YAKOOB BEG'S LAST WAR WITH CHINA, AND DEATH.
Until the close of the autumn of 1876 Yakoob Beg had not devoted much
personal attention to his eastern frontier. After the first Tungan war
and the capture of Kucha he had confided to his son and his lieutenants,
the charge of maintaining order in the annexed districts, and of
protecting his dominions against any hostile attempt on the part of the
Chinese. About the month of September in that year couriers arrived with
strange tidings in Kashgar. The message, we can well imagine, was
terrible in its brevity. The Chinese had appeared north of the Tian
Shan. They had sacked Urumtsi, and were laving close siege to Manas.
Their numbers rumour had magnified to almost a hundred thousand
combatants, and they came armed with all the auxiliaries Western science
could supply.
Before following the movements of the ruler of Kashgar upon the receipt
of this intelligence, it will be necessary to consider what had been the
history of this Chinese army which had so suddenly appeared in Jungaria.
When in the natural course of events the Chinese government, having
solved the Taeping and Panthay difficulties, having restored order where
disorder had been supreme, and having created an army where there had
been only a disorganized rabble, turned its attention to the question,
which it had never lost sight of, of chastising the Tungan rebels beyond
Kansuh, the victorious soldiers of Yunnan, instead of being disbanded,
were invited to participate in a fresh campaign in the regions beyond
Gobi. It requires no great stretch of imagination to realize the scene
when the imperial edict came before these veterans, calling on all true
soldiers to vindicate their country's honour and their outraged religion
against the Tungan outcasts; how the generals, such as Chang Yao, set an
example of enthusiasm which the main body of their soldiers speedily
followed. In the presence of such military enthusiasm we are transported
back to the days of imperial Rome, when the subjection of one province
was only the prelude to some fresh triumph, and when every campaign
found in the ranks of the army the veterans of the last. So it was that
the victors of Talifoo, by long marches through Szchuen and Shensi,
reached Lanchefoo, the capital of Kansuh, where the viceroy of that
province was gathering together the munitions of war, and the recruits
who were to swell the nucleus of trained soldiers to the proportions
suitable to an invading army. Some have considered, and we are far from
denying that there is much to support such a view, that there was a
political motive at the root of this enterprise, the motive being a
desire on the part of the ruling family to give employment to a large
disciplined body of men, who if retained in China proper would be at the
service of any powerful conspirator or presumptuous aspirant to imperial
honours. Whether there is any foundation or not for this supposition, it
is certain that those troops who were not required for garrison work in
Yunnan were taken by a round-about route at a great distance from the
capital to the north-west frontier town of Lanchefoo, there to prepare
for the most arduous military enterprise China had undertaken since her
conquest of Eastern Turkestan in the last century.
It is not certain when these movements began to be carried out, but
there appears to be no reason to doubt that the advanced portion of the
Chinese army had commenced its march westward before the end of the
year 1874. In the barren region between Lanchefoo and Hamil, a tract of
country some 900 miles as the crow flies, but probably nearer 1,200 by
the road followed by the Chinese, such difficulties were encountered
that one if not two winters were occupied in overcoming these
preliminary obstacles to the advance of the main force. The interval was
not passed in complete idleness at headquarters, where magazines of arms
and stores were being collected, recruits enlisted and drilled, and the
plan of campaign that was to astonish Asia, if not Europe also, was
being drawn up by the Viceroy of Kansuh in person and his able
lieutenants. At last, with the break of spring upon the desert plains of
Gobi, the Chinese army, which numbered in its entirety some 50,000 men,
set out on the long road across the desert to the more fertile regions
lying north and south of the Celestial Mountains. Of the details of this
portion of the enterprise the _Pekin Gazette_ is strangely reticent. The
most profound secrecy was observed, and, although it was known that
military events were in progress in the north-west, their object and
their extent were mysteries. After the delay experienced by the advanced
guard, which had to form fixed encampments, or rather settlements, in
the desert, and plant the corn that was to enable it to advance in the
following spring, no serious check was experienced by the Chinese until
they appeared before the walls of Urumtsi, which the Tungan leaders had
resolved to defend.
Although several officers in the service of Yakoob Beg happened to be in
the city, and several of the leading Tungani resided there, the defence
was not prolonged, and after a few days Urumtsi surrendered to the
Chinese. Many of the inhabitants had fled to the neighbouring city of
Manas, but the garrison was massacred by order of the Chinese generals.
