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So far the Chinese had been merely spectators of the progress of events in Kashgar. Amursana had induced them to approve of this enterprise of Barhanuddin, and they had given general support in the war with Yusuf and his son; and it was not until Barhanuddin, elated with his success, set their wishes at defiance, that they resolved to occupy the country. But before that, Amursana's career had been cut short. Although escorted by a large force of native Chinese troops, he had aspired, in 1757, to establish himself as an independent prince in Jungaria, and had broken loose from Chinese control. The forces he raised were, however, defeated with remarkable ease by the Chinese, and Amursana was compelled to flee once more from his home – this time with no certain refuge, as he had before in Pekin. The Russians were then in possession of Siberia, but their influence for good or for ill beyond their desert and almost impenetrable stations was practically nil; but, such as it was, it seemed to Amursana the only place affording any prospect of security. He died at Tobolsk, in 1757, soon after he arrived there; but the implacable Chinese haughtily demanded from the Russians his body as a proof of his decease, and the Russian government sent it to Kiachta for surrender to them. Such was the career of the ill-fated, but ambitious, Amursana, who was the immediate cause of the introduction of Chinese power into Eastern Turkestan.

With so unmistakable a proof before his eyes of the power of the Chinese, it is strange to find Barhanuddin also proving contumacious in Kashgar, but so it was. In 1758, the very next year after the death of Amursana, this ruler and his brother Khan Khoja broke out in open mutiny to the Chinese. At Ili some Khitay officers were maltreated, and outspoken contempt was shown for Chinese commands. Such attitude could not be brooked by any established rule, and, to do the Chinese simple justice, never had been tolerated by them on any occasion; and accordingly a Chinese army was despatched from Ili to chastise this recalcitrant ruler, and to remind him that the arm of Chinese power was terribly long. Barhanuddin and his brother were defeated in several pitched battles, city after city opened its gates to the dreaded invader, and the last representatives of the Khojas were compelled to seek refuge in the isolated region of Badakshan. But even here they were not safe. The terror of the Chinese name had gone before them, and the sovereign of Badakshan, eager to propitiate the conqueror, sent the heads of the two brothers to the Chinese general, who was advancing from Yarkand. Only one of the numerous sons of Barhanuddin escaped the destruction wrought in the family of the Khojas by the victorious Chinese: his name was Khoja Sarimsak. The Chinese had now completely annexed all the territory north of the Karakoram and east of the Pamir and Khokand, and it does not appear that in doing so they had suffered any great loss. By availing themselves of Amursana's claims in Jungaria they had obtained a firm foothold in that state, and then by an equally skilful manipulation of the rival parties of Aktaghluc and Karataghluc, they had extended their authority over Kashgar as well. When their puppets, Amursana and Barhanuddin, became restive as Chinese vassals, and strove for independence, the Chinese forces were called into action and swept all opposition from their path. All this may seem the most unjustifiable ambition, nor do we wish to palliate in any way the terribly harsh repressive measures adopted by the Chinese. There is no doubt that, so long as there remained the shadow of any opposition to their rule, they did not temper their power with any exhibition of mercy. It is computed that almost half a million of people were slain during the wars of these two or three years, and that the great majority of these were the innocent inhabitants, who had been massacred. Nor, although we should be disposed to think that this is a greatly exaggerated number, have we any reason to doubt that the sword of the Chinese was called into use whenever any resistance was offered to their advance, and that the feelings of the soldiers were embittered to a great extent by religious fervour, in their encounters with the Mussulmans. The Chinese, having conquered Kashgar, turned their arms against Khokand, and entered Tashkent and the city of Khokand in triumph. As the year 1760 was drawing to a close, quite a panic was spreading through Western Asia at the advance of the Chinese. Afghanistan, then as now the only formidable Mahomedan territory left intact from foreign conquest, was implored by the suffering Islamites to check the Chinese advance. Then, as recently on a somewhat similar occasion, Afghanistan thought prudence the better part of valour, and confined her action to the invasion of Badakshan, which she coveted, in order to punish its ruler for the murder of the fugitive Khojas. But, having terrified Khokand, the Chinese wisely retired to the proper frontier of Kashgar, and then set about consolidating their rule there by an energy and administrative capacity which must excite the admiration of every governing nation.

