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

The most unmistakable proof of how Yakoob Beg's rule was founded, and how it was maintained, is to be seen in the fact that his orda, or palace, was one large barrack, the interior compartments of which were devoted to the accommodation of the royal household. His out-houses were filled with cannon of every description, from antiquated Chinese irjirs to modern Krupps and Armstrongs, and his select corps of artillerymen, clothed in a scarlet uniform, seldom left the chief cities, except for serious operations against foreign enemies. At the Yangy-Shahr of Kashgar, too, he kept his military stores, and it was said that in his workshops there he was able to construct cannon and muskets in considerable numbers in imitation of the most perfect weapons of European science. But it must be noted that we have no record of any of his home-made weapons being used in actual hostilities, while the supply of arms received from Russia, or this country, is known to have been made the most of. Besides the natural aptitude of his subjects of Chinese descent for imitation, he had in his service, particularly in his artillery, many sepoys who had deserted our service either at the time of the mutiny or since. These soldiers, valuable either as non-commissioned officers or in higher ranks still, combined with a large number of good troops from Khokand and the mountain tribes of the neighbourhood, gave a cohesion and vigour to the whole army that was simply inestimable. That army, it may be here convenient to say, was divided into two classes widely differing from each other, and called upon, except in an emergency, when all the resources of the state were summoned to take part in its defence, to perform duties as opposite as their own composition. The army of the Ameer, founded on that confused assemblage with which he conquered Kashgar, was divided into two bodies, the jigit or djinghite, the horse soldier, and the sarbaz, or foot soldier. The former of these was the more formidable warrior, being selected for personal strength or skill. The jigits were trained to fight on foot as well as on horse, and were armed with a long single-barrelled gun and a sabre. Their uniform was a serviceable coat of leathern armour mostly buff in colour, and to all intents and purposes they correspond with our dragoons, or, perhaps, still more closely with the proposed corps of mounted riflemen. The sarbaz, among whom are included the artillerymen, presented greater varieties of efficiency than his mounted comrade; still he had gone through some regular drill and training, and resided in barracks. He was a regular soldier, and might be trusted in defence of his country up to a certain point. In numbers it is impossible to state accurately how many jigits and sarbazes there were in the service of the state; some months ago they would have been placed as high as 50,000 or 60,000 strong, possibly at a higher number still; now we are wiser on the subject, and we have gone to the other end of the scale. It is probable, however, that Yakoob Beg never had 20,000 perfectly trustworthy soldiers in his army, and that after the conclusion of the Tungan wars, half that number would more accurately represent his force of jigits and sarbazes. But in addition to the more or less effective main body, there was a nondescript following of Khitay, Tungani, half-savage Kirghiz, and rude degraded savages like the Dolans, that in numbers would have presented a very formidable appearance. The Khitay must at once be struck out of the estimate, for they were never permitted to go beyond the immediate vicinity of Yarkand and Kashgar, where they kept themselves apart, and were employed as military servants, as sentries, and as workmen in the military shops and factories. The Tungani, who enrolled themselves at various epochs in the service of Kashgar, were more than dubious in their fidelity to the state; besides they were of such questionable courage, that they were no allies of any importance. Even as compared with one another, these were of varying kinds of efficiency; the Tungani who joined Yakoob Beg in the earlier portion of his career seeming to be the best of them. Those who joined after the fall of Aksu and Kucha, less efficient and more ambiguous in their fidelity; and those who dwelt in the country from Korla to Turfan and Manas, were totally inefficient, and not to be trusted to any degree whatever. The Kirghiz and Kipchak nomads were rather a source of danger to their friends than of dread to their foes. Yakoob Beg had, therefore, at his orders but a very limited force to maintain his own dynasty against the machinations of Khoja and Tungan, and to defend a long and vulnerable frontier against many powerful and ambitious neighbours. It was absurd for him to think of venturing single-handed across the path of Russia, and to do him justice he never deluded himself into the idea that he could. All he seems to have aspired to was to resist to the uttermost any invasion of his territory by them, and to die sooner than surrender. Limited in numbers as his regular forces were, they seem to have had every claim to be placed high in the rank of Asiatic soldiers. They were certainly not as formidable a body as the Sikhs or Ghoorkas, probably not as the Afghans; still they were infinitely superior, except in numbers, to any forces the Ameer of Bokhara or the Khan of Khokand could place in the line of battle. To Yakoob Beg alone belongs the credit of their organization.

