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

But this was not the full extent of the mistake we had actually committed. We had annoyed the Chinese; but we had absolutely offended the people and the ruling Lamas of Tibet. Warren Hastings had sent two missions – one under Mr. George Bogle, the other under Captain Turner – to the Teshu Lama, and by means of these embassies had broken ground very happily in Tibet. He had also conferred an obligation upon him by dealing leniently with the intractable Bhutanese or Bhuteas; and he had followed up that sense of obligation by the despatch of two successful missions. When Lord Cornwallis threw the ægis of British protection over Nepaul, it is true that we had no diplomatic relationship with Tibet, but we were on a good footing with the people generally, having a native representative at Lhasa named Purungir Gosain, and being in high repute at Shigatze, the chief city of the southern portion of Tibet. The Tibetans, the instant the Ghoorkas raided their country, notified the same to our government, and requested its good offices to prevent the Ghoorkas invading their country. The Chinese, their lawful protectors, were so far away that much damage could be inflicted upon them before the Chinese could have time to despatch a vindicating army; therefore they appealed to their friends the English, whom they had always found so just, for assistance in their extremity. Their appeal was evidently made with the impression that it would be granted. Therefore it was with double regret they saw the English remain indifferent while the Ghoorkas were pressing on against Lhasa, and ravaging the fertile districts watered by the Sanpu. But their regret and surprise at our government remaining indifferent were as nothing compared with their indignation when they learnt that we were actually interfering on behalf of the marauding Ghoorkas. We saved the Ghoorkas from condign chastisement, and we of course prevented the establishment of a Chinese garrison at Khatmandoo, which we could whenever we chose have easily expelled; but we offended the Tibetans and the Chinese, and induced them to unite in a policy of hostility against ourselves. After that war (1792) the Himalayan passes were closed against us, and the Chinese block-houses have effectually barred the way to Tibet and Northern Asia ever since. Mr. Thomas Manning, one of the most intrepid and highly gifted of English travellers, penetrated into Tibet in 1812, and resided there some time. But that is the only instance in which an English traveller overcame Bhutea and Ghoorka indifference and Chinese hostility. Tibet remains a sealed book, and, despite treaty rights to enter it, no Englishman goes thither, although the attraction is great, and the prize to be secured far from vague or trivial. The assumed reason is the covert hostility of the Chinese.

If we turn farther to the east, to Assam – which we have absorbed – to Birmà, and even to Siam, we find the same causes in operation. We recognized in Yunnan the Panthay Sultan of Talifoo; we have always striven to treat the kings of Birmà and Siam as independent princes, whereas they are only Chinese vassals; and we are believed to have carried on intrigues with the Shans and other tribes beyond the Assamese frontier. These steps may be prudent or they may not for other reasons; but they certainly are imprudent for the reason that they offend the Chinese. As a policy intended to conciliate the Chinese, our frontier policy on the north and the east has been the worst possible, and a tissue of blunders from beginning to end; and the result is that for the last half-century we have lived on the very worst terms with the Chinese. We should have conciliated them, but we aroused instead all their latent suspicion and dislike. We should have become friendly neighbours, and, on the contrary, we are neighbours who, if not decidedly hostile to each other, shun each other's presence. And the real base of our sentiment towards the Chinese is to be seen in the fact that one of the first articles in the creed of Indian state policy is "to keep China as far off as possible." That precept, which may have been very useful, has served its turn, and it is time that our Indo-Chinese policy should be set upon a new basis. With China once more supreme upon our whole northern frontier, and with her presenting ultimatums at Bangkok, and coercing the ruler of Mandalay as she esteems fit, it is high time for us, apart from the Central Asian question altogether, to set our house in order with the Chinese. The mistakes we made in championing the Ghoorkas, in acknowledging the Panthays, and in a general policy of indifference to Chinese opinion, have all tended to bring about the present deadlock in our relations with China. Our acknowledgment of the Athalik Ghazi cannot have conduced to the creation of any very friendly sentiment among the Chinese towards us, and, therefore, at the present moment we must assume that the state of feeling existing among the Chinese in Tibet and Yunnan towards us exists in Kashgaria also; and that feeling is a veiled hostility. Therefore, while the Chinese are beginning to regard Russia with the hostile feelings that once were reserved for England, they have by no means altered their old sentiments towards us. We have done nothing whatever to induce them to do so. We have not helped them in any way to regain Kashgar, and on the whole English opinion may be said to have been more adverse to, than in favour of, their claims. They have found in the arsenals of Kashgar and Yarkand many proofs of England's alliance with, and friendship for, Yakoob Beg; and, on the other hand, they certainly owe much to the assistance of Russian merchants, and the forbearance of the Russian government. Nor should we for an instant delude ourselves with the fallacy that the Chinese will look to us for aid against Russia, as Yakoob Beg did. They have conquered Eastern Turkestan without us – in fact, despite of our moral opposition; and they will retain it if they can by their own right arms. It will not enter their head for an instant to play the old game of Yakoob Beg, of setting England off against Russia. But, although they will play a perfectly independent game, it by no means follows that they will be hostile to this country, if by some fortunate stroke of diplomacy we could bring home to their minds the fact that England is glad at the result of the war in Central Asia, however much she may have failed during its progress to recognize which was the rightful cause. But what is that fortunate stroke of diplomacy to be? and how is it to be brought to pass? To each of these questions it would be rash to give any confident reply. In dealing with the Chinese we are not only treating with a people whom we very imperfectly understand, but also with a government the secret springs of whose policy we neither know nor appreciate. The action we might therefore adopt, founded though it should be on the experience of some Englishman versed in the mysteries of China, might fail to accomplish what it seemed calculated to secure. It might be crowned with success, it might be condemned with failure. Of course the first thing to decide is, how are we to take official cognizance of China's reconquest of Kashgaria, and how are we to bring home to the minds of Tso Tsung Tang and his lieutenants the knowledge that we have repented of our shortsighted policy towards Yakoob Beg, and are willing to atone for it in so far as we are able by an ample recognition of the change in affairs north of the Karakoram?