It was some years, however, before the conquest of Kashgar, which had been so rapidly accomplished, could be considered to have been altogether completed. Fresh troops had to be summoned from Kansuh, and military settlers imported in large numbers from Shensi and other Chinese provinces, to supply the place of the massacred Kashgari. Settlers were also brought from the neighbourhood of Urumtsi and Hamil; and with these and imperial troops sent from Pekin, the Chinese felt complete masters of the situation. It was only then that the Chinese viceroy considered himself sufficiently strong to place his army in detachments in the various cities. Up to that time it had been kept mobilised in one, or at most two or three stations, ready for instant action. When the Chinese withdrew from Khokand they imposed a tribute on that state, and then they turned their arms against the nomad tribes on the north of the Jungarian frontier. The various hordes of the Kirghiz nomads sent in their submission one after the other, and the Chinese invariably accepted their fealty, and as a rule rewarded their duteous behaviour with Chinese titles and rank Thus Ablai, Chief of the Middle Horde, was made Prince in 1766, and Nur Ali, of the Little Horde, went so far as to send special emissaries to Pekin, where they were favourably received, and returned with recompenses for the fidelity of their master. The Chinese had thus secured their position in Jungaria and Kashgar before the dose of 1765, and by their possession of Khoten, they had opened up communications with their province of Tibet. On the south they possessed an admirable frontier, and it was only in the south-west that any check seemed to be put upon their advance. As already mentioned, the Ameer of Afghanistan had overran Badakshan, in chastisement for the murders of Barhanuddin and his brother; and he was continually receiving applications to declare an open war against the Chinese. His own troubles with the rulers of Scinde and Persia were sufficient to keep his religions sympathies within due bounds. But he sent an embassy to Pekin, to point out that his fellow-religionists were suffering under the conquering sway of the Chinese forces in Central Asia; and on its return with an unsatisfactory reply, he appears to have stationed a large body of troops in Badakshan. The proud Durani monarch was probably eager to oppose the Chinese, but, wiser than his contemporaries in Turkestan and Jungaria, he accurately reckoned up the risks of the enterprise, and contented himself with the maintenance of the powerful empire he had erected on the ruins of the conquests of Nadir Shah. When the Afghans had done so much, and given promises of aid in the defence of Samarcand, it is not to be wondered at if the people of Kashgar thought they would do more, and risings took place in several parts of the state, notably at Ush Turfan. The Chinese measures were prompt and effectual; the rebellion was suppressed, the inhabitants massacred, and the town destroyed. This failure struck so complete a panic into the hearts of the people, that no inducements, for more than half a century, could encourage them to rise against the Chinese. The Chinese conquest of Kashgar gave an effectual solution to the rivalries of the numerous claimants to its sovereignty, and among other competitors to the Khojas, that is, to the descendants of that Sarimsak who alone survived the massacre of his family in 1760. While very possibly the people may have suffered that mental depression which must accompany the installation of a foreign rule, and despite the very harsh and unmistakable evidences given by the Chinese of their intolerance of opposition, there was some prospect, notwithstanding these, that the Chinese would prove permanent masters, and that their rule would consequently become milder and milder every year. It was this feeling, that things could not become much worse, that rendered the Kashgari apathetic in their resistance to the Chinese. They did not dare to expect much improvement in their lot; but at all events they might suppose that Chinese massacres would cease with the disappearance of resistance, whereas massacres by their own countrymen and tyrants had been for centuries an every-day occurrence.