Yakoob Beg's system of administration was simple in the extreme. A Dadkwah, or governor, was appointed for each district, and in his hands was vested the supreme control in all the affairs of his province. Yet he was no irresponsible minister who could tyrannize as he pleased. Tyrannize in small ways, undoubtedly, many of them did, but, as the life of the subject could only be taken away by order of the ruler himself, the most powerful weapon in the hands of an unscrupulous viceroy was removed.

At stated periods, too, he had to proceed to Kashgar to give a report of the chief occurrences in his province, and on such occasions petitions containing charges against the Dadkwah were formally considered in his presence. It may be said that this proceeding was a farce, and it is probably true that a favoured viceroy could laugh at any ordinary accusation against his character. But that would be an exceptional case. Many Dadkwahs were reduced in official rank, for malpractices, and some, such as Yakoob Beg's own half-brother, were removed for incompetence in their charges. Side by side, too, with the Dadkwah, ruled the Kazi or Judge, who, if of course not on a par in rank with the viceroy, was still invested with complete authority in all legal decisions on crime. This prominence given to the legal authorities had a good effect on the public mind, for, although the Kazi, as a rule, might not dare to thwart the wishes of the Dadkwah, the effect of the law being supreme was scarcely detracted from. And what was that law? it may naturally be asked. Precisely the same as the law of every other Mahomedan state, with a few innovations traceable to the influence of the Chinese. The Shariát, the holy code of the Prophet followed in all the Sunni states, was enforced by Yakoob Beg, with particular severity; and in its working no sense of mercy was permitted to temper the harshness of its regulations. Crimes committed by women were punished with greater inflictions than the same committed by men; and the ordinary punishments, whipping, mutilation, and torture could be inflicted by order of the Dadkwah. Only in capital cases had the decision to rest with the sovereign. Thieves, beggars, and vagrants found wandering about the streets at prohibited hours were immediately locked up, and brought before the Kazi, who would either administer a caution, or a whipping, if the accused had previously offended. Another check on the abuse of power by the officials was to be found in the following regulation. A charge to be visited with a severer punishment than twenty heavy strokes from the dira– a leather strap, fixed in a wooden handle – had to be investigated by a member of each official rank; so the Kazi passed a culprit on, with his comments, to the Mufti, the Mufti to the Alim, and the Alim to the Dadkwah. If any of these officials dissented from the remarks of his subordinate, and the matter was found impossible to arrange by mutual concessions, it was either referred to the sovereign for solution, or was permitted to fall through. The Dadkwah had also to be present at every punishment within his jurisdiction, and was directly responsible to the Ameer for any miscarriage of justice. The Kazi Rais, or head judge, had the right to decide all minor matters for himself – for instance, in his patrols through the streets, if he met a woman unveiled he could order her to be struck so many times with the dira; or if he found a man selling adulterated food, or using light weights, he could confiscate his goods, or in some other manner mulct him in addition to administering a certain number of strokes. He and his attendants were particularly energetic and zealous in compelling idlers about the bazaars to repair to the mosques at prayer time, and in a very paternal and authoritative manner did the Rais exercise his petty power for the good of his people. Even on his despotism there was some check, as he had no authority to inflict more than forty blows with the dira for one offence. Intimately connected with the administration of justice was the police system, which in its intricate ramifications permeated all sections of society. Much as we may feel admiration for the judicial code, which, up to a certain point admirably administered, ensured a certain kind of rough justice throughout the Athalik Ghazi's dominions, the police laws and discipline have greater claims to our favourable opinion, as evidences of an astonishing capacity for government. In his legal code, Yakoob Beg simply adopted the laws enforced on all true believers by the Koran, and he had no claims to originality as a lawgiver. But as a ruler adopting all those checks on sedition which lie at the disposal of an unscrupulous sovereign, and which were brought to such a pitch of perfection under Fouché and the Second Empire, Yakoob Beg has reason to be placed in the very highest class of such potentates. In this achievement, too, he was not a plagiarist, and, as he must have been ignorant of similar regulations existing in Europe, he must be allowed the credit of having originated a system of police in which it is difficult to find a single flaw. In China, indeed, something of the same kind has at all times existed, and at periods when the Emperor grasped the sceptre firmly, and made his individuality felt in the management of affairs, the police were one of the most active tools of power. But even in that empire there is no record of their having attained so complete a control over the actions and sentiments of the people as in Kashgaria during the last decade. It appears, too, that in superiority of system lay the sole pre-eminence of the latter; for the Tungan, or policeman, of China was, individually man for man, a superior class to the Kashgarian and other constables of Yakoob Beg. In short, the whole credit of their existence belongs to that ruler.

