* IN short the Khán, having finally arranged the above-mentioned affairs, set out from Máryul in Tibet, for Yárkand. I attended him on his first stage, and then, with evil forebodings, took a touching and melancholy leave of him. [Two couplets]… Four days later I received a letter in the Khán's own handwriting, stat­ing that he had crossed the pass of Sákri,* and that the feelings of weakness which he apprehended, had not come over him. He had reached Nubra in safety and was camped there, intending to proceed towards Yárkand after the festival of the Sacrifice. [Turkish quatrain.] The last letter sent me from the Khán's [camp] was to the following effect:—Having celebrated the Festival of the Sacrifice, they set forth on their homeward road with all speed. When they had crossed the ice passes [muzájat]* a grave change for the worse took place in the Khán's condition, from the effects of that hell-tainted air. From that place to a region where there was no dam-giri, was eight days' journey. (I have already explained the symptoms of this malady, in my account of Tibet.) All the Amirs were agreed that both hurry and delay were to be feared. Still, they considered that a place where there was no dam-giri should be reached as quickly as possible, hoping that the Khán's natural strength would enable him to combat the violence of the malady, until such a spot should be attained. If they delayed any longer in a neighbourhood where dam-giri prevailed, his strength might not hold out. [Couplet] …

But the ill-advised nobles, foremost among whom was Mirzá Ali Taghái, mounted the Khán, in his weak condition, upon his horse, and then started with all speed, supporting him on every side. As it is dangerous [with this malady] to remain in an upright position, it would have been proper to construct a litter. But these Amirs excused themselves for not making one, on the ground that it could not be carried over the passes. [Verse]… They made eight days' journey in four, and at eventide prayers they arrived within three farsákhs of a stage where dam-giri is less prevalent. There, suddenly, the Khán's strength gave way before the violence of his malady, and his nature became utterly exhausted by that hell-tainted climate.* Thus did the pure soul of that noble-minded and just ruler hasten to the regions of the blessed. [Three couplets]… This awful and heartrending event happened on the 16th of Zulhijja in the year 939 [9 July, 1533]. After this calamity many terrible and strange things came about, of which I shall speak presently.

The life of the Khán, his noble character and worthy qualities have already been fully described in these pages: but although an account of the whole of his life is contained in this history, the context has rendered it necessary to give the facts in a some­what disjointed and scattered manner. I will therefore add here a brief recapitulation. His genealogy is as follows: Abul Fath Sultán Said Khán Gházi, was son of Sultán Ahmad Khán, son of Yunus Khán, son of Shir Ali Khán,* son of Muhammad Khán, son of Khizir Khwája Khán, son of Tughluk Timur Khán. The descent of Tughluk Timur Khán from Japhet, the son of Noah, is traced in both the Mujma ut Tavárikh and in the Prolegomena to the Zafar-Náma, and God willing, the details shall be given in the first part [of this history]; I will therefore avoid repeating it [in this place].

He was born in Moghulistán in the year 892 [1487]. He received his name from his distinguished grandfather, Yunus Khán. Up to the age of fourteen he remained in Moghulistán, under the care and guidance of his father. But when Sultán Ahmad Khán went to Táshkand to meet his brother Sultán Mahmud Khán, he took the [young] Khán with him. On the occasion when the battle took place between Sháhi Beg Khán and the two brothers, at Akhsi, in which the Kháns were defeated, the [young] Khán being wounded, fell into the hands of Shaikh Báyazid, who was Governor of Akhsi. As was shown above, there was but an insincere alliance between Shaikh Báyazid and Sháhi Beg Khán. [Shaikh Báyazid] detained the Khán in prison one year, but the following year Sháhi Beg Khán came and put Shaikh Báyazid, and his brother Tambal, to death, and conquered the province of Farghána. He next released the Khán from his confinement in Akhsi, and took him with him on the expedition which resulted in the capture of Hisár and Kunduz. On his return from that expedition, [Sháhi Beg] set out to attack the Khwárizin.

The Khán, who was then sixteen years of age, having, together with seventeen other persons, escaped from Samarkand, went and joined his uncle, Sultán Mahmud Khán, in Moghulistán. Finally, fleeing after one of the contests in Moghulistán, he repaired to Andiján, where the governor, who was subject to Sháhi Beg Khán, threw him into prison, with the intention of putting him to death; but escaping thence, he took refuge with his cousin, Bábar Pádisháh, in Kábul. When the Emperor marched again upon Hisár, with the purpose of subduing Mávará-un-Nahr, he sent the Khán to Andiján. On reaching this place, it was given up to him by my uncle, who entered his service. When the Uzbeg a second time became masters of Mávará-un-Nahr, the Khán abandoned Andiján and went to Káshghar, which he took by force of arms, and there he reigned absolute during twenty years. At the end [of his reign] he undertook a holy war against Tibet, where, in the year 939, he died of dam-giri at the age of forty-seven.

He was a Hanifi by descent. In his youth he was addicted to forbidden pleasures, and little inclined towards laudable and becoming pursuits. On attaining the age of thirty-seven, he renounced all unlawful enjoyments and betook himself to a religious life, under the guidance of Hazrat Makhdumi Khwája Shaháb-ul-Millat wa ud-Din, better known as Khwája Khávand Mahmud. He devoted all his attention and thought to this noble course, fasting by day and watching by night.* In all his private gatherings little else was discussed but religious matters, and by these conferences he was much influenced. Justice had a strong hold over his mind, and in all his affairs he conformed with the Holy Law, never tiring of its observances, but rather delighting in them. He referred most questions to the spiritual courts [dár ush-shar] for settlement.

He had the greatest reverence for the Ulama. For this he was much blamed by the Sultáns of the day; but he answered them saying: “It is fitting to honour and exalt those of my own rank: these people, considering their station in life, cannot claim equality with the humblest of my servants, but I reverence them on account of their knowledge. Whether they are great or whether they are humble [in station, makes no difference], I regard only their learning. No reproach can be levelled at me for this. Those who honour the man for his learning, and not the learning [for its own sake] commit an act of folly.”* He treated Sufis and pious men as brothers, and they never overstepped the bounds of propriety with him [though there was no ceremony between him and them]. Thoughts of sovereignty and royal dignity never entered his head. he was equally polite to all; and although he upheld the dignity of the royal state, he observed an attitude of affability beyond all conception.

I was twenty-four years in his service, and do not remember ever having heard him use abusive or obscene language to an inferior. If any of the slaves in his attendance committed an offence worthy of punishment or reproof, he would frown, but keep his temper and say very little. If he did speak and wished to use abusive language, he never went beyond calling any one “unclean” or “carrion,” and if he spoke in Turki he said much the same.