, who might happen to have arrived at the
capital, were received in audience, either to present their
personal respects to the ruler, or their reports of the
government of their provinces. But with the exception
of a few of his kinsmen, and more intimate associates,
such as Abdulla, none were permitted to be seated in
his presence. Even these could not sit within a certain
distance of their sovereign. All subjects who were
allowed to approach his person had to do so in the
humblest manner, and with the deepest expressions of
humility and subjection. His son, Kuli Beg, was still
more particular in his intercourse with his subjects.
Even his cousin, Hadji Torah, a man whose experience
and lineage entitled him to exceptional consideration,
never placed himself on an equality with this youthful
despot, and always clothed his words and thoughts
when in conversation with him in an outward show of
humble respect and deferential obsequiousness. It will
be at once surmised, and, so far as our information
warrants an opinion, with correctness, that all this terrorism
alienated any good feeling from the ruling family
that its prowess in the field and the cabinet might have
secured for it. In Kashgar we have a forcible proof of
the truth of Tennyson's line, that "he who only rules
by terror doeth grievous wrong;" and yet, founded as it
was on a military system, and on the deepest distrust of
the subject races, it could not well have been otherwise.
The most unmistakable proof of how Yakoob Beg's
rule was founded, and how it was maintained, is to be
seen in the fact that his orda, or palace, was one large
barrack, the interior compartments of which were
devoted to the accommodation of the royal household.
His out-houses were filled with cannon of every description,
from antiquated Chinese irjirs to modern Krupps and
Armstrongs, and his select corps of artillerymen, clothed
in a scarlet uniform, seldom left the chief cities, except
for serious operations against foreign enemies. At the
Yangy-Shahr of Kashgar, too, he kept his military stores,
and it was said that in his workshops there he was able
to construct cannon and muskets in considerable numbers
in imitation of the most perfect weapons of European
science. But it must be noted that we have no record of
any of his home-made weapons being used in actual
hostilities, while the supply of arms received from
Russia, or this country, is known to have been made
the most of. Besides the natural aptitude of his subjects
of Chinese descent for imitation, he had in his
service, particularly in his artillery, many sepoys who
had deserted our service either at the time of the mutiny
or since. These soldiers, valuable either as non-commissioned
officers or in higher ranks still, combined with
a large number of good troops from Khokand and the
mountain tribes of the neighbourhood, gave a cohesion
and vigour to the whole army that was simply inestimable.
That army, it may be here convenient to say,
was divided into two classes widely differing from each
other, and called upon, except in an emergency, when
all the resources of the state were summoned to take
part in its defence, to perform duties as opposite as their
own composition. The army of the Ameer, founded on
that confused assemblage with which he conquered
Kashgar, was divided into two bodies, the jigit or
djinghite, the horse soldier, and the sarbaz, or foot
soldier. The former of these was the more formidable
warrior, being selected for personal strength or skill.
The jigits were trained to fight on foot as well as on
horse, and were armed with a long single-barrelled gun
and a sabre. Their uniform was a serviceable coat of
leathern armour mostly buff in colour, and to all intents
and purposes they correspond with our dragoons, or,
perhaps, still more closely with the proposed corps of
mounted riflemen. The sarbaz, among whom are
included the artillerymen, presented greater varieties of
efficiency than his mounted comrade; still he had gone
through some regular drill and training, and resided in
barracks. He was a regular soldier, and might be trusted
in defence of his country up to a certain point. In
numbers it is impossible to state accurately how many
jigits and sarbazes there were in the service of the state;
some months ago they would have been placed as high
as 50,000 or 60,000 strong, possibly at a higher number
still; now we are wiser on the subject, and we have gone
to the other end of the scale. It is probable, however,
that Yakoob Beg never had 20,000 perfectly trustworthy
soldiers in his army, and that after the conclusion
of the Tungan wars, half that number would more
accurately represent his force of jigits and sarbazes.
But in addition to the more or less effective main body,
there was a nondescript following of Khitay, Tungani,
half-savage Kirghiz, and rude degraded savages like the
Dolans, that in numbers would have presented a very
formidable appearance. The Khitay must at once be
struck out of the estimate, for they were never permitted
to go beyond the immediate vicinity of Yarkand
and Kashgar, where they kept themselves apart, and
were employed as military servants, as sentries, and as
workmen in the military shops and factories. The
Tungani, who enrolled themselves at various epochs in
the service of Kashgar, were more than dubious in
their fidelity to the state; besides they were of such
questionable courage, that they were no allies of any
importance. Even as compared with one another, these
were of varying kinds of efficiency; the Tungani who
joined Yakoob Beg in the earlier portion of his career
seeming to be the best of them. Those who joined
after the fall of Aksu and Kucha, less efficient and more
ambiguous in their fidelity; and those who dwelt in the
country from Korla to Turfan and Manas, were totally
inefficient, and not to be trusted to any degree whatever.
The Kirghiz and Kipchak nomads were rather a
source of danger to their friends than of dread to their
foes. Yakoob Beg had, therefore, at his orders but a
very limited force to maintain his own dynasty against
the machinations of Khoja and Tungan, and to defend
a long and vulnerable frontier against many powerful
and ambitious neighbours. It was absurd for him to
think of venturing single-handed across the path of
Russia, and to do him justice he never deluded himself
into the idea that he could. All he seems to have
aspired to was to resist to the uttermost any invasion of
his territory by them, and to die sooner than surrender.
Limited in numbers as his regular forces were, they seem
to have had every claim to be placed high in the rank of
Asiatic soldiers. They were certainly not as formidable
a body as the Sikhs or Ghoorkas, probably not as the
Afghans; still they were infinitely superior, except in numbers,
to any forces the Ameer of Bokhara or the Khan of
Khokand could place in the line of battle. To Yakoob
Beg alone belongs the credit of their organization.
Yakoob Beg's system of administration was simple in
the extreme. A Dadkwah, or governor, was appointed
for each district, and in his hands was vested the supreme
control in all the affairs of his province. Yet he was no
irresponsible minister who could tyrannize as he pleased.
Tyrannize in small ways, undoubtedly, many of them did,
but, as the life of the subject could only be taken away
by order of the ruler himself, the most powerful weapon
in the hands of an unscrupulous viceroy was removed.
At stated periods, too, he had to proceed to Kashgar
to give a report of the chief occurrences in his province,
and on such occasions petitions containing charges
against the Dadkwah were formally considered in his
presence. It may be said that this proceeding was a
farce, and it is probably true that a favoured viceroy
could laugh at any ordinary accusation against his character.
