READING HALL DOORS OF WISDOM

"THIRD MILLENNIUM LIBRARY"

BABAR

CHAPTER IX

KABUL AND KANDAHAR

Babar had scarcely returned to Kabul when the news came of the fall of Herat and the extermination of the dynasty of Husain. The King of Kabul was now the only reigning prince of the family of Timur, and the dejected adherents of the fallen house rallied round him as their sole hope in the general cataclysm caused by the triumph of Shaibáni. Even the Arghún brothers, Shah Beg and Mukím, rulers of Kandahar, who boasted a descent from Chingiz, and who had not forgiven Babar for depriving them of Kabul three years before, turned to him for shelter against the coming storm. The very Mukím, whom he had supplanted in 1504, begged him to come to Kandahar and defend it against the Uzbegs. Babar took the request as a mark of submission, and with his natural impetuosity marched at once to the rescue. When he arrived before Kandahar, however, he found that he was mistaken. Far from welcoming him as a deliverer and paying homage to him as their king, the Arghún brothers (who had already made terms with Shaibáni) treated him with the cool civility of equals, and even used certain forms in the letters that passed between them which were more customary in addressing an inferior. Babar was not a meek man, and this insolence was too much for ins fiery temper. He immediately prepared for action, and forming up his troops in a meadow near Kandahar, got ready to receive the enemy.

“My whole force” he says, “might amount to about two thousand, but... when the enemy appeared I had only about a thousand men with me. Though they were few in number, I had been at great pains to train and exercise them to the utmost point. Never, perhaps, were my troops in such perfect discipline. All my personal retainers who were fit were divided into companies of tens and fifties, and I had appointed officers for each, and assigned each company its proper station on the right or the left, so that they were all prepared and fully informed of what they were to do ... The right and left wings, the right and left [of the center], the right and left flanks, were to charge on horseback, and were drawn up and instructed to act of themselves without orders from the aides-de-camp; but in general all the troops knew their stations and whom to attack”.

The finer discipline of Babar’s small army told against the greatly superior numbers of the enemy. The account of the battle of Kandahar is too confused to be intelligible, but it appears that after the first rush of the hostile cavalry had driven his vanguard in upon the center, Babar’s wings pressed steadily on, seized the fords of the rivers, and after a fierce struggle put the Arghún forces to flight. The citadel opened its gates, and the conqueror found himself in possession of amazingly rich treasures: indeed, he declares, in delighted hyperbole, “no one ever was known to have seen so much money”. It was too much trouble to count it, so it was put into scales and divided by weight. The camp was gorged with plunder and spoils of every description, and the army marched back to Kabul driving asses laden with huge sacks of silver, weighing several hundredweight, which they loaded up as carelessly as if it were forage.

Except for the booty, the expedition was useless. Babar had hardly been home a week when he learned that his brother Nasir, lately returned from Badakhshan, whom he had left at Kandahar with a weak garrison, was shut up in the citadel, and that Shaibáni was vigorously pressing the siege. Luckily a rising in another part of his dominions called the Uzbeg away, and Nasir was able to retreat to Ghazni from his untenable position, which was immediately re-occupied by the Arghún brothers. The bare news, however, of Shaibáni’s approach had thrown Kabul into consternation. Nothing apparently could check the advance of this terrible Tartar, who had trampled upon all Transoxiana, Khuwárizm, Farghana, and Khurasán, and was now drawing nearer and nearer to the last refuge of the fallen house of Timur. To defend Kabul seemed hopeless, and Babar actually determined to fly. He had experienced Shaibáni’s strength before, more than once; the feud was deadly, and probably he never feared any man as he feared the Uzbeg chief. It is the only instance on record of downright panic in the man who ordinarily did not know the meaning of fear. He put a cousin in charge of the city, and gathering his troops together set out for India. He got as far as Adinapur (now Jalalabad, fighting his way among the Afghans, and occupied his men in the vain attempt to subdue this truculent people—“robbers and plunderers” he calls them, “even in time of peace”—until the news of Shaibáni’s retreat emboldened him to return to his capital. The advance into India, which he had so often contemplated, was again postponed.