Before considering the Chinese occupation of Kashgar, it may be useful to give some description of the Aktaghluc and Karataghluc parties, of whose rivalry the history of Kashgar in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries is so full. It may be remembered that in 1533, Reshid, the younger son of Said, who had distinguished himself in his father's wars, seized the state from his brothers, to whom he was inferior both in age and in birth on his mother's side. In effecting this he availed himself of the alliance of the Usbeg rulers west of Pamir, and during the negotiations that were transacted between them, the distinguished divine, Maulana Khoja Kasani, of Samarcand, visited him. He was greeted with the most striking marks of Reshid's affection, and granted a large estate in Kashgar. He married and left two sons in that state to represent his interests and share his possessions. The elder son, whose mother was a Samarcand lady, was averse to the younger, whose mother was a native of Kashgar. In the course of time they each rose prominently in the service of the state, but they transmitted their antipathy to their descendants. Khoja Kalan, the elder, whose influence was greatest in Yarkand and Karatagh, was the founder of the Karataghluc, or "Black Mountaineers." Khoja Ishac, the younger, whose influence was greatest in Kashgar and Actagh, another form of Altai, was the founder of the Aktaghluc, or "White Mountaineers." The descendants of either of these Khojas, or priests, the sons of the great divine of Samarcand, claim the title of Khoja, but that must not be confounded with the more exclusive signification it possesses as representing the once ruling family.

CHAPTER V.
THE CHINESE RULE IN KASHGAR

The Chinese conquest of Jungaria and Eastern Turkestan having become an accomplished fact, what did the new rulers do to justify their forcible interference in Central Asia? What measures did they adopt to conciliate the subject peoples, and what to increase the prosperity of a vast region, naturally fertile, but impoverished by centuries of improvident government and of civil anarchy and war? Did they follow the precedent that had been set them by every past ruler of those countries, and leave the people to their own devices, to starve or to exist as best they might, so long as the tribute money was forthcoming? Did the Chinese Viceroys of Ili, or their lieutenants in Kashgar, Yarkand, Aksu, or Kucha adopt a policy of inaction, and pursue a line of conduct of unprincipled selfishness in advancing their own personal fortunes, and thus prove that they were of the same stamp as all other Asiatic despots, careless of the day and utterly regardless of the morrow? The best way to see how they acted, what they did, and what they did not that was possible, is to follow their rule in Kashgar with some attention. In itself this may be found to be no uninstructive lesson for us, who are also a great governing people; and from the perusal of what the Chinese administrators did in Central Asia we may arise willing to accord them high praise, because we are better able than other nations to appreciate the difficulties of their task.

After the fall of Amursana, the Chinese, in the first place, organized their administrative system upon the following basis: – The supreme authority was vested in the hands of the Viceroy of Ili. Under him an amban, or lieutenant-governor, administered affairs in Kashgar. His place of abode was Yarkand. In internal matters the Yarkand Amban was without a superior south of the Tian Shan, but in external affairs he only acted in subordination to the Viceroy of Ili, who alone was in communication with Pekin. Under each of these potentates there were the usual deputy-ambans and Tay Dalays, or military commanders. All the cities had Gulbaghs constructed outside of them, and these forts were held by Chinese troops – that is, by a mixture of Khitay and Tungani. It is computed that 20,000 troops used to garrison Kashgar and the neighbourhood alone. The military posts were restricted to Chinamen, and the higher judicial and administrative offices were also withheld from the subjected race. But these were the only privileges retained by the Chinese.

The Khan, or chief Amban, who resided in Yarkand, made all the appointments to the minor offices, which were filled almost exclusively by Mahomedans. The only precaution the Chinese seem to have taken was to refuse employment to a Kashgari in his native town, so that a Yarkandi would have to go to Aksu, or some other place away from his home, if he desired to participate in the government of his country. But beyond this there was no restriction, and nominally the Hakim Beg, the highest Mussulman officer, ranked on an equality with the Chinese amban. His subordinates were all Mahomedans, with the exception of his personal guard of Khitay troops. In the hands of these natives of the country lay all the administration of justice among their co-religionists, the collection of the revenue, and the levying of customs dues on the frontier and of trade taxes in the cities. It was only when cause for litigation arose between a Buddhist and a Mussulman that the amban interfered. We have therefore the instructive spectacle before us of a Buddhist conquest becoming harmonized with Mussulman institutions, and Chinese arrogance not content with tolerating, but absolutely fostering, a régime to which its hostility was scarcely concealed. This is the only instance of the Chinese exhibiting such more than Asiatic restraint towards Mahomedans; for their dealings with Tibet, a country of peculiar sanctity and Buddhist as well, is not a case in point. The scheme worked well, however. Chinese strength was husbanded by being employed only when absolutely necessary to be called into play, and the people, to a great degree their own masters, did not realise the fact of their being a subjected nation. Their first anxiety was the payment of their taxes – far from exorbitant, as it had been under their own rulers; but that task accomplished, they could free their minds from care.

