Tārīḫ-i Rashīdī - The History of the Moghuls, Tārīkh-i-Rashīdī

AFTER the Khwája Muhammad Yusuf incident, I tried constantly to induce the Khán to place himself under the guidance of Hazrat Makhdumi Nurá. The Khán would reply: “I desire this with all my soul. Without seeking [what you suggest], I wished to resign the government in order that I might follow that most perfect guide, Khwája Nurá; but the more I examined myself, the less capable did I feel of making an open request to his Holiness. I then resolved to change my mode of living and to mend my ways, so as to render myself more fitting for his service. If I should acquire proficiency and capacity in the right path, then would Khwája Nurá show me favour, without any request on my part; but if I should fail, my petition would be fruitless. I trust that, by God's grace, I may attain my end without addressing an open request to his Holiness. If such a happy consummation should be reached I shall feel reassured.” However much I insisted, the Khán always gave the same reply. A few months after my departure for Aksu, a letter arrived, directed in my name, containing certain [instructions] with regard to the affairs of Aksu; and on the margin there was some of the Khán's blessed handwriting. I have it intact before me at this moment.^395a

(HE is always spoken of in this book as Hazrat Makhdumi Nurá.) He received the name of Mahmud from his father, and that of Shaháb-ud-Din from his grandfather. Out of veneration they gave him the name of Khwája Khávand Mahmud …^395b

I have heard Hazrat Makhdumi Nurá relate that when his father died he was twenty-seven years of age. He had heard his father say: “In Shahr-i-Sabz of Samarkand there is a garden, and in the garden a mulberry tree; and Khwája Bahá-ul-Hakk wa ud-Din Nakhshband used to sit leaning against that tree. Hazrat Ishán, on account of this blessing, bought the garden. In front of the tree is a tank. One night, on the edge of the tank, Hazrat Ishán related to Khwája Ubaid-ul-Hádi and myself as follows: “During the lifetime of Hazrat Ishán^396a I suffered from a weakness of the stomach, which the doctors of Mávará-un-Nahr were unable to cure. I then went into Khorásán,^396b where the Shaikh ul Islám, Mauláná Abdur Rahman Jámi, brought me to his own house, and in his service I remained [for some little time]. I studied some of his tracts under him.” I learnt that he had received his education at the hands of Bandagi Maulavi [Jámi], and from the pamphlet which I have copied into this book,^396c it appears that Khwája Nurá read standard books under him. After the death of Jámi, he went into Irák, where he enjoyed the society of Mir Hasan Yazdi and Mir Sadr-ud-Din. He next went and studied, for a period of six years, under Mauláná Jalál-ud-Din Dáváni, and he also studied medicine under Mauláná Imád-ud-Din, who was the most eminent physician, not merely in Irák, but in the whole world…^396d

Having completed his medical studies in Shiráz, he passed into Rum, where also he devoted himself to study. Thence he journeyed into Egypt. Having performed the pilgrimage [to Mekka], he embarked at Jadda, and went to India by way of Gujrát. Thence he repaired to Kábul, where Bábar Pádisháh was at that time; and I, as already mentioned, was there also. These travels had occupied Khwája Nurá twenty-three years. When the Emperor took Samarkand, the Khwája went thither, and on the Emperor's returning to Kábul, the Khwája remained in Samarkand until the year 931, when he returned to Káshghar, as was mentioned. In those days he related: “In Samarkand I saw, in a vision, Mauláná Háji Kásim (one of Hazrat Ishán's servants) come with two horses, saying that Hazrat Ishán had ordered him to tell Khwája Nurá to take these two horses and go to Káshghar.” Before the Khwája reached Káshghar my uncle was attacked by paralysis, but on his arrival the Khwája, by means of his remedies, completely restored him to health. He stayed two years in Káshghar, where his associates were enriched by his blessings.

Mansur Khán sent some persons to him, saying that no Makh-dumzáda had ever come to those corners [of the earth], Turfán and Chálish, which were the residence of the disciples of his [spiritual] fathers; these people and this country had never been blessed by a visit from the Khwája. As it would be difficult for his friends in those quarters to go to him, all their blessings would be upon him if he would come and honour them. The Khwája accepted this invitation of Mansur Khán, and set out for Turfán, where he remained nearly three years, and brought blessings to those who associated with him.

On the Khán's return from the Badakhshán campaign, Khwája Nurá left Turfán and stayed in Káshghar to attend my uncle, who, as mentioned above, had become subject to fits of vomiting [istiská]. Having again restored my uncle to perfect health, he proceeded to Yárkand. Here Khwája Muhammad Yusuf, as has been related above, did not come out to greet him in the prescribed manner, from which circumstance a dispute arose, which terminated as already described. After this affair he went to Yángi-Hisár, in which place the Khán also spent the winter, in order to wait upon his Holiness …^397a The Khwája told me that after the death of Abdur Rahmán Jámi, he found under his pillow some rough copies, one of which he gave, written out, to me; an?? I have copied it here. He gave me these passages in Yángi-Hisár in the year 937 [1530-31]…^397b