The Che-foo Convention gave us the right to send an embassy to Tibet, on the condition that it should be acted upon within a given space. We did not avail ourselves of that concession, and the Chinese, we are informed, consider that the right has lapsed. We may have been wise or we may have been foolish – in my opinion we have been foolish – in declining to enforce the only real concession China made, in reparation for the murder of Mr. Margary. Does this concession, which we never made use of, entitle us to send a mission to the Chinese in Kashgar? Acting upon this precedent, are we justified in supposing that the Chinese would hold out a hand of friendship to an English envoy coming from Leh to Yarkand? It is much to be feared that it would not. At the present moment, too, the country must be in such a disturbed state, that the Chinese would have a ready excuse if any accident befel our envoy. Moreover, at the present moment an envoy would have no definite object before him. A few years hence, when the Chinese rule shall be completely restored throughout Eastern Turkestan, it may be reasonable to expect a revival of trade in this direction; but at present it would be premature to agitate for it. Nor would a simple embassy of congratulation look well. We have too recently befriended the Athalik Ghazi to make our congratulations to his conqueror anything but a mockery. The Chinese would be puffed up with vanity, and think that we were only worshipping their rising sun. Whatever action we do take in Central Asia, to effect an understanding with the Chinese, we must be very careful that it has been well considered, and that it is as cautious as it must be clearly defined. Any mistake would be simply fatal to the preservation of good relations with China. Therefore, we must do nothing. Quieta non movere must be our motto, and we must only look forward to some auspicious occasion when it may be possible to enter into cordial relations with China.

But, although our hands are tied in Central Asia, they are not fettered at Pekin, and we certainly should congratulate, if we have not done so already, the Chinese on their remarkable successes in the Tian Shan regions. That step might be pregnant with beneficent results, and our desire to be on good terms with our new, yet our old, neighbour might be met in a cordial manner by the Chinese. The Chinese will not stoop to propitiate us in order to preserve their rule in Eastern Turkestan; but it is against common sense to suppose that they will be eager to embroil themselves with us at the same moment that they are quarrelling with the Russians. The Kuldja question must throw China into our alliance, if we are not precipitate, and do not offer her any slight by meddling with this semi-independent chief of Khoten, who is said to have overthrown a Chinese detachment. And, in negotiating with the rulers of Kashgaria, we must remember that commercial advantages are all very well, but that political are infinitely more important. It has been tersely said that we patronized Yakoob Beg in order to make a market for Kangra tea; but the very trivial advantages we secured in a commercial sense were far more than counterbalanced by the political disadvantages we derived from a recognition of the Athalik Ghazi. In dealing with the Chinese we must not set before us, as our guiding star, the privilege of supplying the good people of Kashgar and Yarkand with tea and other necessaries. What we aspire to is to be on terms of amity with China, as a power in Central Asia, which will possess everything it desires when Ili has been restored, and which most accordingly be inclined to resent with us the undue aggrandizement of Russia. These are the future advantages that may accrue from an understanding between England and China. But at the present juncture there are others similar in kind, but immediate in effect. The Afghan question, which now clamours for solution, and which will scarcely pass through this crisis without finding our hold on Cabul made more assured, is in many respects connected with the Kuldja.