But that would be an exceptional case. Many
Dadkwahs were reduced in official rank, for malpractices,
and some, such as Yakoob Beg's own half-brother, were
removed for incompetence in their charges. Side by side,
too, with the Dadkwah, ruled the Kazi or Judge, who,
if of course not on a par in rank with the viceroy, was still
invested with complete authority in all legal decisions
on crime. This prominence given to the legal authorities
had a good effect on the public mind, for, although
the Kazi, as a rule, might not dare to thwart the wishes
of the Dadkwah, the effect of the law being supreme
was scarcely detracted from. And what was that law? it
may naturally be asked. Precisely the same as the law of
every other Mahomedan state, with a few innovations
traceable to the influence of the Chinese. The Shariát,
the holy code of the Prophet followed in all the Sunni
states, was enforced by Yakoob Beg, with particular
severity; and in its working no sense of mercy was
permitted to temper the harshness of its regulations.
Crimes committed by women were punished with greater
inflictions than the same committed by men; and the
ordinary punishments, whipping, mutilation, and torture
could be inflicted by order of the Dadkwah. Only in
capital cases had the decision to rest with the sovereign.
Thieves, beggars, and vagrants found wandering about
the streets at prohibited hours were immediately locked
up, and brought before the Kazi, who would either
administer a caution, or a whipping, if the accused had
previously offended. Another check on the abuse of
power by the officials was to be found in the following
regulation. A charge to be visited with a severer punishment
than twenty heavy strokes from the dira—a leather
strap, fixed in a wooden handle—had to be investigated
by a member of each official rank; so the Kazi passed
a culprit on, with his comments, to the Mufti, the Mufti
to the Alim, and the Alim to the Dadkwah. If any of
these officials dissented from the remarks of his subordinate,
and the matter was found impossible to arrange
by mutual concessions, it was either referred to the
sovereign for solution, or was permitted to fall through.
The Dadkwah had also to be present at every punishment
within his jurisdiction, and was directly responsible
to the Ameer for any miscarriage of justice. The Kazi
Rais, or head judge, had the right to decide all minor
matters for himself—for instance, in his patrols through
the streets, if he met a woman unveiled he could order
her to be struck so many times with the dira; or if he
found a man selling adulterated food, or using light
weights, he could confiscate his goods, or in some other
manner mulct him in addition to administering a certain
number of strokes. He and his attendants were particularly
energetic and zealous in compelling idlers about
the bazaars to repair to the mosques at prayer time, and
in a very paternal and authoritative manner did the Rais
exercise his petty power for the good of his people.
Even on his despotism there was some check, as he had
no authority to inflict more than forty blows with the
dira for one offence. Intimately connected with the
administration of justice was the police system, which
in its intricate ramifications permeated all sections of
society. Much as we may feel admiration for the judicial
code, which, up to a certain point admirably administered,
ensured a certain kind of rough justice throughout the
Athalik Ghazi's dominions, the police laws and discipline
have greater claims to our favourable opinion, as evidences
of an astonishing capacity for government. In
his legal code, Yakoob Beg simply adopted the laws
enforced on all true believers by the Koran, and he had
no claims to originality as a lawgiver. But as a ruler
adopting all those checks on sedition which lie at the
disposal of an unscrupulous sovereign, and which were
brought to such a pitch of perfection under Fouché
and the Second Empire, Yakoob Beg has reason to be
placed in the very highest class of such potentates. In
this achievement, too, he was not a plagiarist, and, as he
must have been ignorant of similar regulations existing
in Europe, he must be allowed the credit of having
originated a system of police in which it is difficult to
find a single flaw. In China, indeed, something of the
same kind has at all times existed, and at periods when
the Emperor grasped the sceptre firmly, and made his
individuality felt in the management of affairs, the police
were one of the most active tools of power. But even
in that empire there is no record of their having attained
so complete a control over the actions and sentiments of
the people as in Kashgaria during the last decade. It
appears, too, that in superiority of system lay the sole
pre-eminence of the latter; for the Tungan, or policeman,
of China was, individually man for man, a superior
class to the Kashgarian and other constables of Yakoob
Beg. In short, the whole credit of their existence belongs
to that ruler.
Let us now give some account of this important
body. It was divided into two chief divisions quite
distinct from and irrespective of each other, secret
and municipal. The secret was not, like ours, a perceptible
class of detectives, acting in combination with the
municipal, to which was entrusted the discovery of crimes
and conspiracies. It may loosely be described as consisting
of every member of the community, for all
desired to stand well with the powers that be, and the
easiest way to attain that object would be to place all
confidential information at their disposal. But it is
evident that even in a state of irresponsible power, like
Kashgar, a clear encouragement, such as this, to invent
libels of one's neighbours, could only end in unprofitable
litigation and confusion. There was certainly a check
on the too zealous imaginations of the subjects, and,
although there is not much evidence on the subject, it
appears to have been twofold. In the first place a
libeller incurred the risk of receiving very severe punishment,
particularly if the person libelled were of saintly
lineage, or if he filled any official post. This operated
as a check on too hasty accusations, especially when it
became known that the reward for such service was
seldom speedily forthcoming, and scarcely ever answered
the expectations of the informer. But this check, which
alone seems to have been adopted in the earlier years of
Yakoob Beg's authority, was found to be insufficient as
his power became consolidated. The secret police then
became organized to a certain degree; that is to say, they
so far formed a distinct corps that a member had to be
approved of either by the Dadkwah or the Rais. So
well, however, was the secret of their individuality
maintained that few of them were generally known to
the people. Suspicion was wide-spread throughout all
ranks of society, and the governor in his orda, or the
Rais in his hall of justice, or the shopkeeper in his booth,
or the artisan in his hut, never felt safe that his neighbour,
the man with whom he was holding the most
friendly converse, was not dissecting his expressions to
discover whether they contained anything treasonable.
Members of this formidable body were always attached
to the suite of either foreign envoys or merchants; and
their presence in the rear of the cortége, always effectually
closed the mouths of the inhabitants, or only induced
them to open them to give false or contradictory replies.
There can be no doubt that this secret organization,
brought to a high pitch of perfection during the later
years of his reign, gave a consistency and strength to
Yakoob Beg's tenure of power that was wanting to all
his predecessors. In leaving this part of the system, it
is as well to point out in conclusion that this detective
force was only useful in discovering what was about to
occur in the state among Andijani or Tungani, and
that it was powerless to attempt the repression by force
of any outbreak of popular feeling. Its members were
simply spies, and as a body its value vanished when its
members became generally known. Constant changing,
and the introduction of fresh members, were the sole
effectual means of preserving the incognito of a large
body of men, and women even, who preserved official
communication only with the local governor or judge.