There is no mention in this case of what fate befell those of the
inhabitants who remained.
Urumtsi surrendered towards the close of August, 1876, and on the 2nd
of September the Chinese sat down before the fortifications of Manas, a
much more strongly situated city, and defended with the whole force of
the Tungan people. The first panic at the appearance of the Chinese had
passed off, and the defenders of Manas recognized that they were not
only fighting for their cause and independence, but also for their lives
and the honour of their families. The terrible lesson of Urumtsi was not
without its effect upon the resolute but despairing garrison of Manas.
The capture of Urumtsi was a creditable performance in a military sense,
but the campaign had to be decided before the ramparts of Manas. On the
2nd of September the Chinese batteries commenced to play on the
north-east portion of the wall, and for two months the bombardment was
carried on on all sides with more or less vigour. Several assaults were
repulsed, and the Tungani, in face of superior odds and weapons, had
behaved like brave men. But the Chinese were as persistent in their
attack after an eight weeks' siege as they had been on the first day of
their arrival, and the provisions of the Tungani were almost exhausted.
With their supplies ebbed also their courage, and, after an unsuccessful
sortie, the Tungan general, Hai-Yen, presented himself to the Chinese
outposts begging to be accorded an honourable capitulation. Ostensibly,
terms were granted--or, rather, to put the matter as it is expressed in
the official Chinese report, everything was left vague--and on the 6th
of November Hai-Yen and the main body of his fighting men came forth
from the city towards the Chinese camp. The subsequent events are not
clear, but it seems that the attitude of this body was suspicious. The
men were armed, they were in a well-ordered phalanx, and to the Chinese
on the hills around it looked as if they were about to attempt to cut
their way through. Once the Chinese generals entertained the suspicion,
they proceeded to act promptly upon it, as if it were an incontestable
fact, and the Tungani, attacked from all sides, by artillery, horse,
and foot, were in a short time annihilated. Such of their chiefs as were
not slain were brought before the Chinese generals, and forthwith
executed "with the extreme of torture." Every able-bodied man found in
the city or its vicinity was massacred; but the report distinctly states
that the women, children, and old men were spared, and there is no
reason to doubt the veracity of the Chinese. There would, in their eyes,
be no need to palliate such strictly just acts of retribution as these.
Not content with having chastised the living Tungani, by annihilating
them, as a race capable of self-defence for a generation to come, the
bodies of some of the prime movers in the Tungan movement in its
infancy, such as To-teh-lin, Heh-tsun, and Han-Hing-Nung, were exhumed
and quartered, as an example to all traitors to the Chinese Empire. The
fall of Manas struck a blow that resounded throughout Central Asia, and
at the intelligence a panic spread among all the peoples of Chinese
Turkestan and Jungaria. The enterprise had been conducted with such
astonishing secrecy, and the blow had been struck with such rapidity and
skill, that the effect was enhanced by these causes, new alike in the
annals of China and Central Asia. Not only had the Khitay returned for
revenge, but they had brought with them all the auxiliaries that make
England and Russia the dominant powers in that continent. The Khitay no
longer advanced in the clumsy formation of a long-forgotten age, but in
obedience to orders based on the models of France and Germany. Their
artillery was not a source of danger to the artillerists alone, but as
effective as the workshops of Herr Krupp can supply. But, above all,
their generals had made still more astonishing progress. In the sieges
of Urumtsi and Manas they had proved themselves to be no mean
tacticians; in their next and more extended enterprise they were to show
that they must be ranked still higher as strategists.
Before the end of 1870 the Tungani had ceased to be an independent
people. The great majority of them had fallen either in the field or by
the hand of the executioner; and with their disappearance the first
portion of the task of the Chinese army was completed. The blood of the
Khitay massacred in 1862 and 1863 was atoned for, and Chinese prestige
restored to as great a height as at any time it had been in the present
century. More remained to be accomplished, in its danger as in its
result more important, which we have now to consider, before their full
task should be consummated; but the Chinese army and its generals had
done, even up to this point, a feat of which any country might be proud.
These events appear sudden and strange to us who are far removed from
their influence, and who only entertain a languid kind of supercilious
interest in matters in which the Chinese are the guiding spirit. But
what must they have appeared to Yakoob Beg in his palace at Kashgar,
although that palace was 1,000 miles removed from the spot where his
victorious enemies lay encamped? It is impossible for us to gauge the
feeling of apprehension with which these first triumphs of the Chinese
were viewed throughout Eastern Turkestan; and if the bold heart of the
Athalik Ghazi did not misgive him, it was not through any light spirit
as to the gravity of the danger.
