The Life of Yakoob Beg; Athalik Ghazi, and Badaulet; Ameer of Kashgar

The wars against the Tungani certainly served one useful purpose in enabling Yakoob Beg to collect a large and disciplined force round his standard; but the attractions of service in his army lost much of their value in the eyes of the hardier clans of Turkestan and the neighbouring states, when it became known that the prospect of loot and prize money in districts impoverished by several years of hostilities had diminished. The rigour of the discipline maintained, too, was irksome to nomads and irregulars accustomed to the easier service and freedom from restraint of the other Asiatic princes; and during the later years of his rule there were many desertions, and a difficulty was encountered in inducing recruits to enter his army. The old practice, employed with such success in the earlier years of his rule, of inducing the conquered to combine with the conqueror, was no longer possible, for extermination had become the order of the day. The Usbegs, Kirghiz, and other tribes, could not supply in sufficient numbers the requirements of the state, and the Tungani, who should have comprised the largest portion of the subjects of the Athalik Ghazi, were coerced into subjection with an undiscriminating severity. The result was really a paralysis through sheer want of people, and it was not known until the hour of trial came how weakened his forces had become. Every inducement was held forth to Afghan, Badakshi, and, above all, to Indian soldiers to join, but these, although they formed a nucleus of trustworthy and efficient soldiers, were far too few to constitute a formidable army. We are justified in assuming from the facts that these Tungan wars, conducted in an unsparing manner, were the greatest mistake that marked the career of Yakoob Beg. So far as his occupation of Kucha goes, he could at least say that he had secured a valuable prize. He had acquired every part of what could be considered Kashgar, and his kingdom was effectually guarded, and his revenues prospectively increased, by the possession of the great cities of Aksu and Kucha. He might exclaim with justice that he had eclipsed all his predecessors in military prowess, and if he had been wise he would then have turned his attention to the well government of his state, and by so doing have demonstrated that he was of a higher capacity for ruling a people, as well as for commanding an army, than any Khoja prince of the past. Had he abstained from prosecuting with such unflagging persistency his inveterate dislike of the Tungani, he might easily have come to terms with his neighbours, and the harm they could have done him would have been infinitesimally small. But the chief advantage of that more prudent policy would have been visible when the Chinese advanced to chastise the Tungani. Not only would the Tungani have been more capable of resisting the Khitay, not only would Manas and Urumtsi have been capable of offering a more determined defence, but the Tungani could have retired on Turfan, and held the country round that town, as well as Karashar and Korla, for a protracted period against General Kin Shun. The Athalik Ghazi with untouched resources could have awaited with just confidence the advance of the Chinese upon his strong frontier city of Kucha, and, as the Chinese accomplished the difficult task of crushing the Tungani, he would have had the satisfaction of knowing that in all probability the Chinese effort would have been spent before it reached his own borders.

It is impossible to judge men except by the results of their actions, and the result of Yakoob Beg's incessant and unnecessary interference with the Tungani was that the Chinese army was able in a few months to dissipate the remaining Tungan communities, and to encounter in the full flush of their triumph the numerically weaker forces of Yakoob Beg. It is, therefore, impossible to exonerate the ruler from great blame in hastily undertaking operations which a little consideration ought to have shown to be unwise. Having traced Yakoob Beg's wars with the Chinese Mahomedans, it is time to consider his rule of Kashgaria proper, and the events that during these years were transpiring in other quarters of the state.

CHAPTER IX.
YAKOOB BEG'S GOVERNMENT OF KASHGAR

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.