The municipal police were subdivided into urban and
suburban, and they present a complete contrast to the
vague body we have just attempted to describe. Their
functions were known and recognizable. They were
the functionaries who put into practice the behests of
the Kazi, and they maintained order in the streets and
bazaars, much as our own do. The Corbashi is the head
of this body, and his subordinates are styled tarzagchi.
They wore a distinct uniform, and had drilling grounds
attached to barracks, in which, however, they were not
all compelled to reside. They were essentially military
in their rules, and presented a powerful first front to all
evil-doers and would-be rebels. It was they who accompanied
the Kazi Rais in his daily circuit of the streets
and market-place, and it was from their weapon, the dira,
that the ordinary punishment was received. Their principal
avocation seems to have been to maintain order in
the towns during the night-time, for in the day we only
hear of a few of them being detailed for personal attendance
on the Dadkwah and Kazi. With sunset their
true importance is more visible, for not only were they
stationed in all main thoroughfares, squares, and other
open places of the city; but until sunrise patrols at
frequent intervals throughout the night visited all the
chief quarters of the town. The power vested in their
hands during these hours was very great, and it was
dangerous for any stranger to venture out after prohibited
hours. All persons found in the streets after
sunset were arrested and incarcerated until the morning,
when, if they could give a satisfactory account of themselves,
they were released, with a caution not to keep such
unseemly hours for the future. If, however, they were
unable to explain their business, a further term of
imprisonment was imposed; and it was a matter of some
difficulty for a stranger to obtain his complete liberty
for some time afterwards. The suburban police fulfilled
much the same duties, and on all the country roads
patrols passed up and down during the night, while
pickets were stationed at the cross-roads. In the same
manner as in the towns all travellers, except those
armed with a passport, were interned for a minute investigation
into their affairs in the morning. And
"thieves, beggars, and wanderers" were chastised at
the discretion of the local magistrate. The vagrant laws
were as much enforced, too, as they were in this country
in the days of Queen Elizabeth, and in a general mode
of interference with the thoughts and actions of its subjects,
the Kashgarian government had attained a height
of excellence that would entitle it to rank with the
Inquisition. Still there was order. No riots occurred
to distract the harmony of the public weal, and to an
external observer, especially to one belonging to a country
where order is considered the greatest desideratum,
the government of the Athalik Ghazi seemed to be the
perfection of an Asiatic state, and that order a reason for
attributing all other virtues to its originator.
Travellers, however, who were provided with a passport,
were accorded privileges of transit, and were permitted,
if they felt so disposed, to continue their journeys during
hours interdicted to less privileged mortals. In each
chief town there were offices for the issue of these permits
to travel. Not many obstacles were thrown in the
path of those, who left permanent guarantees in the
shape of property behind them for their return, in
accomplishing their desire for travel; but rarely was
permission granted to any one, not blessed with these
worldly advantages, to proceed farther than the neighbouring
district. Indeed in all cases leave to visit
foreign states, other than Khokand or Bokhara, was a
matter of difficulty to be obtained, and only in the most
exceptional cases was it granted. But it appears that
there were some evasions of this regulation by a simulation
of religious zeal, for the Sheikh-ul-Islam had it in his
power to grant permits to leave the country on pilgrimages
to Bokhara the "holy," or to Mecca. In
themselves the passports were simple in phraseology.
They merely stated the name and address of the
traveller, the nature of his business, and his destination.
Having obtained the consent of the Dadkwah, and the
authority of the Kazi, no difficulty was experienced
in procuring the necessary slip of paper. Infractions
of this permission, by too long an absence, or by proceeding
in some forbidden direction, were visited on a
first offence with a fine. On a repetition of it, however,
the punishment became more severe. It would be
interesting to know how these protectors of the
public peace were paid, and by what means. But
on this point there is little trustworthy information.
We, however, know of one tax which was devoted to
the support of the urban police, but of the funds from
which the suburban were remunerated, we have no
authority for any assertion. A weekly tax was levied
from all the shop and booth owners, to go towards the
payment of their protectors; but it is not supposed that
this amounted to a sufficient sum to maintain the large
force in the more important cities. The difference was
probably paid out of the state coffers under the head of
justice. Judging from this we cannot be far wrong in
assuming that a similar tax was levied on the farmers
and country residents for the support of the suburban
police; and as the secret police required less outlay in the
country than in the cities, it is possible that that tax more
nearly defrayed the total cost, than it did in Yarkand
or Kashgar. The police supervision and the military
terrorism, freely resorted to on all occasions offering an
excuse for such an extreme measure, have not been without
their effect in leaving traces of their existence and
influence in the daily life of the Kashgari, and on the
countenances and sentiments of the subject peoples.
Where formerly lived a light-hearted and happy race
there now seemed as if a never-to-be-removed gloom
had settled down on the face of the land, and neither the
assurance of security nor the irregular encouragement of
the ruler to commerce could remove the blight that had
fallen upon the energies and happiness of the people.
As one of them expressed it, in pathetic language,
"During the Chinese rule there was everything; there
is nothing now." The speaker of that sentence was
no merchant, who might have been expected to be depressed
by the falling-off in trade, but a warrior and
a chieftain's son and heir. If to him the military
system of Yakoob Beg seemed unsatisfactory and irksome,
what must it have appeared to those more
peaceful subjects to whom merchandise and barter
were as the breath of their nostrils? All the advantages
of a perfect police system, heavily weighted
by the incumbrance of a costly addition of spies and
tale-bearers, would seem as nothing compared with the
loss incurred by the fetters placed on individual motion
and enterprise. Considered by itself, the police organization
of Kashgar was, perhaps, the most perfect
design achieved by Yakoob Beg, and his community of
spies will rank with anything in effectiveness that has
ever been accomplished by any potentate. But as a
permanent addition to his strength it is permissible to
doubt whether he really secured his rule by employing
the latter, or obtained much more by the formation of
the former than the services of a trained body of trustworthy,
courageous men. The restrictions imposed on
trade by the severance of all communications with the
East by the Tungan wars and by the limited amount of
liberty granted the native Kashgari, proved most deterrent
to all mercantile adventure, and placed in the
hands of Khokandians or Russians on the north, and
of Cashmerians and Punjabis on the south, most of the
trade still carried on with Eastern Turkestan.
The trade carried on by the Athalik Ghazi's state, if
we are to judge solely by amount, with foreign countries,
was greatest with Russia and her dependencies; but
if we investigate the matter more closely we find that
the result is a little more satisfactory to ourselves.