Intelligence of the fall of Manas reached Yakoob Beg, probably, before
the end of November, and in consequence of the lateness of the season he
had the whole of the winter before him to make his preparations for
defence. The surrender of these cities was not generally known in this
country until April, 1877, when we also heard of Yakoob Beg's march
eastward to protect his menaced frontier. There is very little to be
learnt of the internal affairs of Kashgar between March, 1876, and
March, 1877; that is to say, between the close of the revolt in Khokand,
with the surrender of Abderrahman Aftobatcha, and the mustering of
Yakoob Beg's army round the city of Turfan, or Tarfur. There can be no
doubt that in that period some important changes had taken place in the
sentiment of the Kashgarian people; these changes may not have been very
perceptible to a casual observer, yet in their consequences they were as
important as manifest sedition. It is not difficult to suggest what some
of these modifications may have been; of what they resulted in there can
be no doubt--the weakening of the power of the Athalik Ghazi.
Yakoob Beg's over-caution in November, 1875, when the last rising broke
out in Khokand, damaged his prestige more than a lost battle. It damped
the ardour of the Khokandian element among his followers, and when we
remember that these were his ablest and most devoted partisans, this
alone was a serious blow. But there are many tokens that the
disaffection was not confined to any special party among his people, but
was spread amongst them all. The Tungan wars had never been popular, and
had been costly and sanguinary operations. The old trade with Russian
territory, that once had been so lucrative, languished for want of a
fostering hand, and the difficulties of that northern range of
mountains, which the patience and care of the Chinese had for a time
pierced through, were made the most of to prevent intercourse with
Kuldja and Vernoe. More than all, too, all Yakoob Beg's skill as a
"manipulator of phrases" could not conceal the fact that his treaty with
England was a failure. It did not give him that British protection which
alone he cared for, and it did not provide, through the greater
obstacles of nature, his people with that new trade outlet which was the
sole object worth securing in their eyes. The Forsyth treaty seemed to
bring the relations of England and Kashgar to a sudden termination; and
the Kashgari were quite shrewd enough to perceive that the Athalik Ghazi
would not be buttressed by English bayonets against Russian aggression,
if that instrument was to be held, as in their eyes it could not be
otherwise than held, the only connecting link between the countries. The
consequence of this belief was a resignation to a Russian subjection at
no distant date.
Yakoob Beg's tenure of power would be morally weakened by the existence
of these causes for discontent among his people, and it was at such a
moment, when they had perhaps only slightly become clear to his eyes,
that the return of the Chinese was heralded. In the face of a great and
common danger a well-affected people would have rallied round their
head, and in the crisis have found a joint necessity to produce a better
understanding than existed before among their component parts. The
country east of Kucha, where it was inhabited at all, was inhabited by
the few survivors of the massacres ordered by Yakoob Beg's
representatives. Amongst these there could be no great amount of
affection towards his cause. The garrison of the city of Kashgar
consisted in the main of the pardoned Khitay soldiers--Yangy Mussulmans,
as they were called--and from them no stanch support could be expected
against their Buddhist countrymen (see Appendix). The Tungani of Kucha
and Aksu and the neighbourhood were the most numerous recruits in the
army, and from them at least it might have been supposed that the
Athalik Ghazi would obtain faithful service. Even among them, however,
there was discontent. They had everything to dread at the hands of the
Chinese. It was they who had massacred the helpless Khitay, a deed from
the stain of which Yakoob Beg at least was free; and it was they against
whom the wrath of China would in the first place be directed. But they
had also their grudges against the ruler. He had beaten them in the
field of battle, and had compelled more than he had induced them to join
his army. They hated the Mahomedan Andijani only one degree less than
the Buddhist Chinaman, and their ambitious game had been foiled by the
military talents of their present ruler. They had run, in the years
1862-65, all the risk attaching to a revolt against China, and when they
had accomplished their task they found themselves defrauded of their
reward. Therefore, in the face of a Chinese invasion there was disunion
in the ranks of the very Mahomedan rebels who had originated all these
troubles. The nucleus of Yakoob Beg's army, when these have been struck
out as non-efficient, was small indeed; but it was only on that nucleus
he could depend in fighting for his crown and his religion.
