ZAHIR-UD-DIN MUHAMMAD, sur- named Babur, “the Tiger,” was born in A.D. 1482. He was a Jaghtai Turk by race, and descended from two of the greatest conquerors in history, the mighty Timur-el-leng on his father’s side and Chingiz Khan on his mother’s.
His ancestral home was in Ferghana, what is now Russian Turkestan, a pleasant country of vales and mountains lying between the Oxus and the Syr Darya rivers, abounding in roses, melons, apricots and pomegranates and full of game to give sport to the hunter. His father, Shaikh Umar, was a companionable man, inclined, as Babur tells us in his Memoirs, to corpulence. and apt to burst open his tunic if he moved too hastily after a meal.
He was fond of backgammon, and could on occasion turn out tolerable verses. He was frank and honest, but had a violent temper; he was very skilful with his fists, and never hit a man without knocking him down. “His generosity was large, and so was his whole soul; he was of a rare humour, genial, eloquent, and sweet in his discourse, yet brave withal and manly.” Babur’s uncle, the King of Samarkand, was a great soldier and a bit of a dandy.
He always wore his turban with the fold tied exactly over the eyebrow, and was so well- mannered that on one occasion he sat for hours on a bone rather than uncross his legs in the presence of his preceptor. He had, however, the family failing for strong drink, and on occasion would carouse with his courtiers day and night without a break for twenty or thirtydays on end. Babur himself was a true child of his race, handsome, affable and fearless; he was an expert polo-player, and a deadly shot with the bow. He would plunge into an ice-cold mountain torrent and swim it, and could run along the battlements of Samarkand with a man under each arm, leaping the embrasures as he went.
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In 1494 Shaikh Umar died. He was inspecting a pigeon-cote on the cliff side, when it collapsed and fell over the precipice, carrying him with it. Immediately anarchy broke out in Samarkand, and Babur had to flee; but three years later, at the age of twelve, he returned, routed his rivals and restored order. Samarkand was in his hands, however, for only a short time. While he was away on an expedition his enemies seized the city, and he found himself once more an. exile. After wandering about the country for another three years, in 1500 he suddenly swooped down again on Samarkand with a handful of followers, two hundred and forty in all. Some hardy spirits scaled the wall and threw open the gates. “The city was asleep. Only some shopkeepers, peeping out, discovered what had happened and gave thanks to God. Soon the news spread, and the citizens, with great joy and congratulations, fraternised with my men.” The boy king was seated on the throne under the Royal Arch in the beautiful home of his fathers, with its orchards and pleasure gardens, the Kiosk adorned with pictures of Chinzig Khan’s exploits, the China House with its blue tiles, its college and observatory, and the famous Palace of the Forty Pillars.
But his triumph was destined to be shortlived. In the following year, Shahi Beg, the great Khan of the Uzbegs, advanced to expel him. Babur, who was still only a headstrong boy, rashly accepted battle with his more experienced opponent, who turned his flank and drove him in disorder to take shelter behind the walls of the town. Samarkand was besieged, and so close was the blockade that the poor were reduced to eating dogs and donkeys, and the horses browsed on the branches of trees.
There was no help for it, and Babur soon found himself once more a wanderer on the face of the earth. But nothing daunted his spirits. “On the road,” he writes, “I had a race with Kambar Ali and Basim Beg. My horse got the lead. As I turned round on my seat to see how far I had left them behind, my saddle turned, the girth being slack, and I fell right on my head. Though I sprang up and remounted, I did not recover the full possession of my senses until the evening.” At the time of the evening prayer they halted and killed a horse, from which they cut some steaks. At nightfall they came to a village where they were given some fine fat meat, sweet melons and grapes, and so they passed “from the extremity of famine to plenty, and from calamity to peace and ease.” “In all my life,” Babur says, “I never enjoyed myself so much. Enjoyment after suffering, abundance after want, come with increased relish and affords more exquisite delight.”