Very often their own countryman, the Hakim Beg, was a greater tyrant than the Chinese amban in the fort outside their gates; but against his exactions they could obtain speedy redress. When their Hakims, or Wangs as the Chinese called them, became unpopular in a district, the amban promptly removed them; even if he considered they were not much to blame, he always transferred them to some other district. The first object in the eyes of the amban was the maintenance of order, and he knew well enough that order could not be maintained, unless he resorted to force, which he studiously avoided, if the people were discontented. The people therefore could repose implicit trust in the Chinese amban securing a fair hearing and justice for them in their disagreements with their own leaders; and the Mussulman Wangs, who were the old ruling class, saw the unfortunate tax-payer at last secure from their tyranny through the clemency of a Buddhist conqueror. We are justified in assuming that the population saw the force of these patent facts, and that, if not perfectly to be relied on in any emergency, the Chinese had no danger to expect from the tax-producing and patient Kashgari.

So long as the Chinese rule remained vigorous – that is, for about the first fifty years – the Ambans worked in perfect concord with the Wangs, and through them with the people. But the internal relations between these various personages became more complicated and less cordial through the importation, about the beginning of this century, of a fresh factor into the question. The Chinese had granted the cities west of, and including, Aksu very considerable privileges in carrying on trade with Khokand; and in the course of commercial intercourse a Khokandian element was slowly imported into these cities, when it became a people within a people, enjoying the prosperity to be derived from the Chinese Empire, but not experiencing any sentiment of gratitude towards those by whom the favours were conferred. After some years, when these Khokandian immigrants had become numerous, the Chinese acquiesced in their selecting a responsible head for each community, and this head, or Aksakal, was nominated by the Khan of Khokand, the only temporal sovereign these people recognized. The creation of this third power in the state, which was first sanctioned as a matter of convenience, was to be fraught with the direst consequences for the Chinese. The Khitay would be justified in saying that the Aksakals were "the cause of all their woe," in Kashgar at all events. The Aksakals were far too prudent to challenge the supremacy of the Chinese officials, and their first object was rather to make themselves independent of the Wangs than to compete with the Ambans. In this they were successful, for the Chinese neglected to take into account the dangers that might arise from these same bustling, intriguing, and alien Aksakals. The Wangs had always been obedient vassals, but the plausibility of the Aksakals put them on a par with their rivals. The Chinese washed their hands of the quarrel, and may have imagined that their rule was made more assured by divisions among the Mussulmans. In this they were mistaken. The Aksakals, who after a time repudiated their obligations to the Wangs, became the centre of all the intrigue that marked the last half-century of Chinese rule, and, puffed up by their triumph over the Wangs, did not hesitate to challenge the right of the Ambans to exercise jurisdiction over them. But of this more later on.

While the Chinese adopted these liberal measures in their dealings with the Mussulman population, they did not neglect those other duties which belong to the government by right. The greatest benefit they could confer was of course the preservation of order, and to maintain the balance impartially between the numerous litigants was the first article in the creed of the Chinese viceroys. As tranquillity settled down over these distracted regions, trade revived. The native industries, which had greatly fallen off, became once more active; and foreign enterprise was attracted to this quarter, which Chinese power soon made the most favoured region in Central Asia. But the rulers did not rest content with the mere preservation of good order. They did not leave it to the inclination of an indolent people to progress at as tortoise-like a speed as they would wish; but they themselves set the example which the rest felt bound to imitate. Not only did the enterprising Khitay merchant from Kansuh and Szchuen visit the marts of Hamil and Turfan, but many of this class penetrated into Kashgar proper, where they became permanent settlers. These invaluable agents supplied the deficiency that had never before been filled up in the life of the state, for they brought the highest qualities of enterprise and practical sagacity, together with capital, as their special characteristics. In the train of these Khitay merchants came wealth and increased prosperity. Yarkand, Kashgar, Aksu, and Khoten became cities of the first rank, and the population of the country in the year 1800 was greater than it had ever been before.