During the winter of 1876, when he was busy in collecting arms,
ammunition, and stores at Yarkand and Kashgar, he must have discovered
many of these discordant elements; yet he pushed his preparations
resolutely on. He conceived that under the circumstances the boldest
policy would be the most prudent, and that if he could but beat the
Chinese in the field by superior tactics he might ride triumphant over
all his difficulties and dangers. With these views uppermost in his mind
he concentrated all his forces, Tungan included, along the southern
slopes of the Tian Shan, with his headquarters at Turfan. The Russian
officer, Captain Kuropatkine, who had been sent to Kashgar on a mission,
and who had journeyed through the whole extent of Kashgaria to meet the
Ameer at Turfan, computed Yakoob Beg's army at the following strength,
and supplied the accompanying information concerning its disposition
along the frontier.
The fort of Devanchi, guarding the principal defile through the mountain
range, was garrisoned by 900 _jigits_, armed with muskets and two
guns--one a breech-loader. At Turfan there were with the Ameer 3,500
_jigits_ and 5,000 _sarbazes_, with 20 guns, mostly of ancient make.
Toksoun, a fortified place, some miles nearer Korla, on the main road,
was occupied by 4,000 _jigits_ and 2,000 _sarbazes_ with five guns.
Hacc Kuli Beg had command here. At Korla there were also about 1,500
men, who were brought up to the front shortly after Captain
Kuropatkine's departure. With these 17,000 men, scattered over a widely
extended area, Yakoob Beg had to defend himself against an enemy
superior in numbers, and, as the result showed, in generalship as well.
The Russian officer gave, on his return, a very gloomy account of Yakoob
Beg's affairs, predicting the speedy disintegration of his state. He
also asserted that the Tungani were deserting in great numbers, and that
everywhere east of Kucha there was discontent and distrust of the
Kashgarian rulers. This disparaging account was confirmed by Colonel
Prjevalsky, some months afterwards, upon his return from his adventurous
journey to Lob Nor. In a letter, dated from Little Yuldus, May 28, 1877,
he said he had been very kindly received, but also suspiciously watched
by Yakoob Beg. "All the way from Hoidu Got to Lob Nor he was escorted by
a guard of honour, who officiously endeavoured to satisfy his smallest
wishes, but would not allow him, or any of his people, to come in
contact with the inhabitants. Yakoob Beg somewhat peremptorily asked
Colonel Prjevalsky to explain why the Russians had provisioned the
Chinese forces arrayed against him; but, in an interview at Korla, he
again and again assured the Russian traveller that he was a friend and
well-wisher to Russia. Notwithstanding these precautions, Colonel
Prjevalsky and the other members of the expedition succeeded in making
the natives tell them that they were disgusted with the military
despotism of Yakoob Beg, and that they hoped the Russians would soon be
coming."
The information contained in this letter refers to the end of April,
1877, or to a time after the first defeat of Yakoob Beg by the Chinese,
and his withdrawal to Korla; but it is _a propos_ in this place as
confirming Captain Kuropatkine's remarks.
In addition to the 17,000, more or less, disciplined soldiers whom
Yakoob Beg had mustered at the frontier, Captain Kuropatkine mentioned
10,000 Doungans--that is, the Tungani inhabitants of this eastern
region. Not only were these notoriously untrustworthy, but they were
also badly armed, and were, on the whole, a source of weakness rather
than of strength. Before the close of the month of February the Athalik
Ghazi was at Turfan, constructing forts at Toksoun and towards the Tian
Shan, and endeavouring to inspire his followers with his own indomitable
spirit.
In the meanwhile the Chinese had not been idle. They had, after their
triumph over the Tungani, established their headquarters at Guchen, near
Urumtsi, and had so far secured their communications with Kansuh that a
regular service of couriers was organized, and a continual supply of
arms, military stores, and men flowed across Gobi to the invading army.
For instance, a large arsenal for the storage of arms was erected at
Lanchefoo, and on one occasion as many as 10,000 rifles of the Berdan
pattern were sent in a single convoy. While Tso Tsung Tang, the Viceroy
of Kansuh and Commander-in-Chief, was making these preparations north of
the Tian Shan, for forcing the range with the melting of the snow,
another Chinese general, Chang Yao, was stationed at Hamil for the
purpose of seconding the main attack by a diversion south of the range.