This was in 1502, and the next two years Babur spent roaming about the countryside with a tiny body of followers, mixing freely with the shepherds and peasants, who accorded to him the hospitality always forthcoming in the East. It was the kind of life he loved, and on one occasion, to his delight, he stayed with a village elder whose old mother, aged one hundred and eleven, could remember talking to soldiers who had served in the army of his great grandfather, Timur, when they raided India in 1398. Perhaps this first put into Babur’s head the idea of a similar exploit, for he was already meditating all sorts of wild schemes, including a visit to China. He visited an uncle, and joined him in an expedition against an old rival, Beg Ahmad Tambal. It resulted in some bonny fighting. On one occasion he met his foe in single combat. “Except for his horse, Tambal was completely in mail. I had on my cuirass, and carried my sabre and bow and arrows. I drew up to my ear and sent my arrow right at his head, when at the same instant an arrow struck me on the right thigh and pierced me through and through. Tambal rushed in, and with the great Samarkand sword I had given him smote me such a blow on my steel headpiece as to stun me. Though not a link of the cap was cut, my head was severely bruised. I had neglected to clean my sword, so that it was rusty and I lost time in drawing it. I was alone, solitary, in the midst of foes. It was no time for standing still, so I turned my bridle, receiving another sabre stroke on my quiver.”
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On another occasion, when he was fighting a chieftain named Shaikh Bayazid, he suddenly ran into his opponent in a narrow lane. “Kuli Kukildash struck down one foot-soldier with his mace and had passed another, when the fellow aimed an arrow at Ibrahim Beg, who baulked him by shouting ‘Hai! Hai!’ and went on; but the man, being no further off than the porch from the hall, let fly an arrow which hit me under the arm. I had on a Kalmak mail, and two of its plates were pierced and shivered by the shot. Then he fled, and I sent an arrow after him which caught a foot-soldier who happened just then to be flying along the rampart, and pinned his cap to the wall, where it stood transfixed. A man on horseback passed close by me. I gave him the point of my sword on the temple; he swerved over as if to fall, but caught the wall and, thus supported, recovered his seat and escaped.” Once when tie was lying exhausted, with closed eyes, he heard two men arguing with one another which of them should strangle him. He looked up and said, “That’s all very well, but I am curious to see which of you dares to approach me first.” His would-be assailants promptly changed their minds and decamped!
But at length Babur was forced to acknowledge that Samarkand could not be retaken. With a heavy heart he turned his face southward. One of his many uncles had been King of Kabul; he had lately died, leaving the state in disorder. Why not carve out a kingdom for himself there? “I here entered my twenty-third year,” he notes, “and had begun to use the razor to my face. The followers who still clave to me, great and small, were more than two hundred and less than three. Most of them were on foot, with brogues on their feet, clubs in their hands, and tattered cloaks over their shoulders. So poor were we that we had only two tents. My own I gave to my mother, and they pitched for me at every halt a felt tent of cross poles, in which I took up my quarters.” As he marched, men began to flock to his standard, and at last the force, moving by night up the high passes of the Hindu Kush, reached the summit and saw beneath them the Promised Land. A brilliant star was shining overhead. “Surely that cannot be Suhail (Cano- pus)?” cried Babur; and one of his companions answered in an extemporised couplet-
“O Suhail, how far dart thou shine, and in what distant shy dost thou rise ?
Good hap to the storm-beaten wanderer shines bright in the light of thine eyes.
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Kabul was occupied early in October, 1504. Babur was enraptured with his new kingdom. There were melons in abundance, and fresh flowers and birds to study. Babur, with the keen interest which he always felt in natural history, tells us that he counted thirty-three distinct species of tulips. He describes how the local sportsmen lassoed herons and netted shoals of fish by stupefying them, and he knew that birds could be caught in thousands when exhausted by their migration over the Hindu-Kush. His favourite spots were the Garden of Fidelity, with its lake bordered by oranges and pomegranates, and the Fountain of Three Friends, where he loved to sit and discourse with his boon companions. “When the flowers are in bloom, the yellow mingling with the red, I know no place on earth to compare with it.” On the hillside, near Kabul, he cut out a cistern which he lined with granite. It was filled with red wine, and on the sides he inscribed the following stanza:
“Give me but wine and lovely girls, All other joys I freely spurn; Enjoy them, Babur, while you may, For youth once past will ne’er return.”
Here Babur loved to sit, with his group of “noble and illustrious drinkers,” passing round the wine-cup, capping verses and watching the dancing-girls, on the rare occasions when he was not fighting, hunting, playing polo, or laying out parks and gardens to beautify his new capital.