There was perfect equality too between all the various races in respect to trade. The Chinese did not demand special immunities for their own countrymen, as might have been expected. The Khitay, who came all the way from Lanchefoo in search of a fortune, must be prepared to compete in an equal race with the Khokandi, the Kashgari, or the Afghan. His nationality would obtain for him no immunity from being taxed, or could give him no advantage over the foreign or native traders. The main portion of the trade of the country remained in the old hands. Khokand benefited as much as Kashgar by the trade, and China, in a direct manner, least of the three.

The Chinese have at all times been justly famous for their admirable measures for irrigating their provinces. The wonderful canals which cut their way, where there are no great rivers, in China proper are reproduced even in this outlying dependency. Eastern Turkestan is one of the worst-watered regions in the world. In fact there is only a belt of fertile country round the Yarkand river, stretching away eastward along the slopes of the Tian Shan as far as Hamil. The few small rivers which are traced here and there across the map are during many months of the year dried up, and even the Yarkand then becomes an insignificant stream. To remedy this, and to husband the supply as much as possible, the Chinese sank dykes in all directions. By this means the cultivated country was slowly but surely spread over a greater extent of territory, and the vicinity of the three cities of Kashgar, Yangy Hissar, and Yarkand became known as the garden of Asia. Corn and fruit grew in abundance, and from Yarkand to the south of the Tian Shan the traveller could pass through one endless orchard. On all sides he saw nothing but plenty and content, peaceful hamlets and smiling inhabitants. These were the outcome of a Chinese domination.

The Chinese, besides possessing a dual line of communication with their own country, one north and the other south of the Tian Shan, had also a caravan route from Khoten to Lhasa, the capital of Tibet. There was also some intercourse with Cashmere by this way. The jade, for which Khoten was justly, and is still, famous, was exported in immense quantities, both to Tibet and to China, through Maralbashi. This mineral was held in high esteem by Chinese ladies, and alone sufficed to make the prosperity of Khoten assured. Gold, silk, and musk, were other articles included in the commerce of this flourishing city. There was also, in the Chinese time, a very extensive manufacture of carpets and cotton goods. The gold mines, which, with two exceptions, have not been worked since the same time, are believed to be scarcely touched, and only await a fostering hand to be put in working order once more.

The Chinese also devoted great attention to the coal mines in the vicinity of Aksu, and these were worked both by private enterprise and the Government. Coal was an article of common use in that city, but it does not appear to have been exported beyond the neighbourhood. It is known that the Chinese took greater interest in the development of the internal means of wealth of the country than in inducing foreigners to enter it. Thus, we see that mines, in a special degree, received state approval and support. The gold mines of Khoten, the coal of Aksu, and the zinc of Kucha, are all conspicuous instances of this; as, under all past, and the recent Mahomedan, rule, they have been most foolishly, but consistently neglected.

Nor were those special trades for which Kashgar had in prosperous moments been renowned, neglected. The leather-dressers of Yarkand and Aksu, the silk-mercers of Kashgar and Khoten, were never so busy as in the warlike days of Keen-Lung, and the great mass of the people, the agricultural class in the villages, was equally prosperous and well governed. Trade was fostered on all sides, and the conquering power was content to stand aside and witness the steady progress of its subjects towards hitherto unattained and unattainable prosperity.