In estimating the total number of the Chinese army at 60,000 men--that
is, 50,000 round Guchen and 10,000 at Hamil--we would express only what
is probable. The total number may have been more or less, but in
estimating it at 60,000 men we believe we are as close to exactitude as
is possible under the circumstances. In the month of March the Chinese
generals had made all their preparations for attacking Yakoob Beg. So
far as our geographical information goes there is no direct road from
Guchen to Turfan, and consequently the chief Chinese attack was made
from Urumtsi against Devanchi, where Yakoob Beg had constructed a fort.
But, although the larger army was manoeuvring north of the Tian Shan,
the decisive blow was in reality struck by the smaller force advancing
from Hamil. If we are to judge from the disposition of the Kashgarian
army, the movements of this brigade had not obtained that attention from
the Athalik Ghazi which they merited.
General Chang Yao captured the small towns of Chightam and Pidjam in the
middle of April without encountering any serious opposition. And from
the latter of these places, some fifty miles east of Turfan, commenced
that concerted movement with his superior, Tso Tsung Tang, which was to
overcome all Kashgarian resistance. A glance at the map will show that
Yakoob Beg at Turfan was caught fairly between two fires by armies
advancing from Urumtsi and Pidjam, and if defeated his line of retreat
was greatly exposed to an enterprising enemy. Upon the Chinese becoming
aware of the success of their preliminary movements a general advance
was ordered in all directions. It is evident that the Chinese were met
at first with a strenuous resistance at Devanchi, and that the forcing
of the Tian Shan defiles had not been accomplished when news reached the
garrison that their ruler had been expelled from Turfan by a fresh
Chinese army. It was then that confusion spread fast through all ranks
of the followers of Yakoob Beg; in that hour of doubt and unreasoning
panic the majority of his soldiers either went over to the enemy or fled
in headlong flight to Karashar. In this moment of desperation the
Athalik Ghazi still bore himself like a good soldier. Outside Turfan he
gave battle to the invader, and though driven from the field by
overwhelming odds he yet once more made a stand at Toksoun, forty miles
west of Turfan, and when a second time defeated withdrew to Karashar to
make fresh efforts to withstand the invading army. Yakoob Beg probably
lost in these engagements not less than 20,000 men, including Tungani,
by desertion and at the hands of the enemy. He consequently conceived
that it would be prudent to withdraw still farther into his territory,
and accordingly left Karashar, after a few days' residence, for Korla.
Some weeks before the occurrence of these striking events Yakoob Beg had
sent an envoy to Tashkent to solicit the aid of the Russians against the
advancing Chinese. But the Russians only gave his messenger fair words,
and did not interfere with Mr. Kamensky's commercial transactions with
the Chinese army. At the moment, too, Russia was so busily occupied in
Europe that she had no leisure to devote to the Kashgarian question.
The Chinese had for many years been good friends with Russia, and Yakoob
Beg had all his life been a scarcely concealed enemy. Between two such
combatants the sympathies of the Russian government must at first have
certainly gone with the former; nor had Yakoob Beg's attitude towards
Russia of late been as discreet as it might have been. His nephew, the
Seyyid Yakoob Khan, was notoriously an agent for some indefinite purpose
at Constantinople. His protection of the Bokharan prince, Abdul Melik,
or Katti Torah, the most bitter enemy of Russia in Central Asia, was
also ill calculated to attract Russian sympathy to his side.
Moreover there was little or nothing to arouse Russian susceptibilities
in Chinese victories so far distant as Urumtsi or Turfan. In many
respects, too, this Chinese invasion was a relief for Russia. It freed
her hands in Central Asia in a manner that perhaps will never be
sufficiently appreciated. Buddhist victories in Eastern Turkestan struck
a severe blow at Mahomedan vigour throughout the Khanates, and the
waning prestige of the Badaulet, or the "fortunate one," acted as a
warning of strange significance to all the neighbouring princes.
It is not difficult, therefore, to discover valid reasons why the
Russians declined to negotiate between the combatants, and although
Yakoob Beg endeavoured to come to terms with the Chinese, on the
understanding that his personal safety should be guaranteed, all his
diplomatic overtures were met by categorical refusals.