At this time Babar assumed a new title,—a name, he says, never before used by any prince of the dynasty of Timur: he called himself Pádisháh, “emperor”, and by that style he was ever afterwards known. High-sounding as was the title, and great the wearer'’ state, he was still far from secure upon his throne. Shaibáni had indeed retreated, and never again troubled his peace, but the difficulties at Kabul were not over. He had left his cousin, “Abd-ar-Razzák, in command” with his natural want of suspicion, in spite of the fact that this cousin was the son of the late King Ulugh Beg, and had himself sat on the throne of Kabul. The ex-king offered no opposition when Babar returned to take over the government, but it would have been more than human if he had quite forgotten that ho had once worn the crown himself. Had he been strictly loyal to his cousin, the rebellion which followed might not have taken place. Three thousand of the Mongol troops, remnants of Khusrau Shah’s forces, rose in revolt, and proclaimed Abd-ar-Razzák king. They were tired of Babar’s just rule, and resented his stern suppression of their innate habits of license and marauding. he Mongols could not live without the diversions of plunder and rape, and a king who punished these excesses with death was not the sovereign for them. So “Satan took possession of their brains, and in the place of sound reason substituted vainglory and villainy, the crop of cursed natures”.

The idea of conspiracy and treachery was so utterly foreign to Babar’s open nature, that for a time he refused to believe the rumors that were brought to him of plots and secret meetings, and was taken completely by surprise. At the Iron Gate he was all but captured, and when he reached his camp outside the city he found himself so largely deserted by his men—some to join, others to flee from, the Mongols—that he could only muster five hundred horse. Even the camp bazar was plundered, and many of his trusty followers had hastened into Kabul, not from disaffection, but in the hope of rescuing their families from the horrors of a Mongol orgy. The Memoirs unfortunately break off at this critical moment, and Babar does not tell us himself of the exciting contest that ensued. We should give him credit for his usual courage :

                         No thought of flight,

None of retreat, no unbecoming deed

That argued fear

could be expected of Babar in such a strait; but fortunately we have the testimony of his cousin Haidar, not only that the Emperor led his little force with his own unswerving pluck against the rebels, but that it was “one of his greatest fights. After much giving and taking of blows and innumerable hand-to-hand conflicts, he broke and routed the foe. In that action he personally and alone engaged five different champions of the enemy, and with brave strokes and sword-cuts put them all to flight”.

The would-be king, Abd-ar-Razzák, fell into the conquerors hands, but was treated with generosity and set at liberty. There is nothing in Babar’s character more noble than his trustfulness and magnanimity towards his rivals, even after they had grossly deceived him. His brother Jahángir (whose drunken habits had before this brought him to the grave) had plotted against him, but Babar had treated him at Herat with all the-affection and respect which he had justly forfeited. His other brother, Nasir, had stirred up many of the tribes to desert their sovereign, and had marched with them to Badakhshan in open rebellion, eager to found a separate kingdom; and when he returned, broken and defeated, ashamed and distressed at his former doings, his forgiving brother “showed him not the least sign of displeasure, but ... conversed with him, and showed him marks of regard, to dissipate his uneasiness and embarrassment”. He even trusted him with the command of Kandahar, and, when that was lost, with Ghazni. In the same large-hearted way he forgave his cousin Abd-ar-Razzák. Rancor and bearing malice were feelings that Babar could not understand, at least against his kith and kin: he was sometimes implacable against other scoundrels, though seldom against anyone who had ever served him. He would welcome back, over and over again, officers who had deserted him in his hour of misfortune; and, far from bearing ill-will, when Mirza Haidar, son of the Dughlát Amir who had betrayed his trust at Kabul, sought refuge from the vengeance of Shaibáni at his hospitable court, in utter destitution, Babar gave him a reception which the grateful historian never forgot, though he expresses his sentiments in the turgid manner of a Persian euphuist :—