Lastly, the Chinese directed their attention to the improvement of the means of communication between one part of the province and another. It was absolutely necessary to the security of their rule that there should be an easy and always open road between Ili and Kashgar. Therefore, a way was cut, at great expense, through the Tian Shan, north of Aksu, and this pass was known as the Muzart, or Glacier. So difficult was the country through which it passed, and such the danger from ice-drifts and snow-storms, that relays of men had to be kept constantly at work in order to prevent it getting out of repair for a day. The construction of this road was, in the first place, most expensive, but, perhaps, the cost of repairing was much more. This, the most striking engineering achievement of the Chinese, has become practically useless, through fifteen years of neglect. If China is to regain Ili, it will, no doubt, be restored. The passes west of this, by the Narym River to Vernoe, and through Terek to Khokand, were those selected by Yakoob Beg to supply its place.

The next object to which the Chinese specially paid attention was the preservation of their road home to China. Thus the road in Tian Shan Pe Lu, and the other in Tian Shan Nan Lu, were kept in the most effective state possible. The former, north of the mountains, passed through Manas and Urumtsi to Hamil; the latter, south of them, through Aksu and Kucha to the same place. The alternative route from Kucha to Kashgar and Yarkand, through Maralbashi, was also much used, more especially, however, by those who desired to break off at that outpost in the desert to reach Khoten and Sanju. In each city there was appointed a committee to superintend the roads in the district, and this Road Board was a highly important and useful corporation. It was by such measures as these that the Chinese made their rule a blessing to Kashgar and Jungaria for more than fifty years. Of course, there was the fiscal side of these schemes of public utility. Roads could not be opened up and maintained in order, canals could not be dug, the state could not administer justice, promote trade, and make itself respected abroad, without an assured revenue, and this revenue, after the first ten years, was very productive.

The principal taxes were the tithe on the produce of the land, called "ushr" and the zakat (fortieth), on merchandise and cattle. Then, in the cities, there was a house tax, which was essentially, like our own income tax, a war tax, fluctuating in accordance with the military necessities, caused by foreign or civil war. From the mines, too, the state derived a large annual sum, which was generally devoted to some object of public utility. There was also the tribute money from the Kirghiz nomads, whose flocks and horses were numbered and taxed at a low rate, in return for which they were taken under the protection of China. In addition to these great taxes there were several smaller ones, such as a fee on fuel sold in the market, and another levy on milch-kine kept in cities. A writer on Kashgar has said that these "proved a ready means of oppression, and a prolific source of that discontent which left the rulers without a single helping hand, or sympathising heart, in the hour of their distress and destruction." But this assumption of cause and effect is scarcely just.

Of course, all taxes can be made a ready means of oppression by the tax-gatherer, who, in this case, was a Mussulman and fellow-countryman. But taxes are absolutely necessary to all good government, and when we consider what China did with her revenue, with what public spirit her representatives laid it out in plans for the advantage of the state, can we pronounce an opinion that she imposed unfair burdens on the subjected race? Moreover, no one denies the prosperity general throughout Kashgar in those days, a period looked back to with regret by the inhabitants during the most favoured years of Yakoob Beg's rule. It is not in accordance with facts, then, to imply that the Chinese ground Kashgar under them by severe taxation, and whatever petty tyranny there was, was carried on not by the Khitay Ambans, but by the Mahomedan Wangs.

In the hour of distress and destruction the people, indeed, proved traitorous to their best friends, or, more generally, apathetic; leaving to the energetic Andijani element within their gates the task of crossing swords with Buddhist rule, to which the hostility of these immigrants had always been declared.

The short-sightedness of the Kashgari played the game of the more fanatical and ambitious people of Khokand; but the rule of China did not pass out of Eastern Turkestan until the disturbances of forty years had generated ill-feeling that formerly was not, and had so embittered the relations of governing and governed, that what had come to be considered a lenient and impersonal government, assumed all the darker hues of a military and foreign despotism. Even then China did not fall until there was dissension within herself, when, split into three hostile camps, her sword dropped nerveless from her hand in Central Asia, 2,000 miles away from her natural border. To follow Chinese rule in Kashgar down to 1820, is to observe the monotonous course of never varying prosperity. From that year to 1860, the tale is of a different complexion, less monotonous but also less satisfactory.