The Chinese after entering Toksoun came to a sudden halt, for which the
causes are not evident. But the terror of their name had gone before
them, and the country east of Karashar was hurriedly abandoned by its
inhabitants. The Chinese delay may have been caused by the necessity for
collecting provisions to enable them to advance further, or perhaps it
may have arisen from the outbreak of some epidemic, as asserted by one
of the Indian journals. On this point the _Pekin Gazette_ is profoundly
silent. The number for the 23rd of June contained a narrative of the
operations round Turfan, and also a list of the honours and rewards
given to the successful generals; but it and its subsequent issues are
silent as to the causes for the Chinese inactivity that then for many
months ensued. The most striking sentence in this report is that which
says that "the Mahomedans who submitted themselves were permitted to
revert to their peaceful avocations;" and if this be true, this is one
instance, at all events, of the Chinese exercising moderation. Strange
as it may seem, with this preliminary success the vigour of the Chinese
invasion appeared to die away, and for five months nothing more was
heard of the whereabouts of the Chinese army. In that interval the most
important events occurred in Kashgaria, but with these, the Chinese,
although the originators of them, had nothing to do. In the closing
scene of all of the eventful life we have been in these pages
considering the invading Khitay had no part. They were probably not
aware of what was taking place some 300 miles from their camp until many
weeks after it had happened; and then conceived that their best policy
would be to give time for the disintegrating causes at work within the
state to have their full effect before they advanced westward. When
Colonel Prjevalsky saw Yakoob Beg it must have been within a very short
period of his death. The shadow of approaching events may have been upon
the defeated conqueror, who from recent disaster could only presage
worse yet to come.
Of the exact manner of Yakoob Beg's death there are various accounts.
The most probable is that he was murdered by a party of conspirators,
who were led by Hakim Khan Torah. The date given is the 1st of May. That
Yakoob Beg should meet with a violent death, considering that he was
surrounded by such doubtful followers as the Tungan chiefs, is not to be
marvelled at, and that the first reverse in his career should be the
signal for fresh disturbances is only what we should expect from a
consideration of his country and its peoples in the light of past
history. So far, then, as the assertion goes, that Yakoob Beg was
murdered, there is nothing improbable about it. But there are many
discrepancies in the accompanying narrative. The first intelligence of
the death of the Ameer of Kashgar was contained in a telegram published
in the _Times_ of July 16 last year. It stated that his death occurred
at Korla, after a short illness, and that he had nominated as his
successor Hakim Khan Torah, to the express disregard of his own sons.
The telegram went on to say that Hakim Khan had declined to accept the
gift, and that the Ameer's eldest son, Beg Kuli Beg, had succeeded to
the throne. A few days after this telegram Hakim Khan Torah was
identified with the ancient dynasty of Kashgar, which Yakoob Beg had
first seated on the throne, and then displaced in the person of Buzurg
Khan. All this intelligence came from Tashkent. On the 23rd of July we
learnt in this country, from the same source, that Beg Kuli Beg had
notified his father's death and his own accession to the throne to
General Kaufmann. There no longer remained any doubt that Yakoob Beg was
really dead.
For some reason or other Beg Kuli Beg does not appear to have been a
favourite with the Russians; but this aversion to him was based on some
mistake, for Beg Kuli Beg was certainly unfriendly to England, and was
scarcely civil to our envoy, Sir Douglas Forsyth. Moreover, he at once
placed himself in communication with the Russian government, asking for
advice as to the course he should pursue with regard to the Chinese
invasion, and renewing his father's request that Russia should stop the
supplies sent to Urumtsi and Turfan from Kuldja. It was reported, but
not confirmed, that his latter demand was complied with.
Nothing more was heard of the history of these events until the end of
August, when news reached India through Ladakh and Cashmere that Yakoob
Beg "had been assassinated by Hakim Khan Torah, the son of Buzurg Khan."
This was the first hint that Yakoob Beg had fallen by the hands of
discontented partisans. In itself so natural, it threw fresh light on
the strange deed he was reported to have done of disinheriting his own
family, and it speedily became the accepted version. The question then
was, who was Hakim Khan Torah? Two versions were put forward; one was
that he was the son of Buzurg Khan, the other that he was a Khoja chief
of Kucha. The former was the more plausible, but as his name does not
occur in Sir Douglas Forsyth's exhaustive report, it is open to some
objection, more particularly when we are told that he bore a principal
part in the conquest of Kashgar by Yakoob Beg. The latter suggestion was
much more difficult to prove, but was not open to the same objection.