Let us now give some account of this important body. It was divided into two chief divisions quite distinct from and irrespective of each other, secret and municipal. The secret was not, like ours, a perceptible class of detectives, acting in combination with the municipal, to which was entrusted the discovery of crimes and conspiracies. It may loosely be described as consisting of every member of the community, for all desired to stand well with the powers that be, and the easiest way to attain that object would be to place all confidential information at their disposal. But it is evident that even in a state of irresponsible power, like Kashgar, a clear encouragement, such as this, to invent libels of one's neighbours, could only end in unprofitable litigation and confusion. There was certainly a check on the too zealous imaginations of the subjects, and, although there is not much evidence on the subject, it appears to have been twofold. In the first place a libeller incurred the risk of receiving very severe punishment, particularly if the person libelled were of saintly lineage, or if he filled any official post. This operated as a check on too hasty accusations, especially when it became known that the reward for such service was seldom speedily forthcoming, and scarcely ever answered the expectations of the informer. But this check, which alone seems to have been adopted in the earlier years of Yakoob Beg's authority, was found to be insufficient as his power became consolidated. The secret police then became organized to a certain degree; that is to say, they so far formed a distinct corps that a member had to be approved of either by the Dadkwah or the Rais. So well, however, was the secret of their individuality maintained that few of them were generally known to the people. Suspicion was wide-spread throughout all ranks of society, and the governor in his orda, or the Rais in his hall of justice, or the shopkeeper in his booth, or the artisan in his hut, never felt safe that his neighbour, the man with whom he was holding the most friendly converse, was not dissecting his expressions to discover whether they contained anything treasonable. Members of this formidable body were always attached to the suite of either foreign envoys or merchants; and their presence in the rear of the cortége, always effectually closed the mouths of the inhabitants, or only induced them to open them to give false or contradictory replies.

There can be no doubt that this secret organization, brought to a high pitch of perfection during the later years of his reign, gave a consistency and strength to Yakoob Beg's tenure of power that was wanting to all his predecessors. In leaving this part of the system, it is as well to point out in conclusion that this detective force was only useful in discovering what was about to occur in the state among Andijani or Tungani, and that it was powerless to attempt the repression by force of any outbreak of popular feeling. Its members were simply spies, and as a body its value vanished when its members became generally known. Constant changing, and the introduction of fresh members, were the sole effectual means of preserving the incognito of a large body of men, and women even, who preserved official communication only with the local governor or judge.

The municipal police were subdivided into urban and suburban, and they present a complete contrast to the vague body we have just attempted to describe. Their functions were known and recognizable. They were the functionaries who put into practice the behests of the Kazi, and they maintained order in the streets and bazaars, much as our own do. The Corbashi is the head of this body, and his subordinates are styled tarzagchi. They wore a distinct uniform, and had drilling grounds attached to barracks, in which, however, they were not all compelled to reside. They were essentially military in their rules, and presented a powerful first front to all evil-doers and would-be rebels. It was they who accompanied the Kazi Rais in his daily circuit of the streets and market-place, and it was from their weapon, the dira, that the ordinary punishment was received. Their principal avocation seems to have been to maintain order in the towns during the night-time, for in the day we only hear of a few of them being detailed for personal attendance on the Dadkwah and Kazi. With sunset their true importance is more visible, for not only were they stationed in all main thoroughfares, squares, and other open places of the city; but until sunrise patrols at frequent intervals throughout the night visited all the chief quarters of the town. The power vested in their hands during these hours was very great, and it was dangerous for any stranger to venture out after prohibited hours. All persons found in the streets after sunset were arrested and incarcerated until the morning, when, if they could give a satisfactory account of themselves, they were released, with a caution not to keep such unseemly hours for the future. If, however, they were unable to explain their business, a further term of imprisonment was imposed; and it was a matter of some difficulty for a stranger to obtain his complete liberty for some time afterwards. The suburban police fulfilled much the same duties, and on all the country roads patrols passed up and down during the night, while pickets were stationed at the cross-roads. In the same manner as in the towns all travellers, except those armed with a passport, were interned for a minute investigation into their affairs in the morning. And "thieves, beggars, and wanderers" were chastised at the discretion of the local magistrate. The vagrant laws were as much enforced, too, as they were in this country in the days of Queen Elizabeth, and in a general mode of interference with the thoughts and actions of its subjects, the Kashgarian government had attained a height of excellence that would entitle it to rank with the Inquisition. Still there was order. No riots occurred to distract the harmony of the public weal, and to an external observer, especially to one belonging to a country where order is considered the greatest desideratum, the government of the Athalik Ghazi seemed to be the perfection of an Asiatic state, and that order a reason for attributing all other virtues to its originator.