The Afghans were a turbulent and independent race, as fond of war as their descendants are today. It took a hard campaign to bring them to their senses, and many a good man and true “drank the wine of martyrdom” ere they were quelled. But at length he beat them so thoroughly that the leaders prostrated themselves before him, “with grass between their teeth, as who should say, ‘I am thine ox.’ ” He varied his warlike expeditions by a visit to Herat, the chief centre of culture in the Middle East, with its hundred colleges, its poets, musicians and artists. Here Babur, with his usual gusto, vastly enjoyed the dinner parties and the cultured society of the jeunesse doree, until alarming tidings arrived of a revolt at Kabul. It was mid-winter and the passes were covered with snow, but there was no help for it. During this terrible journey an incident occurred which goes far to explain the devotion with which Babur inspired his followers. The force was lost in a snowdrift and seemed likely to perish. A cave was discovered, but Babur refused to take shelter in it. “I felt that for me to be in a warm dwelling and in comfort while my men were in the midst of snow and drift-for me to be within, enjoying sleep and ease, while my followers were in trouble and distress, would be inconsistent with what I owed them, and a deviation from that society of suffering that was their due. So I remained sitting in the snow and wind in the hole that I had dug out, with snow four hands thick on my head, back and ears.” The next morning a path was discovered, and all found their way down to safety. The revolt was easily crushed, and in 1512 there appeared to be a chance of retaking Samarkand. But Babur’s triumph was short-lived. After holding the city for eight months he was compelled to evacuate it and return to Kabul. But Babur could never sit still for long, and he was already meditating fresh conquests. If the north was barred to him, why not carve out a fresh empire in the rich valleys of the Indus and the Ganges?
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“From the year 910 (A.D. 1504), when I obtained the principality of Kabul, I had never ceased to think of the conquest of Hindustan. But I had never found a suitable opportunity for undertaking it, hindered as I was, sometimes by the apprehensions of my Begs, sometimes by disagreements between my brothers and myself. Finally all these obstacles were happily removed. Great and small, Begs and Captains, no one dared to say a word against the project. So in 1519 I left at the head of my army and made a start by taking Bajaur. From this time to 1525-26 I was always actively concerned in the affairs of Hindustan. I went there in person at the head of an army five times in the course of seven or eight years. The fifth time, by the munificence and liberality of God, there fell beneath my blows an enemy as formidable as Sultan Ibrahim, and I gained the vast empire of Hind. As it was always in my heart to possess Hindustan, and as these several countries had once been held by the Turks, I pictured them as my own, and was resolved to get them into my own hands, whether peacefully or by force. For these reasons, it being imperative to treat the hillmen well, this order was given: ‘Do no hurt or harm to the flocks and herds of these people, nor even to their cotton-ends and broken needles!’ “
On Friday, November 17, 1525, “when the Sun was in Sagittarius,” Babur finally set out for Hindustan. His whole force only numbered 12,000, including camp-followers, but he had been promised the help of Daulat Khan, the Governor of Lahore, who was in rebellion against Ibrahim Lodi, the Afghan Sultan of Delhi. When he reached the Punjab, the faithless Daulat Khan changed his mind, but was easily defeated. Babur then, to quote his own words, “placed his foot in the stirrup of resolution and his hand on the reins of confidence in God, and marched against Sultan Ibrahim, the son of Sultan Iskander, the son of Sultan Bahlol Lodi Afghan, in whose possession the throne of Delhi and the dominions of Hindustan at that time were; whose army in the field was said to amount to a hundred thousand men and who, including those of his Amirs, had nearly a thousand elephants.”
The two armies met on April 21, 1524, at Panipat, the historic battle-ground in the gap between the mountains and the desert, where the fate of India has been so often decided. Babur’s force was only a tenth that of his enemy’s, but while at Kabul he had acquired a number of firearms, a weapon hitherto almost unknown in the East. These consisted of cannon, swivel-guns and matchlocks, under the command of a master-gunner named Ustad Ali Kuli. The traditional Mongol manoeuvre was to lager the waggons, and while the enemy was assaulting them, to counter-attack simultaneously on both flanks with swift masses of cavalry. Babur adopted these tactics. Resting his right flank on the walled town of Panipat, he made a lager of waggons in front, with guns at regular intervals, while his left was protected by an abattis of logs. His opponent, a rash and unskillful young man, was tempted into making a frontal attack, hoping by means of his elephants to crush down the rough defences in front of him. This was just as Babur desired. Withholding his fire until the elephants were at point-blank range, he suddenly opened on them with all his guns. The poor brutes stampeded and spread confusion in their own ranks, whereupon the Mongol cavalry sallied forth and took the enemy in flank, pouring in volleys of arrows from horseback and then charging home.