The direct trade that was carried on by way of Leh with
Khoten and Sanju was steadily increasing, while that of
Russia by Khokand had for some time remained stationary,
if it had not even decreased. And then much
of the Russian trade has to be scored to this country,
for in the marts of Kashgar, underneath Russian exteriors,
were very often to be found English interiors, and
the brand of well-known Manchester and Liverpool
makers was discovered beneath some gaudy and brilliant-looking
cover hailing from Moscow or Nishni Novgorod.
Besides, recent investigations have proved that
some of the goods exported from Shikarpore, in Scinde,
through the Bholan Pass find their way through the
mountainous districts that intervene into the territory
of his late Highness the Ameer of Kashgar. Nor had
Yakoob Beg totally neglected all means for inducing
merchants to enter his state; indeed, his chief objection
seemed to have been, not that they should have entered
his state, but that they should leave it. Serais were
built in all the chief towns for the accommodation of
such merchants as might take up a temporary abode
within his territory, and the Andijani Serai, or hotel,
specially constructed for merchants from Khokand, was
one of the largest and most striking buildings in the
city of Kashgar. Yakoob Beg had even detailed off
to take care of the serai and its occupants a large
number of the old Khitay, or Yangy Mussulmans, who
were generally employed throughout the city as domestic
servants. When we come to the description of
the relations of Yakoob Beg with England and with
Russia we will speak more fully of the details of those
treaties of commerce which were ratified on several
occasions, and whose ostensible object was the promotion
of trade and other friendly intercourse.
We have now considered the army, the police, the administration
of justice, and the court of Yakoob Beg,
and the only chief subject that remains to be discussed are
the principles of finance adopted by the Ameer. To keep
any state, even an Asiatic state, in a fit condition for preserving
its independence, a settled revenue is requisite,
and Yakoob Beg, whose atmosphere was one of almost
continual warfare, was on several occasions pressed for
money in a manner difficult to be conceived by us.
His military operations languished for the want of
the sinews of war, and we are told on credible authority
that many of his soldiers received only payment
out of the spoil taken at the sack of Turfan and other
places. So long as his ordinary expenditure was increased
by the addition of an extraordinary war outlay,
so long was he unable to make his receipts and
expenditure balance. On the cessation of hostilities
against the Tungani, and the partial revival
of trade in consequence, his fiscal affairs assumed a
brighter aspect, and it is possible that during the last
few years of his reign his revenue showed a surplus.
But to obtain that success, a most joyful one to every
embarrassed potentate, Yakoob Beg had to resort to
many strange expedients, and to manifest much patience
and long-suffering; and in overcoming petty obstacles
and minor details, he proved himself to be a man of more
than average ability, no less than he had previously by
the skilful manipulation of armies and intriguers. Here
again he erected a structure distinct and separate from
that handed down to him by the Chinese. Comparatively
speaking, the Chinese had been wealthy to the
Athalik Ghazi, and they received in moderate imposts
on merchandise alone almost a sufficient sum to defray
the total cost of their administration. Yakoob Beg had
no such certain source of revenue; he had to raise from
an impoverished and only half-conquered state a sum
almost as large as that required by the Chinese. That
he did it remains the chief proof of his skill as a finance
minister, and is another reason for our regarding this
extraordinary ruler with admiration. We may feel sure
that if we could follow closely the history of his fiscal
efforts, and the numberless plans that proved abortive,
we should have revealed one of the most instructive and
interesting narratives of modern Asia. There are no
materials out of Kashgar, if there are such there, for
such an investigation however, and we can only follow
as best we may be able, the thread of events by the light
of such authorities as are at our disposal. In court and
personal expenditure he set an example that might with
advantage be followed by other rulers in Asia even at
the present day, and in a strict economy and supervision
of the petty sums that in the aggregate make all the
difference in any state between a surplus and a deficit,
were to be found the two guiding principles of his conduct.
Kashgaria might be in a very backward state of
cultivation, and years of commotion and warfare had
undoubtedly thrown it back in the ranks of prosperity
and civilization, but the Athalik Ghazi was persuaded
of the truth of the Latin philosopher's saying, that
"Parsimonia magna vectigalia est." It must be remembered
that Yakoob Beg set himself a different task
to accomplish than had the Chinese. Their idea was
not so much to extend their empire, although there has
always been a tendency with the Chinese to be aggressive
against small neighbours, as to acquire a territory that
could be made a paying thing: much as the pioneers of
Anglo-Saxon conquest have made their impression in
every quarter of the globe in search of wealth and adventure,
did the Chinese by a seemingly irresistible impulse
spread over the continent of Asia. In doing so they were
actuated as much by calculation of possible profit as by
any desire for military renown. The Emperor Keen-Lung
himself was flattered by the triumphs achieved
beyond Gobi; but his lieutenants and viceroys aimed at
more mercenary objects, and but for the golden promise
held forth by a permanent conquest of Turkestan would
have induced their master to direct his efforts to some
more profitable undertaking. The Chinese, having
acquired Kashgar, were far too sagacious to use up its
resources by an organized system of pillage, and they
accordingly, let it be granted chiefly with a view to their
own personal aggrandizement, devoted their attention to
the development of its natural wealth by means already
detailed in a previous chapter. For three generations
the officials grew rich on the prosperity of their dependency,
and for the same period the people themselves
were scarcely less flourishing. The Chinese had accepted
no slight responsibility in undertaking the government
of Kashgar on principles identical with those by which
they held authority in Tibet; but, owing to wonderful
perseverance and good management, they triumphed
over every difficulty. The revenue raised for state and
local purposes was very great, and it sufficed to preserve
good order for many years, and to add permanent improvement
to the state in every direction. The task
voluntarily undertaken by the Chinese was far more
onerous than that Yakoob Beg found he had to execute;
but they came to it with many advantages that he
wanted. They had a large and faithful army; he had
only an uncertain gathering, which might flee or desert
on the first symptom of disaster: they had the resources
of a great and powerful empire at their back; he had
nothing but his own energy and determination: and
above all, they had a reputation that added to their
strength and facilitated their undertakings, while he
was regarded as a mere military adventurer, receiving
the contempt of Tungan and Khoja alike. The very
nature of things made the Chinese turn most of their
attention to commerce, while for years Yakoob Beg's
sole thought was to consolidate his military strength
and form a large standing army. For many years, then,
Yakoob Beg only spent money on the drilling of soldiers
and the purchase of weapons. Now and then,
when some danger seemed to threaten him, either from
Russia, Afghanistan, or the Tungani, he would devote
considerable sums to the construction of forts in the
line of the menaced position. But his chief expenditure
was confined to his army, and the maintenance of his
dynasty by his police system. The administration of
justice required a certain sum of money, and the Church
for its support came in for a fair share of the good
things that were going. It is clear that his expenditure,
if not very great in our eyes, would severely tax
a population of 1,000,000 people in no very high state
of prosperity. The chief source of wealth in the past
had always been the trade with China, and when that
was broken off, the slight increase in intercourse with
Russia and India was not a sufficient compensation. In
fact, the country was very poor, without the ingenuity
and commercial instincts of the Khitay. During the
days of the war under Buzurg Khan, the only means of
obtaining the necessary revenue was by despoliation and
enforced levies on the occupied portion of the territory.