Travellers, however, who were provided with a passport, were accorded privileges of transit, and were permitted, if they felt so disposed, to continue their journeys during hours interdicted to less privileged mortals. In each chief town there were offices for the issue of these permits to travel. Not many obstacles were thrown in the path of those, who left permanent guarantees in the shape of property behind them for their return, in accomplishing their desire for travel; but rarely was permission granted to any one, not blessed with these worldly advantages, to proceed farther than the neighbouring district. Indeed in all cases leave to visit foreign states, other than Khokand or Bokhara, was a matter of difficulty to be obtained, and only in the most exceptional cases was it granted. But it appears that there were some evasions of this regulation by a simulation of religious zeal, for the Sheikh-ul-Islam had it in his power to grant permits to leave the country on pilgrimages to Bokhara the "holy," or to Mecca. In themselves the passports were simple in phraseology. They merely stated the name and address of the traveller, the nature of his business, and his destination. Having obtained the consent of the Dadkwah, and the authority of the Kazi, no difficulty was experienced in procuring the necessary slip of paper. Infractions of this permission, by too long an absence, or by proceeding in some forbidden direction, were visited on a first offence with a fine. On a repetition of it, however, the punishment became more severe. It would be interesting to know how these protectors of the public peace were paid, and by what means. But on this point there is little trustworthy information. We, however, know of one tax which was devoted to the support of the urban police, but of the funds from which the suburban were remunerated, we have no authority for any assertion. A weekly tax was levied from all the shop and booth owners, to go towards the payment of their protectors; but it is not supposed that this amounted to a sufficient sum to maintain the large force in the more important cities. The difference was probably paid out of the state coffers under the head of justice. Judging from this we cannot be far wrong in assuming that a similar tax was levied on the farmers and country residents for the support of the suburban police; and as the secret police required less outlay in the country than in the cities, it is possible that that tax more nearly defrayed the total cost, than it did in Yarkand or Kashgar. The police supervision and the military terrorism, freely resorted to on all occasions offering an excuse for such an extreme measure, have not been without their effect in leaving traces of their existence and influence in the daily life of the Kashgari, and on the countenances and sentiments of the subject peoples. Where formerly lived a light-hearted and happy race there now seemed as if a never-to-be-removed gloom had settled down on the face of the land, and neither the assurance of security nor the irregular encouragement of the ruler to commerce could remove the blight that had fallen upon the energies and happiness of the people. As one of them expressed it, in pathetic language, "During the Chinese rule there was everything; there is nothing now." The speaker of that sentence was no merchant, who might have been expected to be depressed by the falling-off in trade, but a warrior and a chieftain's son and heir. If to him the military system of Yakoob Beg seemed unsatisfactory and irksome, what must it have appeared to those more peaceful subjects to whom merchandise and barter were as the breath of their nostrils? All the advantages of a perfect police system, heavily weighted by the incumbrance of a costly addition of spies and tale-bearers, would seem as nothing compared with the loss incurred by the fetters placed on individual motion and enterprise. Considered by itself, the police organization of Kashgar was, perhaps, the most perfect design achieved by Yakoob Beg, and his community of spies will rank with anything in effectiveness that has ever been accomplished by any potentate. But as a permanent addition to his strength it is permissible to doubt whether he really secured his rule by employing the latter, or obtained much more by the formation of the former than the services of a trained body of trustworthy, courageous men. The restrictions imposed on trade by the severance of all communications with the East by the Tungan wars and by the limited amount of liberty granted the native Kashgari, proved most deterrent to all mercantile adventure, and placed in the hands of Khokandians or Russians on the north, and of Cashmerians and Punjabis on the south, most of the trade still carried on with Eastern Turkestan.