By midday the battle was over. Sultan Ibrahim and 20,000 men lay dead on the field. The spoils were immense. Gold and silver, cloth and jewels and slaves were heaped upon the officers of the victorious force, and every soul in Kabul received a silver piece. To the share of Babur’s son, the young prince Humayun fell the fairest prize of all, the great Koh-i-Nur diamond, once reputed to have belonged to the Pandava princes, and said to be the most wonderful jewel in the world. Before the enemy could recover the invaders were knocking at the gates of Delhi. The capital surrendered and Babur’s name was read from the pulpit of the Great Mosque in the Friday Prayers as Emperor of Hindustan.
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It was now the height of the hot weather, and the climate was well- nigh unendurable to men born and bred in the hills. Their idea was to descend into the plains to gather plunder and then to return to their mountain homes; to settle in this strange and unprepossessing country was more than they bargained for. But Babur won them over in a statesmanlike speech.
“I told them that empire and conquest could not be acquired without the materials and means of war; that royalty and nobility could not exist without subjects and dependent provinces; that by the labour of many years, after undergoing great hardships, measuring many a toilsome journey and raising various armies, and after exposing myself and my troops to circumstances of great danger, to battle and bloodshed, by the divine favour I had routed my formidable enemy, and achieved the conquest of the numerous provinces and kingdoms which we at present held: ‘And now, what force compels, and what hardship obliges us, without any visible cause, after having worn out our life in accomplishing the desired achievement, to abandon and fly from our conquests, and to retreat back to Kabul with every symptom of disappointment and discomfiture? Let not anyone who calls himself my friend ever henceforward make such a proposal. But if there is any among you who cannot bring himself to stay, or to give up his purpose of returning back, let him depart.’ Having made them this fair and reasonable proposal, the discontented were of necessity compelled, however unwillingly, to renounce their seditious purposes.”
As a matter of fact, he had himself a very poor opinion of India and its inhabitants, and his remarks on the subject are couched in his usual shrewd and penetrating manner.
“Hindustan is a country that has few pleasures to recommend it. The people are not handsome. They have no idea of the charms of friendly society, of frankly mixing together, or familiar intercourse. They have no genius, no comprehension of mind, no politeness of manner, no kindness or fellow-feeling, no ingenuity or mechanical invention in planning or executing their handicraft works, no skill or knowledge in design or architecture; they have no horses, no good flesh, no grapes or musk-melons, no good fruits, no ice or cold water, no good food or bread in their bazaars, no baths or colleges, no candles, no torches, not a candlestick. Beside their rivers and standing waters, they have some running water in their ravines and hollows; but they have no aqueducts or canals in their gardens or palaces. In their buildings they study neither elegance nor climate, appearance nor regularity. The chief excellency of Hindustan is, that it is a large country and has abundance of gold and silver. The climate during the rains is very pleasant. On some days it rains ten, fifteen and even twenty times. During the rainy season inundations come pouring down all at once and form rivers, even in places where at other time there is no water. While the rains continue on the ground the air is singularly delightful, insomuch that nothing can surpass its soft and agreeable temperature. Its defect is, that the air is rather moist and damp. During the rainy season you cannot shoot even with the bow of our country and it becomes quite useless. Nor is it the bow alone that becomes useless: coats of mail, books, clothes and furniture all feel the bad effects of the moisture. Their houses, too, suffer from not being substantially built. There is pleasant enough weather in the winter and summer, as well as in the rainy season; but then the north wind always blows, and there is an excessive quantity of earth and dust flying about. When the rains are at hand, this wind blows five or six times with excessive violence, and such a quantity of dust flies about that you cannot see one another. A convenience of Hindustan is that the workmen of every profession and trade are innumerable and without end. For any work, or any employment, there is always a set ready, to which the same employment and trade have descended from father to son for ages.”
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Babur at once set to work to make life more tolerable by planting gardens with his favourite flowers and fruits, and by employing Hindu builders to erect palaces after the manner of those in his native country.
But an even greater danger loomed ahead. He had found it a comparatively easy matter to deal with his Afghan coreligionists, but now he heard that the Rajput clans had been called together by the Rana Sangram Singh, the “Sun of Mewar,” to drive the infidel intruders from the sacred soil of India. The Rajput army, 80,000 horse and 500 elephants, commanded by one hundred and twenty chieftains of ancient lineage, were the flower of Hindu chivalry. The Rana himself had beaten the Afghans in eighteen pitched battles. He was a mere “fragment of a man,” who had lost an arm and an eye in the field. Babur advanced from Agra to a place called Kanua to await the approach of his opponents. He adopted the Mongol tactics, which had proved so successful against Ibrahim Lodi. His waggons were bound together with iron chains, with the cannon at intervals, and, in addition, he had mounted his matchlocks on wheeled tripods which could be moved quickly to any threatened point. His flanks were protected by deep ditches and entanglements.
