Ali Arslan’s head was carried in triumph round the walls of Kashgar, into which the Moslems had retreated for the time, and it is supposed to be buried in the shrine that we visited. His body, however, rests at Ordam-Padshah, and Sir Aurel Stein writes that a mound covered with poplars from which flutter rags is all that marks the grave of the saint, although it is a peculiarly holy spot and is annually visited by hundreds of pilgrims.
There are various shrines outside the city that claim to cure particular diseases. A relative of Ali Arslan is interred in one of these, and before the fretted windows of his mazzar is an ancient willow that leans over nearly to the ground. If a patient afflicted with rheumatism will go round the tree seven times in a believing spirit, bending nearly double in order to rub his back against the bark, it is said that he will be freed from his complaint. Old Jafar Bai tried the treatment one day when we were there, but I never ventured to question him as to the result. The so-called Tombs of the Mongols outside the city seemed to me to be somewhat of a fraud, as the mud-domed graves were quite modern. But they are visited annually by thousands of the Faithful, who gamble, feast and have a day’s outing in the neglected cemetery, many, I was told, omitting to say their prayers.
To turn to another subject, although Kashgar is the seat of Government, the entrance of the yamen being marked by the masts, some seventy feet high, and the grotesque stone lions that signify authority, yet the Chinese troops are in barracks at Yangi Shahr (New City) some six or seven miles distant. This town is surrounded by high parapeted mud walls in good repair; two sally-ports have to be passed before the big bazar can be entered, and, as is customary, these entrances are crooked in order to foil the evil spirits. Just inside the Pai-fang, or roofed gateway, there is a Chinese temple, and over the gate a building in which paper prayers are burnt on fête days and the ashes flung to the heavens.
The stalls in the bazar, with their wooden shutters and matting awnings, seemed much the same as those in the Old City, but in Yangi Shahr the Celestial was at home instead of looking like an intruder, and soldiers in khaki uniforms and forage caps of German appearance were everywhere to be seen. Black, the royal colour of the Manchus, was still affected by the inhabitants, and most unsuitable wear it was for such a dusty place, but the flag of the Republic, with its five colours, flew over every yamen. It interested me to hear that the yellow stripe stood for China, the black for the Manchus, the red for the Mongols, the blue for Tibet, and the white for the Moslem subjects.
The Chinese seem to hold the province more by bluff than by force, the troops being few, of all ages, and not troubled by overmuch drill. Certainly the Governor and the Commander-in-Chief always go forth in considerable state with detonations of crackers in order to impress the populace, but as, owing to Chinese arrogance, the officials decline to learn any foreign language, they never get into touch with the people they are supposed to govern. Being intensely proud of their old civilization, they utterly decline to move with the times or absorb new ideas, and so are, as it were, petrified.
The upper classes are brought up to despise manual labour and are admirers of the pen, holding the sword in contempt, and as a result are often incapable of defending themselves if attacked. Social distinction goes by learning, a literatus being the equal of any one and invariably accorded a seat of honour at the yamen. Probably their unhealthy lives—for they take no exercise, love darkened rooms and are addicted to drink and opium-smoking—have brought them to this ignominious pass; and one Governor said that the long nails he affected were an excellent aid to self-control, for he could never clench his hand to strike any one in anger! They rule the province easily, because the inhabitants are a mild unwarlike race, accustomed for centuries to be under the heel of a conqueror and preferring the tolerant domination of China to that of Russia.
Liu-Kin-tang, the general who reconquered the province after the death of Yakub Beg, has a big temple erected to his honour outside the New City, and one afternoon we made an expedition to see it. It is just off the broad tree-planted road, always full of traffic, which is spanned by imposing-looking painted bridges that cross the Kizil Su. On our arrival we rode into a large courtyard, where we dismounted to pass through a fantastically decorated gateway into a second courtyard, and were met by the Governor of the City, whose robes of black and blue were crowned by a panama hat. One of his attendants wore a black felt “billy-cock” that looked oddly out of keeping with the rest of his costume, as did the caricatures of English straw hats that were affected by the others. The Governor escorted us to the temple, the façade of which was a blaze of gold, blue and scarlet mingled with Chinese inscriptions. The tomb of the famous general was under a carved canopy, over which gilded dragons careered, and before it was the hero’s portrait, an enlarged coloured photograph. An old bronze tripod for burning joss-sticks, and a great bronze bell that the Governor struck in order that we might hear its wonderful tone, stood in front of the photograph, and on one side of the tomb was a fresco of a black and white tiger. Formerly there were large paintings on the walls depicting the general’s career, but unluckily all these had been destroyed by a recent earthquake, and the temple had practically been rebuilt and was shorn of much of its original decoration.
I wondered whether Liu-Kin-tang at all resembled the general of an amusing story told us by Sir Aurel Stein. This Chinaman set out with an army of twelve thousand men to conquer an enemy that inhabited a very hilly country, and he was obliged to negotiate an extremely difficult pass in order to get into touch with the foe. His soldiers clambered to the crest of the ascent and, as he had foreseen, were seized with fear and refused to go farther, but took heart of grace when a body of the recalcitrant tribesmen came forward and tendered their submission. In reality these were devoted followers of the general, who had commanded them to disguise themselves, and on their appearance the army, with its moral restored, streamed gaily down the pass into what they imagined to be a conquered country. And so in effect it was; for the tribesmen, terrified at the great host, hastened to surrender, and thus fully justified the astute plan of the general.
The priest in charge of the temple, clad in black and wearing a curious cap, was a weird object, with long greasy hair standing out from his face, and I did my best to reproduce his Cheshire-cat grin with my kodak. When we had seen everything we were invited to partake of tea, and seated ourselves at a small table covered with a cloth badly in need of the wash. Our host put huge chunks of dingy-looking sugar into our glasses with his fingers, and with the same useful members helped us to little sponge cakes and thin biscuits made of toffee and meal. He himself had the usual little china bowl in which the tea is seethed; a small inverted bowl is placed on the top to prevent the escape of the leaves, and the tea is drunk through the crack between the two.
In common with most upper-class Chinese, the Governor looked ill and had bad teeth, and certainly the fondness of Celestials for turning night into day and carefully avoiding fresh air makes them look very different from the robust Kashgaris, who are at their best on horseback and are essentially an outdoor race. A Celestial is proud of his half-inch-long finger-nails, which show that he has never condescended to manual labour, and if he lives abroad he will send his parents a packet of nail-parings in order to assure them that he is one of the literati, who are treated with such consideration throughout the Empire. When forced to travel a Chinaman will not ride, but will go in a mapa. This is a painted cart having a blue and black awning and a tasteful dash of scarlet at the back, on which a charm is inscribed, and there are jingling bells on the horses to ward off evil spirits. But the lower classes are very different; strong, hardy and uncomplaining, and seeming to bear out the saying—“A Chinaman is ill only once in his life, and that is when he is dying.”