In each case the ambition of Russia is the motive power, and in each she seeks to play her game with as little risk, and as much gain, as possible. In neither will she fight, if she can avoid the necessity, yet in each there is a point beyond which her honour and her interests alike refuse to permit her to remain concealed and neutral. The solution of the two questions is being worked out simultaneously, and the progress of the Afghan question will at least very seriously affect the later stages of the Kuldja. If Russia has to fight to defend Shere Ali, then we may be sure that Tso Tsung Tang's legions will not remain inactive, and that General Kolpakovsky will either have to beat a retreat to Vernoe, or engage in a war out of which, on his own resources alone, it will be impossible for him to issue victorious. If Russia interfere openly in defence of Shere Ali, Kuldja must be restored to the Chinese, otherwise Russia's flank would be exposed to a crushing blow, which the Chinese would not be slow to take advantage of. Present events on the Ili and on the Cabul have, therefore, this much in common, that they both aim, directly or indirectly, at the fabric of Russian supremacy in Central Asia. The occupation of Afghanistan by England, or even a partial occupation of it as is very probable, would seriously weaken Russian prestige in Western Turkestan. A Chinese occupation of Kuldja would undermine her position in Vernoe and Naryn and among the Kirghiz. Admitting these, is it not natural to suppose that in each case Russia will fight, or that, even if she does not fight in each case, she will fight in the one that she may deem of the most importance? But we need not pursue the subject farther. The Chinese are face to face with Russia in the heart of Central Asia, just as a few short months ago they were opposed to Yakoob Beg and the power of the Tungani.

Their army is drawn up in hostile array; it is each day becoming more numerous and more perfectly prepared. Its generals are the same who have led it to constant victory; its main body is the veterans of three campaigns. The Chinese are persuaded, and it is impossible to say not justly persuaded, of the righteousness of their cause. The Russians can have no equal confidence either in their strength, or in their moral position. They are not exactly championing a bad cause, or a lost one, but, in comparison to the Chinese, they have no legal position. It remains to be seen whether by force of arms, or by diplomatic superiority, they can make up for the flaw in their tenure of Kuldja. Farther on, in the vista of the events yet to come, there looms the prospect of an Anglo-Chinese alliance, that must be most beneficial to the peoples of Asia generally. But, before it will be possible for Englishmen to count upon the presence of the Chinese as a favourable "factor in the Central Asian question," our relations with China must be placed upon a firmer and a more friendly basis than any which has yet existed. We have it in our power to do this, and the ever-widening breach between Russia and China simplifies our task in no slight degree. The day will come when Russia will discover that the Kuldja question was no trivial matter at all, and that to it can be traced many important events in Central Asia. England may also recognize in it one of the most useful circumstances that have ever operated in her favour in her long rivalry with Russia. At the very crisis of our border history, when we are on the eve of dealing out well merited chastisement to an Ameer of Cabul, Russia finds herself weakened by being compelled to discuss a question with China, when her attention is required elsewhere. She will not yield what the Chinese demand, yet she dare not refuse; and the latter will simply bide their time until she is hampered elsewhere. It is no rash prophecy to say that China will be reinstalled, either by peaceful means or by force, in Kuldja before the close of next year, probably long before. An alliance between any two of the three great Asiatic Powers must then be conclusive in all Central Asian matters, and, before that alliance, the third will have the prudence to submit. It behoves us to learn our lesson, when that day comes, thoroughly and in good time.