The trade carried on by the Athalik Ghazi's state, if we are to judge solely by amount, with foreign countries, was greatest with Russia and her dependencies; but if we investigate the matter more closely we find that the result is a little more satisfactory to ourselves. The direct trade that was carried on by way of Leh with Khoten and Sanju was steadily increasing, while that of Russia by Khokand had for some time remained stationary, if it had not even decreased. And then much of the Russian trade has to be scored to this country, for in the marts of Kashgar, underneath Russian exteriors, were very often to be found English interiors, and the brand of well-known Manchester and Liverpool makers was discovered beneath some gaudy and brilliant-looking cover hailing from Moscow or Nishni Novgorod. Besides, recent investigations have proved that some of the goods exported from Shikarpore, in Scinde, through the Bholan Pass find their way through the mountainous districts that intervene into the territory of his late Highness the Ameer of Kashgar. Nor had Yakoob Beg totally neglected all means for inducing merchants to enter his state; indeed, his chief objection seemed to have been, not that they should have entered his state, but that they should leave it. Serais were built in all the chief towns for the accommodation of such merchants as might take up a temporary abode within his territory, and the Andijani Serai, or hotel, specially constructed for merchants from Khokand, was one of the largest and most striking buildings in the city of Kashgar. Yakoob Beg had even detailed off to take care of the serai and its occupants a large number of the old Khitay, or Yangy Mussulmans, who were generally employed throughout the city as domestic servants. When we come to the description of the relations of Yakoob Beg with England and with Russia we will speak more fully of the details of those treaties of commerce which were ratified on several occasions, and whose ostensible object was the promotion of trade and other friendly intercourse.

We have now considered the army, the police, the administration of justice, and the court of Yakoob Beg, and the only chief subject that remains to be discussed are the principles of finance adopted by the Ameer. To keep any state, even an Asiatic state, in a fit condition for preserving its independence, a settled revenue is requisite, and Yakoob Beg, whose atmosphere was one of almost continual warfare, was on several occasions pressed for money in a manner difficult to be conceived by us. His military operations languished for the want of the sinews of war, and we are told on credible authority that many of his soldiers received only payment out of the spoil taken at the sack of Turfan and other places. So long as his ordinary expenditure was increased by the addition of an extraordinary war outlay, so long was he unable to make his receipts and expenditure balance. On the cessation of hostilities against the Tungani, and the partial revival of trade in consequence, his fiscal affairs assumed a brighter aspect, and it is possible that during the last few years of his reign his revenue showed a surplus. But to obtain that success, a most joyful one to every embarrassed potentate, Yakoob Beg had to resort to many strange expedients, and to manifest much patience and long-suffering; and in overcoming petty obstacles and minor details, he proved himself to be a man of more than average ability, no less than he had previously by the skilful manipulation of armies and intriguers. Here again he erected a structure distinct and separate from that handed down to him by the Chinese. Comparatively speaking, the Chinese had been wealthy to the Athalik Ghazi, and they received in moderate imposts on merchandise alone almost a sufficient sum to defray the total cost of their administration. Yakoob Beg had no such certain source of revenue; he had to raise from an impoverished and only half-conquered state a sum almost as large as that required by the Chinese. That he did it remains the chief proof of his skill as a finance minister, and is another reason for our regarding this extraordinary ruler with admiration. We may feel sure that if we could follow closely the history of his fiscal efforts, and the numberless plans that proved abortive, we should have revealed one of the most instructive and interesting narratives of modern Asia. There are no materials out of Kashgar, if there are such there, for such an investigation however, and we can only follow as best we may be able, the thread of events by the light of such authorities as are at our disposal. In court and personal expenditure he set an example that might with advantage be followed by other rulers in Asia even at the present day, and in a strict economy and supervision of the petty sums that in the aggregate make all the difference in any state between a surplus and a deficit, were to be found the two guiding principles of his conduct. Kashgaria might be in a very backward state of cultivation, and years of commotion and warfare had undoubtedly thrown it back in the ranks of prosperity and civilization, but the Athalik Ghazi was persuaded of the truth of the Latin philosopher's saying, that "Parsimonia magna vectigalia est." It must be remembered that Yakoob Beg set himself a different task to accomplish than had the Chinese. Their idea was not so much to extend their empire, although there has always been a tendency with the Chinese to be aggressive against small neighbours, as to acquire a territory that could be made a paying thing: much as the pioneers of Anglo-Saxon conquest have made their impression in every quarter of the globe in search of wealth and adventure, did the Chinese by a seemingly irresistible impulse spread over the continent of Asia. In doing so they were actuated as much by calculation of possible profit as by any desire for military renown. The Emperor Keen-Lung himself was flattered by the triumphs achieved beyond Gobi; but his lieutenants and viceroys aimed at more mercenary