When the western portion of Kashgaria was subdued,
Yakoob Beg found himself without any money in his exchequer,
and no easy means of filling it presented itself
to him. In these straits he had recourse to an expedient
that, if not very novel, was at all events very effective.
He issued a proclamation to his faithful subjects to the
effect that as conqueror he was landowner of the whole
state; but that he was willing—eager would have been
the more correct expression—to sell it to them at a
cheap rate. He, however, exempted from this the old
possessions of the Chinese Wangs and Ambans, and
distributed their extensive domains among the more
prominent of his followers, who in return acknowledged
their liability to military service. The system was an
exact copy of the old feudal régime, and Yakoob Beg was
vested with all the rights and authority of the feudal
lord of the Middle Ages. The parallel is still further
maintained by the large reward that the Church received
for its aid to the new ruler. The old revenues,
devoted to the support of the temples and religious
seminaries in the past, and which had miscarried during
the troublous period of the war for the possession of
Turkestan, were restored, and fresh possessions were
added thereto, to demonstrate the generosity of the sovereign
and his veneration for the religion of Mahomed.
His old friend the Sheikh-ul-Islam was still more fortunate,
and a large estate was set apart for his special enjoyment.
Nor does it appear that the Mussulman priests
abused the fresh power and advantages they thus secured;
for among the toilers in Kashgaria none were more energetic
than they in educating the people, and in extending
their influence over their minds, both for the benefit of
their religion and for the security of the power of the
Athalik Ghazi. But in one respect, and it is impossible
to exaggerate its importance, Yakoob Beg's endeavours
to found a strong military class, bound to him by ties
of past favours and others yet to come, were abortive; for
with rare exceptions his followers refused to fill their
new avocation of landed proprietors. Instead of devoting
their attention to the questions arising from agriculture
and other rural pursuits, they sub-let all their
possessions to Andijani immigrants, and, residing in their
city ordas, gave themselves over either to lascivious
pleasures or to complete indolence. Even so distinguished
a warrior as Abdulla Beg, the slayer of more
than 12,000 persons, as his panegyrists boasted, suffered
from the pervading effeminacy on the cessation of active
hostilities; and in the lower ranks of the service such
deterioration in energy was still more manifest. This
change in the spirit of his earlier supporters, among
other things, obliged Yakoob Beg to depend the more
on the Andijani merchants and shopkeepers, and conduced
to his adopting more favourable views on foreign
trade in the later years of his power.
The sum of money which he immediately received by
the sale of lands placed him in a condition to undertake
those wars against the Tungani, which added so
much to the extent of his territory and to the responsibilities
of his position. Indeed, for several years after
its first enforcement it continued to bring in a certain
amount to the coffers of the State. But even this
resource was transitory, and the sum of money received
by this means and in the shape of spoil, from Yarkand,
Kashgar, Khoten, and other places, was not sufficient to
meet the expenditure caused by the formation of a large
army. Neither of these practices could be regarded as a
permanent means of obtaining a revenue, for the former
would scarcely admit of a repetition, and the latter soon
exhausted itself. So when his rule had become a little
settled, and these modes of raising money, in addition
to the still more reprehensible practice of robbing
foreign merchants, had become out of date to a certain
degree, the Athalik Ghazi had to place his fiscal arrangements
on a more practical and honourable basis. While
he laboured under some disadvantages, already enumerated,
as compared with the Chinese, he had the great
advantage over them that he strove for an object more
easily accomplished than the restoration of Kashgar to
its pristine welfare; and in his budget he had only
steadily to keep in view how much he required to maintain
so many jigits, and so many police in his pay, and
to keep in his exchequer a small surplus for any untoward
emergency. He left the roads to take care of themselves;
the irrigation works, sadly wanted in various parts
of the state, must be reserved for his successors; and all
proposals for the amelioration of the people were shelved
for a more opportune occasion. But so many thousand
jigits must be in the ranks; so many fresh guns and
cartridges must be placed in the arsenals; and so many
adventurers must be induced by good pay to take service
in the army as non-commissioned officers, in order that the
rank and file should be well drilled. The very necessities
of his position compelled Yakoob Beg to make all these
military preparations; but the cost was great, and the
sacrifices thus imposed on ruler and on people were a
terrible strain. Recent events make us inclined to believe
that a less active military and foreign policy, and a more
peaceable and domestic one, would have tended to have
added more strength to the Athalik Ghazi's rule than the
somewhat ostentatious military parade to which he had
recourse. Be that as it may, Yakoob Beg instituted in
1867 two taxes, which may be supposed to represent
the two chief classes of receipts during his tenure
of authority. The first of these was a tithe on all the
cereal produce of the country; this tax was called the
Ushr. The second, called the Zakat, was a customs
due levied on all merchandise entering Kashgar. The
Ushr was payable on all land except that occupied by
the Church, or by those who owed military service to the
crown instead of other payment; and even those who
rented land from the noble classes were obliged to surrender
a tithe to the ruler. It would appear, therefore,
from this that it was not so much the land as its legal
possessor who was exempt from liability to the usual
obligations of citizenship. The danger contained in the
acquisition of all the crown lands by Andijani merchants,
and the gradual displacement of his more immediate
followers through the energy of these people, was not
imperceptible to Yakoob Beg, and he accordingly
adopted measures for preventing his nobles selling
their land without his sanction. The receipts from this
Ushr were very considerable, and it was the main source
of his revenue for years. We have some idea of the
approximate value of land in Kashgar. The method of
measuring land for sale, and consequently also for taxation,
is peculiar. It is not by any given size that it is
computed, or, indeed, strictly speaking by the amount
of crop it produces; but at a rate in accordance with
the amount of wheat with which it had been planted.