Babur’s men became nervous as the mighty Rajput host approached, but their leader never lost heart. Ever since he became King of Kabul he had taken to the habit of drinking heavily, in defiance of the precepts of Islam. Now he took a vow that, if God gave him victory, he would never touch strong drink again. All his beautiful drinking- cups were collected and broken to pieces in front of the army, and the wine spilt on the ground. Then he addressed his men:
“Noblemen and soldiers! Every man that comes into the world is subject to dissolution. When we are passed away and gone, God only survives, unchangeable. Whoever comes to the feast of life must, before it is over, drink from the cup of death. He who arrives at the inn of mortality must one day inevitably take his departure from that house of sorrow, the world. How much better is it to die with honour than to live with infamy!
“The Most High God has been propitious to us, and has now placed us in such a crisis, that if we fall in the field we die the death of martyrs; if we survive, we rise victorious, the avengers of the cause of God. Let us then, with one accord, swear on God’s Holy Word that none of us will even think of turning his face from this warfare, nor desert from the battle and slaughter that ensues, till his soul is separated from his body.”
The army, inspired by these noble words, swore an oath on the Koran to conquer or die. On March 16th, 1527, scouts brought word that the enemies were approaching. Babur immediately drew up his men in three bodies, with a strong reserve, and galloped down the line with words of advice and encouragement. The attack began soon after. Wave after wave of Rajputs threw themselves upon the line, and Babur’s artillery did terrible execution. When the enemy had exhausted himself in these fruitless charges, Babur ordered a simultaneous advance in the centre and on either flank. At length the gallant Rajputs began to yield ground, and were pursued relentlessly to their camp, losing enormous numbers of men. A ghastly minaret of heads was erected on the battlefield, and Babur took the title of Ghazi, or Victor in a Holy War. There was still much work to be done, but in the following year the great stronghold of Chanderi was captured, thanks chiefly to Ustad Ali’s heavy artillery and Babur then undertook expeditions for the purpose of overthrowing the independent Afghan Kingdoms in Bihar and Bengal. By the end of the year he was master of Hindustan, and the foundations of the Mughal Empire were well and truly laid.
He did not, however, live long to enjoy his triumph. His few remaining months of life were spent in organising his new kingdom. The more settled lands were given as jagirs or fiefs to his officers, who paid a fixed sum to the Crown, which they recovered by means of land-taxes levied on the peasants, duties on merchandise, and the jaziah or poll-tax on non-Muslims. In outlying districts the zamindars or landholders, Hindu and Muslim, were left undisturbed. Hindu masons and gardeners were hard at work beautifying his new capital at Agra, where, in December, 1529, he gave a grand Durbar, attended by ambassadors from Persia, Herat and Bengal. There were fights between elephants and camels and rams, wrestling matches and jugglers and dances by nautch-girls.
But Babur was happiest with his family, his beloved son Humayun, and his three daughters, “Rosy-face,” “Rose- blush” and “Rose-body.” In December, 1530, Humayun was taken ill with fever, and lay at the point of death. Babur was distracted, and determined to lay down his life for him if he could. The wise men begged him to sacrifice anything-his riches or even the great Koh-i-nur diamond. “Is there any stone,” he answered, “that can be weighed against my son?” Walking thrice round the sick-bed, he prayed, “On me be the sickness.” Then suddenly he cried joyfully, “I have prevailed! I have taken it!” And from that moment Humayun gradually recovered, but Babur sickened and died.
He passed away on December 16, 1530. One of his last acts was to call the nobles together and put their hands in Humayun’s in token of investiture. He was indeed “a very perfect, gentle knight,” dauntless in adversity, merciful in the hour of victory, a lover of beauty and a loyal friend. He sleeps in a garden on the hillside in Kabul, by the flowers and the running stream where he once delighted to sit and gaze on the beautiful world. “His permanent place in history,” says Professor Lane “rests upon his Indian conquests.” He laid the first stone of the splendid fabric which his grandson, Akbar, achieved. But his place in biography and literature is determined rather by his daring adventures and the delightful Memoirs in which he related them. Soldier of fortune as he was, Babur was not the less a man of fine literary taste and fastidious critical perception. In Persian, the language of culture, the Latin of Central Asia, he was an accomplished poet, and in his native Turki he was master of a pure and unaffected style, alike in prose and verse. As his cousin, himself an excellent historian, writes: “No one of his family before him ever possessed such talents, nor did any of his race perform such amazing exploits or experience such strange adventures.”