objects, and but for the golden promise held forth by a permanent conquest of Turkestan would have induced their master to direct his efforts to some more profitable undertaking. The Chinese, having acquired Kashgar, were far too sagacious to use up its resources by an organized system of pillage, and they accordingly, let it be granted chiefly with a view to their own personal aggrandizement, devoted their attention to the development of its natural wealth by means already detailed in a previous chapter. For three generations the officials grew rich on the prosperity of their dependency, and for the same period the people themselves were scarcely less flourishing. The Chinese had accepted no slight responsibility in undertaking the government of Kashgar on principles identical with those by which they held authority in Tibet; but, owing to wonderful perseverance and good management, they triumphed over every difficulty. The revenue raised for state and local purposes was very great, and it sufficed to preserve good order for many years, and to add permanent improvement to the state in every direction. The task voluntarily undertaken by the Chinese was far more onerous than that Yakoob Beg found he had to execute; but they came to it with many advantages that he wanted. They had a large and faithful army; he had only an uncertain gathering, which might flee or desert on the first symptom of disaster: they had the resources of a great and powerful empire at their back; he had nothing but his own energy and determination: and above all, they had a reputation that added to their strength and facilitated their undertakings, while he was regarded as a mere military adventurer, receiving the contempt of Tungan and Khoja alike. The very nature of things made the Chinese turn most of their attention to commerce, while for years Yakoob Beg's sole thought was to consolidate his military strength and form a large standing army. For many years, then, Yakoob Beg only spent money on the drilling of soldiers and the purchase of weapons. Now and then, when some danger seemed to threaten him, either from Russia, Afghanistan, or the Tungani, he would devote considerable sums to the construction of forts in the line of the menaced position. But his chief expenditure was confined to his army, and the maintenance of his dynasty by his police system. The administration of justice required a certain sum of money, and the Church for its support came in for a fair share of the good things that were going. It is clear that his expenditure, if not very great in our eyes, would severely tax a population of 1,000,000 people in no very high state of prosperity. The chief source of wealth in the past had always been the trade with China, and when that was broken off, the slight increase in intercourse with Russia and India was not a sufficient compensation. In fact, the country was very poor, without the ingenuity and commercial instincts of the Khitay. During the days of the war under Buzurg Khan, the only means of obtaining the necessary revenue was by despoliation and enforced levies on the occupied portion of the territory. When the western portion of Kashgaria was subdued, Yakoob Beg found himself without any money in his exchequer, and no easy means of filling it presented itself to him. In these straits he had recourse to an expedient that, if not very novel, was at all events very effective. He issued a proclamation to his faithful subjects to the effect that as conqueror he was landowner of the whole state; but that he was willing – eager would have been the more correct expression – to sell it to them at a cheap rate. He, however, exempted from this the old possessions of the Chinese Wangs and Ambans, and distributed their extensive domains among the more prominent of his followers, who in return acknowledged their liability to military service. The system was an exact copy of the old feudal régime, and Yakoob Beg was vested with all the rights and authority of the feudal lord of the Middle Ages. The parallel is still further maintained by the large reward that the Church received for its aid to the new ruler. The old revenues, devoted to the support of the temples and religious seminaries in the past, and which had miscarried during the troublous period of the war for the possession of Turkestan, were restored, and fresh possessions were added thereto, to demonstrate the generosity of the sovereign and his veneration for the religion of Mahomed. His old friend the Sheikh-ul-Islam was still more fortunate, and a large estate was set apart for his special enjoyment. Nor does it appear that the Mussulman priests abused the fresh power and advantages they thus secured; for among the toilers in Kashgaria none were more energetic than they in educating the people, and in extending their influence over their minds, both for the benefit of their religion and for the security of the power of the Athalik Ghazi. But in one respect, and it is impossible to exaggerate its importance, Yakoob Beg's endeavours to found a strong military class, bound to him by ties of past favours and others yet to come, were abortive; for with rare exceptions his followers refused to fill their new avocation of landed proprietors. Instead of devoting their attention to the questions arising from agriculture and other rural pursuits, they sub-let all their possessions to Andijani immigrants, and, residing in their city ordas, gave themselves over either to lascivious pleasures or to complete indolence. Even so distinguished a warrior as Abdulla Beg, the slayer of more than 12,000 persons, as his panegyrists boasted, suffered from the pervading effeminacy on the cessation of active hostilities; and in the lower ranks of the service such deterioration in energy was still more manifest. This change in the spirit of his earlier supporters, among other things, obliged Yakoob Beg to depend the more on the Andijani merchants and shopkeepers, and conduced to his adopting more favourable views on foreign trade in the later years of his power.