“When we reached Kabul we were received by Shirun Taghai, who was maternal uncle to the Emperor and myself, and one of the pillars of state. With a hundred marks of respect he invited me to his house, where I was entertained with distinction and kindness. Later the Emperor sent a message to say that after three days the happy hour would arrive when he would send for me ... When I came into his presence the joy-diffusing glance of the Emperor fell upon me, and from the excess of his love and the intensity of his kindness, strung pearls and set rubies began to rain down upon me from his benign, jewel-scattering eye. He extended towards me the hand of favor and bade me welcome. Having first knelt down, I advanced towards him. He then clasped me to the bosom of affection, drew me to the breast of fatherly love, and held me thus for a while. When he let me go, he would no longer allow me to observe the formalities of respect, but made me sit down at his side. While we were thus seated he said to me with great benevolence: “Your father and brother and all your relations have been made to drink the wine of martyrdom; but, thank God, you have come back to me again in safety. Do not grieve too much at their loss; for I will take their place, and whatever favor of affection you could have expected from them, that and more will I show you”. With such promises and tenderness did he comfort me, so that the bitterness of orphanage and the poison of banishment were driven from my mind... How can I ever show sufficient thankfulness? May God reward him with good things.

“Thus I passed a long time in the service of the Emperor, in perfect happiness and freedom from care; and he was for ever, either by promises of kindness or by threats of severity, encouraging me to study. If he ever noticed any little virtue or new acquisition, he would praise it in the highest terms, commend it to everybody, and invite their approbation. All that time the Emperor showed me such affection and kindness as a fond father shows his son and heir. It was a hard day for me when I lost my father, but the bitterness of my desolation became scarcely perceptible owing to the blessed favors of the Emperor. From this time to the year 918 [1508 to 15121, I remained in his service. Whenever he rode out I had the honor of riding at his side, and when he received friends I was sure to be among the invited. In fact, he never let me be separated from him. When I was studying, for example, directly my lesson was over he would send someone to fetch me. And in this fatherly way did he continue to treat me till the end of my stay”.

The grateful recollections of this child, who lived with Babar from his eighth to his twelfth year, bear the stamp of truth and genuine feeling. There was another refugee at Kabul, who arrived a couple of weeks before Mirza Haidar, and who enjoyed almost equal kindness at the Emperor’s hands. This was Said Khan, son of Ahmad Khan, Babar’s Mongolian uncle. He, too, fled from Shaibáni’s wrath, and reaching Kabul towards the close of 1508, was at once welcomed with every mark of honor. He used to say in after years : “Those days that I spent in Kabul were the freest from care or sorrow of any that I have ever experienced, or ever shall experience. I spent two years and a half at the court of this excellent prince, in a continual succession of enjoyments, and in the most complete abandonment to pleasure and absence of preoccupation. I was on friendly terms with all, and made welcome by all. I never suffered even a headache, unless from the effects of wine; and never felt distressed or sad, except on account of the ringlets of some beloved one”. “There existed” adds Haidar, “between these two great princes, perfect accord and love and trust”. Sa’id Khan possessed high rank and great influence, and, as events proved, might become a powerful rival; but there was no trace of jealousy or suspicion in the Emperor’s treatment of his guest. He was indeed a perfect host and an incomparable friend.

Two or three years passed by : tranquility reigned undisturbed at Kabul, whilst wars shook Persia and the Oxus regions almost to ruin. The cousin, Khan Mirza, who like others had once usurped Babar’s throne and been deposed and forgiven, took himself off to found a viceroyalty in Badakhshan, and, doubtless to their host’s relict, carried with him the intriguing grandmother Shan Begum, who came of the ancient stock of the Badakhshan kings, who traced their descent, they said, from Alexander the Great. Shan Begum went even further: “It has been our hereditary kingdom” she declared, “for 3000 years. Though I, being a woman, cannot myself attain to the sovereignty, yet my grandson, Khan Mirza, can hold it. Males descended from me and my children will certainly not be rejected”. Nor were they, for Khan Mirza reigned in Badakhshan till his death, in faithful subjection to his cousin.

Relieved of the presence of possible conspirators, the Emperor divided his time between the inevitable punitive expeditions against the Afghan tribes, the delights of great hunting parties, and the pleasure he always took in beautifying his capital and laying out gardens and parks. The continual round of enjoyments described by his visitor was no doubt shared to the full by the Emperor, the center and life of his society; but the break in the Memoirs from 1508 to 1519 deprives one of the minute record of the daily occupations of the writer which is so full and interesting at other periods, and one is thrown back upon the imagination to fill in the picture from the analogy of earlier and later years.

CHAPTER X

SAMARKAND

1510-1514 A.D.