The average rate was about a pound for as much land
as was sown with 20 lb. of wheat. The tenant, as
has been said, paid the government dues and handed
over three-fourths of the net produce to the landlord
as rent, receiving for his portion only the one-fourth
remaining. Under this system it was only in very prosperous
years that any but very large tenants made sufficient
to earn a competent livelihood. In bad years it is
possible that the landlord had to satisfy himself with a
smaller share, if he was not induced to surrender his
claim altogether for the disastrous period. But the tax-farmers,
entrusted with the collection of this rate, were
eager to become rich, no less than to earn a good name
with the authorities for bringing in a list with no defaulters.
The unfortunate people were completely at their
mercy, and without any means of ascertaining the accuracy
of the claim, or of opposing extortionate demands
on the part of the tax-collectors. They paid without a
murmur, perhaps without a suspicion of the imposition
that was being practised upon them, the sum demanded
of them, if they were able; and as their dues were payable
without delay and on demand before anything else
was taken out of the total sum of the produce, the
Athalik Ghazi received his share with regularity, and his
tax-collector pocketed the excess sum for his own satisfaction.
In many cases it is known that the amount
claimed by the official exceeded by threefold the legal
demand. Such a system was no less hurtful to the
ruler than it was ruinous to the people. That in one
tax alone a larger sum should be extracted from the
people for the benefit of the officials than was contributed
for the necessities of the state, exhibited a very
loose system of supervision on the part of the sovereign,
and is a strong piece of evidence that in many ways
Yakoob Beg was a mixture of contradictions. We can
scarcely persuade ourselves that he was aware of these
occurrences, and yet how could he be ignorant of them?
In addition to the Ushr there was another tax on home
produce, viz., the Tanabi, or tax on land devoted to the
production of vegetables or fruit. The Tanab is, by the
way, a lineal measure of forty-seven yards, and a Tanabi
is a piece of land forty-seven yards square. On this
extent of land cultivated for vegetables, or fruit, a small
tax was raised. More than any other tax did this vary
according to the character of the district, and to the
quality of the year's crop. It was seldom less than a
shilling a Tanabi, even in the least renowned district,
whereas in some parts, in good years, it was five shillings,
or even more. Here again, however, the middleman
interfered, and exacted as much as he saw there was any
possibility of his obtaining. This tax undoubtedly ought
to have produced a large sum, as a larger portion of the
soil is laid out as fruit and vegetable gardens than for
crops; but whether it was more difficult to raise, or there
was more peculation in transitu from the tax-payer to the
imperial exchequer, it is certain that we hear much less of
this tax than we should be disposed to imagine. The two
great taxes on home productions were therefore a corn due
and a fruit due. The rate was not in itself excessive, and
could be paid by any community without embarrassment.
It is uncertain to what extent the avarice of the officials
had made the conditions of these two taxes more
onerous, although, on the most favourable supposition,
the citizen was mulcted in no inconsiderable sum. A more
serious question for the ruler was, how did it affect
his own position with regard to his subjects? Did
Yakoob Beg appear in the eyes of the Kashgari as an
exacting and oppressive tyrant on account of these heavy
impositions?
It is impossible to speak on this point with any degree
of certainty, but it is only natural to expect that such
was the case. No tiller of the ground can feel grateful
to a sovereign who required him to hand over almost
one-third of his receipts before he made use of one penny
of them, even for the payment of his rent. It is scarcely
probable that Yakoob Beg approved of such enormous
profits going to his officials; but, that having tolerated
petty exactions in his earlier days, he found himself unable
to attempt the task of coping with the evil when
it had assumed such alarming proportions. It is impossible
to believe that he remained in ignorance of what
was occurring under his very eyes, and there is some
evident foundation for the accusation that he participated
in the division of the profits of his tax-gatherers.
We should be loth to admit the accuracy of such a
charge, and yet the arguments in its favour are too
plausible to admit of a very confident contradiction. It
would not speak well for the efficiency of his secret
police if he had remained in ignorance of a fact which
was losing him the sympathy of his subjects.
The gold mines at Khoten were worked after the fall
of that city in 1868, and continued productive down to
the present time. There is no information on the quantities
of the precious metal that are there turned out in
the year, but it is probable that they are not very great.
The coal mines near Aksu and Kucha are no longer
made use of, except by a few individuals, and the copper
mines in that district have, since the departure of the
Chinese, only been very partially explored. The jade
that used to come in great quantities from Aksu and
Khoten, is still to be found throughout Kashgar; but
although it is probable that it still nearly all comes from
those cities, the Kashgari themselves tell a hesitating
tale as to its place of production. A visitor to Kashgar,
on going the round of the bazaars, soon found that the
people's tongues were tied by the presence, in his train,
of a number of the secret police, who had been specially
told off to prevent the Feringhee obtaining any troublesome
information on the state of the people, or the
resources of the state. A striking instance was given
him of the close attention paid by these guardians of
order to the veriest trifles. The traveller inquired in
one stall where the jade, which was the chief commodity
of the merchant in question, came from, and received
the reply, Aksu. Proceeding to another shop in the
street, he repeated the question, when he was informed
that it was imported from Khokand. But the traveller
said, your neighbour told me it came from Aksu. The
shopkeeper, taken aback by this abrupt remark, became
confused, and admitted that it came from Aksu. Warned
by a look from the official, he then repeated his original
assertion that it came from Khokand. The use of all
this absurd shuffling, and attempt to throw dust in
strangers' eyes, is impossible to discover; for it was a
matter of little moment whether jade came from Aksu,
or Khokand, so long as we knew that it formed an
important commodity, both in the rough and in the
chiselled state, in the cities of Kashgaria.
The customs tax, or Zakat, is sanctioned by the
Shariát, and was levied at all the border posts on the
various roads leading into the state. Up to the ratification
of the treaties with Great Britain and Russia, its
regulations were vague and elastic in the extreme. In
fact, any merchant who might have been so foolhardy
as to venture into Kashgar would have had reason, before
these events, to think himself fortunate if he escaped
the penalty of his rashness; for assuredly his luggage
would not, but would have been confiscated for the
special benefit of his Highness the Ameer. So late as
1869, Russian merchants were robbed of their baggage,
and personally ill-treated, and only after long years of
negotiation did the Russian Government obtain any
satisfaction for the injuries and loss inflicted on one of
their subjects. And then how did the Athalik Ghazi
send the sum of money he agreed to pay for the loss
the merchant had incurred?—why in a depreciated
Chinese currency, part of a large number of coins that
he had found in a disused temple in Kashgar! Before
this, all the external trade had been carried on with
Khokand and Bokhara, Afghanistan and Badakshan, and
the receipts from Zakat were quite insignificant, barring
such treasure trove as the spoliation of a merchant
from Tashkent, or from Leh. But with the persistent
efforts on the part of the Russians on the north, and of
the English native merchants on the south, to pierce the
gloom hiding the country of Eastern Turkestan, it became
impossible for Yakoob Beg to maintain much
longer the incognito he was so jealous in maintaining.