Grant that Hakim, or Aali, Khan Torah was a pardoned Kucha chief when
that city fell into the hands of the Athalik Ghazi, and there was
nothing extraordinary in his having proved a traitor. Assume that he
still conceived he had claims upon the governorship of that city, of
which the _Turkestan Gazette_ asserts he had been Dadkwah, and there is
nothing inconsistent in his having sought to realize his own ambitious
schemes the moment fortune frowned upon his conqueror. That Hakim Khan,
if son to Buzurg Khan, should seek to revenge his father's deposition
and life of exile is not in itself strange we admit; but if he were a
subjected ruler, who regarded Yakoob Beg as an adventurer from Khokand
with no claims to his fealty, his plot against and murder of the
Kashgarian prince at once appears not only possible, but the true story.
As a leading Khoja of Kucha he would also have claims to represent one
branch of the old reigning family of Kashgar. In the face, too, of a
great and pressing danger from the Chinese, his hereditary enemies, a
son of Buzurg Khan would scarcely make confusion worse confounded by
murdering the _de facto_ sovereign; whereas a Kucha leader might aspire
to play in such a crisis the same part that Amursana did in the last
century. It was said that Hakim Khan entered into some negotiations with
the Chinese, who gave him little encouragement.
The _Turkestan Gazette_ still adhered to its original statement that
Yakoob Beg had died of fever on the 1st of May, after an illness of
seven days' duration, and that on the 13th of May the body was brought
in state from Korla to Kashgar for the purpose of being deposited in the
mausoleum of Appak Khoja. Then, according to the _Turkestan Gazette_,
there ensued one of those atrocious deeds which have so often marked the
history of Central Asian states. The second son of the dead Ameer, Hacc
Kuli Beg, who had been with him during his last moments, escorted the
funeral cortege, and was met at a short distance from the city by his
elder brother, Kuli Beg. The elder son at once knelt before his father's
coffin, and then rising, without a moment's delay fired a pistol at his
brother, who dropped down dead. Not content with this fratricide, Kuli
Beg had the whole of the escort put to the sword, and returned to
Kashgar with his own followers escorting the coffin. We know nothing
whatever of the reasons for this atrocious act, but the fact of Kuli Beg
being in Kashgar, and not in the east, shows how Hakim Khan was able to
establish his authority in Kucha and Korla. It will be more convenient
to consider in another chapter the further course of these internal
troubles, and also the final triumph of the Chinese.
There are, therefore, two versions of how Yakoob Beg met his death, and
in support of each view there is a certain amount of evidence. All the
information on the subject has been recorded, and it is conflicting. The
Chinese reports in the _Pekin Gazette_ ignore the subject altogether.
Their personal hatred was directed more against Bayen Hu, a Tungan
leader who had fled from Hamil some years before, than against the
Athalik Ghazi. Of the main fact that Yakoob Beg died at Korla in May,
1877, there is no doubt, and that the most eventful career that has
marked its track in the history of Central Asia for several generations
was then brought to a close.
Whatever opinion may be formed of the man from his varied fortunes,
there will be few who will deny that he possessed great mental
qualities; some will be found, no doubt, to question his action in
deposing Buzurg Khan, and with more justice may his earlier life be
blamed for his repeated desertion of his friend and patron Khudayar.
Others will call to mind his vacillating conduct in 1875, and deny that
he possessed that decision of character which is the salient feature in
all truly great men. His unnecessary wars with the Tungani, and the
short-sighted policy he pursued of extending his empire up to the
vicinity of China, were also calculated to lower his claims to be
considered a general or a statesman. In extenuation of these acts, which
decidedly undermined the fabric of his rule, it may be mentioned that
there is one side of Yakoob Beg's character that has never received
sufficient attention. It is what was the secret to his foreign policy.
He certainly did not aspire, as many thought, to contest unaided the
palm of superiority with Russia in Central Asia. He was far too well
informed to dream of that. Nor could he expect to be able to extend his
power to the south, where both Afghanistan and Cashmere would resent his
presence. The only option left to him as a conqueror was to continue
aggrandizing himself at the expense of China. We know not what dreams
may have entered the mind of the stanch Mussulman in his palace at
Kashgar of uniting in one crusade against China all the followers of the
Prophet in Central Asia and of emulating the deeds of some of his
predecessors who had carried fire and sword into the border provinces of
China, and whom even the Great Wall could not withstand. Over these
bright imaginings, arising from tales told of the decadence of China, we
know not how much Yakoob Beg may have brooded as he saw his power spread
eastward through fifteen degrees of longitude, through Aksu to Kucha,
Kucha to Korla, Korla to Karashar, and Karashar to Turfan, until from
his far outpost at Chightam he could almost see the rich cities of Hamil
and Barkul, cities which are the key to Western China and Northern
Tibet, and imagine them to be within his grasp. But the policy of Yakoob
Beg will not be clearly appreciated, unless we bear in mind that these
ambitious longings were held in check by fear of Russia, and by the
hostility of the Tungani, who continued to plot even when subdued. His
keen spirit must have chafed greatly under the inability to accomplish
that which he conceived to be possible, and despite his numerous
triumphs he was at heart a disappointed man.
