Kashmir, described by Sir Francis Younghusband, painted by Major E. Molyneux

by Sir Francis Edward Younghusband

The state of Kashmir when Gulab Singh took it over was deplorable. The Government took from two-thirds to three-quarters of the gross produce of the land—about three times as much as is now taken. The crops when cut by the cultivators were collected in stacks. One-half was taken as the regular Government share, and additional amounts were taken as perquisites of various kinds, leaving one-third or even only a quarter with the cultivators. Of this some was taken in kind and some in cash. The whole system of assessment and collection was exceedingly complicated and workable only in the interests of the corrupt officials; and Government held a monopoly in the sale of grain. Gulab Singh during his lifetime did very little to ameliorate this state of things. He took things as he found them and troubled little to improve them. He died in 1857, and was succeeded by his son Ranbir Singh, who rendered valuable services to Government during the Mutiny, and received, in recognition, the right to adopt from collateral branches an heir to the succession on the failure of heirs-male of Gulab Singh on whom alone the country had been conferred by the British. Maharaja Ranbir Singh died in 1885.

During his reign there was a steady improvement, but it was very slow, and an account of the condition of Kashmir then reads curiously ill beside the account of the province now after nearly a quarter of a century of the present Maharaja's reign. The Maharaja Ranbir Singh himself was extremely popular both with his people and with Europeans—in this respect being a marked contrast to his father. He was manly, fond of sport, affectionate in his family, and simple and moral in his private life. And Mr. Drew has given a pleasant picture of how this chief, in the old-fashioned way so liked by the people and so conducive of good relations between rulers and subjects, used to sit daily in public Durbar in full view of his people, receiving and answering his people's petitions.

AKBAR'S BRIDGE, KARALLAYAR

With the vastly more complicated system of administration of the present day it is practically impossible for a ruler of Kashmir to conduct his business on precisely these lines; but I have seen the same system working in Chitral, and quite realise the advantages it has for small states. If it does nothing else it teaches the people good manners, for they learn from observation of others how to comport themselves in high society. But these public Durbars are also an education of no small value. Here the people discuss men and events. They learn character and hear outside news, and it is surprising to see how much more native intelligence, dignity, and character men brought up in these conditions have than the school-bred men of to-day.

Ranbir Singh was then a typical ruler of a type that is now almost gone. Unfortunately he had not the officials capable of the immense labour required to remove the terrible effects of many centuries of misgovernment, and especially of the harsh, cruel rules of the Afghans and Sikhs. His officials were accustomed to the old style of rule and knew no better. In the early 'sixties cultivation was decreasing; the people were wretchedly poor, and in any other country their state would have been almost one of starvation and famine; justice was such that those who could pay could at any time get out of jail, while the poor lived and died there almost without hope. There were few men of respectable, and none of wealthy appearance; and there were almost prohibitive duties levied on all merchandise imported or exported. By the early 'seventies some slight improvement had taken place. The labouring classes as a general rule were well fed and well clothed, and fairly housed. Both men and women were accustomed to do hard and continuous labour, and it was obvious that they could not do this and look well unless they were well nourished. Their standard of living was not high, but they certainly had enough to eat. And this is not surprising, for a rupee would buy 80 to 100 lbs. of rice, or 12 lbs. of meat, or 60 lbs. of milk. Fruit was so plentiful that mulberries, apples, and apricots near the villages were left to rot on the ground. And fish near the rivers could be bought for almost nothing. Crime of all kinds was rare, chiefly because of the remembrance of the terrible punishments of Gulab Singh's time, and because of the system of fixing responsibility for undetected crime upon local officials. Drunkenness, too, was almost unknown. About half a lakh of rupees was spent upon education, and another half-lakh on repairing the "paths." A slight attempt was also made to assess the amount of land revenue at a fixed amount This much was to the good, but yet the country was still very far indeed from what it ought to have been. The means of communication were rough and rude in the extreme, so that men instead of animals had to be used as beasts of burden. Even the new assessment of the land revenue was three times as heavy as that of the amount demanded in British districts in the Punjab. And there was still much waste land which the people were unwilling to put under cultivation, because under the existing system of land revenue administration they could not be sure that they would ever receive the results of their labour. A cultivator would only produce as much as would, after payment of his revenue, provide for the actual wants of himself and his family, because he knew by experience that any surplus would be absorbed by rapacious underling officials. In matters of trade there were, too, still the impediments of former days. Upon every branch of commerce there was a multiplicity and weight of exactions. No product was too insignificant, and no person too poor to contribute to the State. The manufacture or production of silk, saffron, paper, tobacco, wine, and salt were all State monopolies. The sale of grain was a State monopoly, and though the State sold grain at an extraordinarily cheap rate, the officials in charge did not always sell it to the people who most required it, or in the quantity they required. Favourite and influential persons would get as much as they wanted, but often to the public the stores would be closed for weeks together, and at other times the grain was sold to each family at a rate which was supposed to be proportionate to the number of persons in the family; but the judges of the said quantity were not the persons most concerned, viz. the purchasers, but the local authorities. Private grain trade could not be openly conducted, and when the stocks in the country fell short of requirements they could not be replenished by private enterprise.

On the manufacture of shawls parallel restrictions were placed. The wool was taxed as it entered Kashmir; the manufacturer was taxed for every workman he employed, and at various stages of the process according to the value of the fabric; and, lastly, the merchant was taxed, before he could export the goods, the enormous duty of 85 per cent ad valorem. Butchers, bakers, carpenters, boatmen, and even prostitutes were still taxed, and coolies who were engaged to carry loads for travellers had to give up half their earnings.

The whole country, in fact, was still in the grip of a grinding officialdom; and the officials were the remnants of a bygone, ignorant, and destructive age, when dynasties and institutions and life itself were in daily danger, when nothing was fixed and lasting, when all was liable to change and at the risk of chance, and each man had to make what he could while he could; and when, in consequence, a man of honesty and public spirit had no more chance of surviving than a baby would have in a battle.

No wonder that in 1877, when—through excess of rain which destroyed the crops—famine came on the land, neither were the people prepared to meet the emergency, nor were the officials capable of mitigating its effects, and direful calamity was the consequence.