Perhaps also the prospect of deriving an income from
Zakat, that should smooth down many of his difficulties,
was not without some influence on his mind when he
came into direct contact with civilized empires. His
expectations were far too sanguine, and he seems to
have once more, during the last twelve months of his life,
become indifferent to the advantages or disadvantages of
trade with his neighbours. In fact, when he placed
his customs on a fair footing, he found that it would
require many years to recoup him for the excessive
exactions he surrendered. The merchants who first
attempted to commence intercourse with Kashgar became
speedily discouraged by the dangers of the route,
and the small opening for a large remunerative trade in
a country whose wealth and population had been magnified
tenfold. In a country where the richest merchant
in the chief town possessed only a capital of £8,000, not
much could be expected in the way of fortune; and
although the legal dues on all merchandise were fixed
at an ad valorem rate of 2½ per cent., it was soon
discovered that if the ruler happened to be in want
of cash he would not scruple to take what he could from
the stranger. Both to the ruler, and to the foreign
merchant, the new arrangement contained distasteful
matter. The former perceived that he had surrendered
some of his imperial rights, and that he was not to be
recompensed by his receiving more money, and the latter
knew that the treaty stipulation would not save him from
having to pay excess fees.
The Zakat, far from showing the expected disposition
to increase, seemed rather inclined to remain stationary,
if not to decrease; and the foreign merchant had
obtained some promise on the part of the ruler of personal
protection, and of assistance in the disposal of his
wares. His discontent at the stagnation in the customs
soon showed itself by his exacting excess dues, sometimes
on British, sometimes on Russian, but more often
on Khokandian and Afghan merchants. Instead of
increasing his receipts, these strong measures only
threw them back, and left him in a worse plight than
he was in before. He had not the patience necessary
to enable him to wait with confidence the fuller development
of trade, nor had he the perseverance or tact to
place fresh inducements in the path of merchants to
renew their intercourse with him and his state. Many
visited Kashgar with merchandise a first time; but few,
indeed, repeated the visit. The ruler was off-handed in
his reception of them. They were scarcely accorded
any liberty in their movements, and the profit of their
journey was greatly reduced by the payment of a due
of 5 per cent. instead of the stipulated condition of
2½ per cent. It is a pure fiction, therefore, to say that
trade with Kashgar had increased during the rule of
the Athalik Ghazi through his friendly inclination. If
the amount of merchandise imported into his state had
increased, it was owing only to the necessities of its inhabitants,
and was a fact that must have taken place either
by intercourse direct, or through native states, with the
two great providers of Central Asia. The exaggerated
enthusiasm that it was endeavoured to raise up in this
country about this same mythical ruler of Yarkand
never spread far, and there was always some scepticism,
if there could be no disproof, of the reports of the formidableness
of this new kingdom. Looking calmly at the
real state of Yakoob Beg's position, even at the height
of his power, we find him to have always been a pecuniarily
embarrassed ruler, glad of the smallest windfall in
the shape of the spoil of a single merchant. The Zakat,
his advisers pointed out to him, might be made a most
productive source of revenue, if foreign merchants could
be induced to bring their wares into the country. The
loss the people had felt in the departure of the Chinese
might be amply repaired by the appearance of Russian
and English merchants to supply the same place that
they filled. If his aspirations were disappointed, and
the Zakat did not show any signs of possessing that
elasticity which had been predicted, it is probable that
in his impatience, heightened by the perception that
foreign trade might lead to foreign complications, he
did not give the scheme a sufficient time for a fair trial.
His other sources of revenue, Ushr and Tanabi, and the
gold mines of Khoten, brought in a sum enough to
meet the current expenses of the government and to
maintain in his service as many soldiers as his recruiting
officers were able to secure. But there was little if any
surplus; and local improvements, and all outlay that
might have been reproductive and for the benefit of the
people, were strictly forbidden. The only works we can
find constructed by him, with a view to the advancement
of the interests of his subjects, were the merchants' serais,
built in each city, and these were self-supporting.
Yakoob Beg has no claim to being considered as a
beneficent ruler. He was a military dictator, who had
shown a rare power for inaugurating a rough system of
government, and whose campaigns had always been
singularly successful. As a ruler, showing a full appreciation
of the wants of his people, and adopting the
best possible measures to obtain them, he had no claims
to consideration. Indeed, he could not be compared
with the Chinese, who, however personal may have been
their motives, certainly raised the state to a high
pitch of material prosperity, and left many enduring
marks of their past occupation. These two dominations,
foisted on the Kashgari by the strong arm, while
each immeasurably superior to the Khoja claimants,
represented two distinct modes of governing a subject
race. The Chinese endeavoured to conciliate, and to
make the necessity for their presence felt by the people;
the Athalik Ghazi was supremely indifferent to the
prosperity of his subjects, so long as they were willing
to pay him the tribute money, and to serve in his army.
An exactly opposite result might have been expected,
for there was far more kinship between the Khokandian
adventurer and the Kashgari, than there was between
the Khitay and the Andijani. Admirers of Yakoob
Beg may, of course, plead that his rule had not acquired
sufficient consistency to justify him in tasking his
strength by great undertakings, such as the construction
of roads and canals. In one respect he had not the labour
at his disposal, and he was, consequently, hampered by
a difficulty that the Chinese were free from. Still when
we remember that all these works ought to have been
remunerative, and to have strengthened Yakoob Beg's
individual power, instead of taxing his resources, the
excuse cannot be admitted as entitled to our consideration.
Yakoob Beg has claims only to be admired for
having given us something better than a repetition
of the depravity of the Khoja rulers, and of course
among his coevals he is entitled to far the highest
place. If it is only asked for him that he should be
placed above them, no one can raise the slightest objection
to it; for beyond the shadow of a doubt, he was the
most energetic and talented ruler that had appeared
among the Khanates for several centuries. But it
would be affectation to deny that a higher place than
this has been claimed for him; and before according his
right to occupy it, the evidence on which his claim rests
must be sifted with the greatest care. Even now I do
not say that his claims are unproven; but that it is open
to doubt whether his work has not been exaggerated, I
think must be admitted by every one who has studied
the course of his life in Kashgar. It is absurd to talk
of Yakoob Beg having been an equal of Genghis
Khan or of Timour, in any other way than that of
showing that his personal abilities were of a transcendent
order. As a legislator and public benefactor, it is fair
to compare him with the Chinese, who possessed some
advantages over him, but who laboured under some
disadvantages in religion, and other conditions, as compared
with him. And when we do this, after impartial
consideration we find that the balance is greatly in
favour of the Chinese. What can we judge from this,
but that the rule of Yakoob Beg, while presenting
some striking features, was inferior in degree to that of
the Chinese? It is only fair to remember that the difficulties
in his path were great, and that he overcame
many of them. Before closing this chapter some
description of the chief men who assisted him to
conquer the country, and then to govern it, may be
not without interest to the reader.