Moreover, during these later years, when the task he had set before him
had been nearly accomplished, and he had leisure to look around, he was
no longer young or as energetic as he had been. He was entering, for an
Asiatic, upon the evening of life, and had no longer the physical power
to essay any protracted and desperate enterprise. For a "forlorn hope"
he was as eager and as effective as ever, but for those undertakings
which require not only desperate courage but also forethought and
patience he was no longer fit. But the Chinese invasion dispelled all
these, and many other illusions. In their eyes and before their power,
he was only another Sultan of Talifoo. His great qualities, which
attracted sympathy and a certain amount of respect, in India and England
were vain in the eyes of a people whose "empire has," in their own
tongue, "been planted by heaven." Before Chinese viceroys and Mantchoo
chivalry Khokandian soldiers and Mussulman pride must be held vain. So
thought the Chinese, if they thought upon the subject at all. And so
must we think who view past history by the aid of Yakoob Beg's
overthrow. Yakoob Beg's rule in Kashgar was for twelve years a visible
fact; it was recognized by England and by Russia. The Central Asian
Khans gladly acknowledged the admission of another to their fast
dwindling ranks. Even Shere Ali, an ostensibly powerful ruler, honoured
Yakoob Beg not so much with his friendship as with his jealousy. Yet it
was all fleeting fast away.
In comparison with Chinese power his was as nothing; in comparison with
Chinese perseverance his was weakness; in comparison with Chinese
tactics, his tactics were those of a school-boy; and even in comparison
with Chinese courage his courage had to confess an equal. There was not
only the dead weight of numbers against him, but there was also the
quick weight of superior intellect. There were superior strategy and
superior weapons; greater force and greater determination; no hesitation
in action, and perfect unanimity in council; all combined to crush one
poor forlorn man, fighting with all the desperation of despair for life,
if not for liberty. Worthier of a better fate, and meeting destiny with
the calm that is natural to brave men, Yakoob Beg's defeat and death may
serve to "point a moral and adorn a tale." The tale has been told in
these pages with as close a regard for fact as the meagre records will
supply, and for the personage whose name is the pivot round which the
main facts concentrate, it may be claimed that he deserved attention
even from Englishmen. It may well be that some future generation may
recur to this career with interest as marking the only real break in the
Chinese domination in Eastern Turkestan. When the massacres and other
atrocities that marked the Khoja invasions and the Tungan outbreak on
both sides shall have been forgotten or condoned, then it will be
admitted that, despite the great benefits conferred by China on the
people in the way of trade-fostering and good government, there was some
merit in the administration which a Khokandian soldier had unaided
created in this region. High credit, then, let us, who view the subject
from an impartial stand-point, pay this departed warrior, who as a
soldier met few equals, as a governor none in his long career. Much as
we may marvel at, and perhaps impugn, Chinese strength, let us not judge
Yakoob Beg harshly, because Chinamen out-manoeuvred him, and overthrew
him in fair fight. It is an easy gauge to apply, and one which would
dispel all the reputation the Athalik Ghazi had secured, if we deny the
Chinese the great qualities those who know them best will accord them
without hesitation. But in applying so shallow a test to the case before
us, we should be wronging our own understanding quite as much as its
victim. However much we may blame Yakoob Beg for going out to encounter
an enemy whom he ought to have awaited either at Kucha or Aksu, his
valour, and also his mistaken contempt for the Chinese, are made all the
more clear. We may fairly claim for him that he was the most remarkable
man Central Asia in its fullest extent has produced since Nadir Shah;
and that he accomplished with insignificant means a task which ordinary
men, though born in the purple and ruling a prosperous and thickly
populated state, might have failed to do. What better epitaph could be
placed over a courageous and just ruler?
The moral of his career is a short one, but for us full of significance.
Those independent rulers who establish themselves for a space on the
confines of China are mere ephemeral excrescences; birds of passage who
must betake themselves away, if they can, when their little hour has
struck. English governments have never understood the vitality of
Chinese institutions. They should appreciate it better in the future.