First among these, by right of his position as well as
by his high abilities, comes the Seyyid Yakoob Khan,
or Hadji Torah, as he has more conveniently been
called, the prince who has recently visited several of
the principal courts of Europe. He is a near relative
of the Athalik Ghazi, although, strange to say, there
is no consanguinity between them. He is a son of
Nar Mahomed Khan, the governor of Tashkent, who
married as his second wife Yakoob Beg's sister, and
who was instrumental in advancing the interests of
Yakoob Beg during the earlier days of his career in
Khokand. The Seyyid was almost as old as his uncle,
the Ameer of Kashgar, having been born in Tashkent in
1823; but despite this near connection Hadji Torah
played no part in the conquest of Kashgar. Until
Yakoob Beg achieved complete success in his enterprise
in Eastern Turkestan he was considered by Khokandians
of high rank a simple adventurer. The
Seyyid Yakoob Khan was of the best lineage in
Turkestan, and it is very possible that until the year
1867 he regarded his uncle with a considerable amount
of indifference. Certain it is that Hadji Torah was
far otherwise employed than in assisting his relative
when the latter was engaged in some of the desperate
encounters of his not uneventful career. In the civil
administration of Khokand he filled, under Alim Kuli,
high posts, such as Principal of the Madrassa of Tashkent,
and then he was appointed Kazi, or Judge. It
was after the fall of Ak Musjid that he commenced
that career of activity as a traveller and a negotiator
which brought him to the shores of the Bosphorus and
to the banks of the Neva and the Thames. That was
in the year 1854, and he was appointed as a sort of
secretary to the embassy of Mirza Jan Effendi, the ambassador
sent by Mollah Khan to Constantinople for
aid. On a subsequent occasion he again visited Constantinople
in a similar capacity, after the death of
Mollah Khan, and during the brief tenure of power
by his successor, Mahomed Khan, the nominee of Alim
Kuli. This was in 1865, and during the troubles that
ensued in Khokand and the final success of Khudayar
Khan, the legal ruler of Khokand and antagonist of
Alim Kuli, Hadji Torah resided quietly at Constantinople,
where Abdul Aziz entertained him with sumptuous
hospitality. It would appear that he obtained
some kind of reputation among the numerous visitors
from either Turkestan who came to Turkey, and apart
from his sacrosanct character few could fail to be impressed
favourably by his cheerful yet dignified manner.
His uncle in 1870 had indeed overcome all opposition
to his rule, and it might at a first glance appear strange
why he should desire to secure the services of a man of
whom he could have seen or known little for many
years. But Hadji Torah possessed abilities and experience
rare among the inhabitants of Central Asia, and
to Yakoob Beg the very talents his nephew possessed
were those he was most in need of.
In 1870 the Athalik Ghazi was anxious to draw close
the bonds of alliance with the Porte; who could assist
him better than the man who had resided in Constantinople
for several years, and who had formed a friendly
intimacy with the Sultan? In 1871 Yakoob Beg first
recognized the imminence of danger to his state from
Russia, then put in possession of Kuldja; who could
instruct him in the most effectual way of warding off
that danger, either by an alliance with England or by
propitiating the Russians, than the travelled Hadji
Torah? The very qualities that the Seyyid Yakoob
Khan possessed were those the Ameer Yakoob Beg stood
most in need of. He might search among all his followers,
those who had shared every vicissitude of his
strange fortunes, and he could not find one other with
an identical capacity. The overtures to his nephew are
thus easily intelligible, and the nephew himself gladly
greeted his entry into a wider career than was that of
an honoured guest on the hospitality of the Porte.
His subsequent embassies in the service of Kashgar to
St. Petersburg, Calcutta, Constantinople, and London
are too recent and too well known to require mention
here. When he settled in Kashgar he married a
daughter of Mahomed Khoja, the Sheikh-ul-Islam of
Kashgaria. His weight with the people was consequently
very great, and his judgment was greatly
valued by the Ameer. Even over Beg Bacha, the
turbulent and ferocious heir-apparent, Hadji Torah
had acquired some influence by his ready tact and
bonhomie.
Of the two chief personages, Mahomed Khoja and
Abdulla Pansad, the priest and the soldier, who assisted
Yakoob Beg, it is unfortunately impossible to discover
much, and that little has already been stated in the
preceding pages. There can be no doubt, however,
that they were the principal instruments in promoting
the aggrandizement of Yakoob Beg, and the two who
enjoyed more than any other the confidence and
friendship of the man they had supported so faithfully.
But of another well-tried follower we know more,
chiefly through the pages of Dr. Bellew. Mahomed
Yunus seems to have been the most educated and well
informed among the governors of Yakoob Beg. He
had the reputation of being quite the best-informed
man in Kashgar, but as the curriculum of instruction
did not include modern languages, it is difficult to
guage the exact degree of that reputation. He was an
old and trusted follower of the Athalik Ghazi, for when
he was in the service of Khokand Mahomed Yunus
officiated as his scribe. He, however, as a civilian,
took no part in the expedition of Buzurg Khan, and it
was not until after the death of Alim Kuli and the
success of Khudayar Khan that he joined his firm
friend and master in Kashgar. So high an opinion
had Yakoob Beg of his talents, and so pressed was he
for skilled rulers, that Mahomed Yunus was at once appointed
Dadkwah of the recently conquered district of
Yarkand, the richest, the most populous, and the most
turbulent of all the governorships in Kashgaria. The
skill with which he brought the troublesome Yarkandis
into complete submission to the new ruler, and the
rare ability he manifested in his administration of his
province down almost to the present time, justify the
selection of his whilome comrade in Khokand. At first
it seems that the governor ruled with a high hand, and
that the slightest symptom of insubordination was
checked by an immediate arrest and a not long-delayed
execution. During the last seven years, however,
his government had become milder, chiefly because all
evil-doers had been got rid of. Among some of the
minor followers may be mentioned Alish Beg, Dadkwah
of Kashgar; Ihrar Khan Torah, the first envoy despatched
from Kashgar to India; and Mahomed Beg of
Artosh: but we have no sufficient information of them
to give an account of them that would be interesting
to the general reader.