At the end of the winter I went to Aksu, and there [found] the Khán and some of his adherents, high officials, nobles, and others. At their request the Khwája wrote several pamphlets. One of these is the following, which I have copied out in full.^397c

THAT spring, Hazrat Makhdumi Nurá set out for India by way of Badakhshán. The Khán escorted him as far as the pass of Shah-náz, ^398b [representing] seven or eight days' journey. I, being in Aksu at the time, was denied participation in this happiness. On my return from Aksu the Khán said to me: “On bidding farewell to Khwája Nurá, I begged him to recite the Fátiha, and just as he was about to commence I asked him, as a favour, to first of all repeat it for Mirzá Haidar and afterwards for me. He granted my request, and having first recited it for you, he then did so for me.” [Two couplets]… Those who were present relate that the Khán, during the few stages he made with the Khwája, was overcome with grief, and whenever the Khwája spoke, he was so overpowered with emotion, that he could not restrain his tears,—a circumstance that greatly impressed those who were present. [Verses]… As this was the last time the Khán would see the Khwája, he naturally felt severely the pangs of separation.

In short, Khwája Nurá arrived in Hindustán. The frontier towns of Hindustán, namely, Kábul and Láhur, were then held by Kámrán Mirzá, who humbly begged the Khwája to stay in Láhur, but the Khwája replied: “From the first, it had been my intention to wait upon the Emperor [Bábar]; therefore I must now go and condole with Humáyun. Having performed this duty, should I return, I will accept your invitation.” He then went to Agra, the capital of India, where he was received with great honour by the Emperor [Humáyun].

At that period there had arisen in Hindustán a man named Shaikh Pul. Humáyun was anxious to become his disciple, for he had a great passion for the occult sciences—for magic and conjuration. Shaikh Pul having assumed the garb of a Shaikh, came to the Emperor and taught him that incantations and sorcery were the surest means to the true attainment of an object. Since doctrines such as these suited his disposition, he became at once the Shaikh's disciple. Besides this person, there was Mauláná Muhammad Parghari who, though a Mulla, was a very [irreligious] and unprincipled man, and who always worked hard to gain his ends, even when they were of an evil nature. The Shaikh asked the aid of Mulla Muhammad and, in common, by means of flattery, they wrought upon the Emperor for their own purposes, and gained his favour.

Not long after this I went to visit the Emperor, as shall be presently related, but I could never gather that he had learned anything from his Pir, Shaikh Pul, except magic and incantations.^399a But God knows best. The influence of Shaikh Pul being thus confirmed, Mauláná Muhammad, or rather the Emperor and all his following, neglected and slighted Khwája Nurá, who had an hereditary claim to their veneration. This naturally caused the Khwája great inward vexation. It was mentioned above that when passing through Láhur, he had been invited by Kámrán Mirzá to take up his abode in that place, and he had promised to do so on his return. In pursuance of his promise, he now set out from Agra to Láhur. Humáyun and his companions begged him [to stay], but he would not listen to their entreaties. He reached Láhur in the year 943 [1536-7]. I had arrived in Láhur just before, and I now had the honour of kissing his feet.

In those days I used frequently to hear him say: “I have seen in a vision, a great sea which overwhelmed all who remained behind us in Agra and Hindustán; while we only escaped after a hundred risks:” and thus did it come about three years later— just as he had said—as shall be presently related.”^399b After the devastation of Hindustán he escaped, in safety, to Mávará-un-Nahr, by way of Káshghar.

I WAS present in the assembly when Mauláná Muhammad Par-ghari arrived from Agra, with a letter from Humáyun Pádisháh; he also was present when the Khwája gave the answer beforementioned. Mauláná Muhammad began to weep and begged that his sins might be forgiven him; he beseeched [the Khwája] with great earnestness to write a letter to Humáyun. The Khwája wrote: “Oh! Humá, do not throw thy noble shadow, in a land where the parrot is less common than the kite [zaghan].” Now, in this miracle there is a curious pun, for Humá Pádisháh did not throw his shadow in the country where the parrot is rarer than the kite. [Mauláná Muhammad] returned stupefied…^400a

While I was in Láhur, Tahmásp Sháh, son of Sháh Ismáil, came from Irák, took Kandahár from the deputies of Kámrán Mirzá, and having given it over to some of his trusted officers, he returned. This caused Kámrán Mirzá intense grief, and he asked me to tell the Khwája of his misfortune. The next day, when I went to wait on the Khwája, he said to me: “I have seen his Holiness in a vision, and he asked me, ‘Why are you sad?’ I replied: ‘On account of Kámrán Mirzá, for the Turkománs have taken Kandahár. What will come of it?’ Then his Holiness advanced towards me and taking me by the hand said: ‘Do not grieve; he will soon recover it.’” And thus, indeed, it came to pass, for Kámrán Mirzá marched against Kandahár, and the troops of Tahmásp Sháh gave up the city to him in peace. This is an especially strange thing to have occurred, since the Turkomán rulers are very severe with their subordinates. Be this as it may, the matter was terminated quite simply.

Khánzáda Begum, the Emperor's sister, who has been frequently mentioned in this book, fell ill in Kábul. She wrote a letter to the Khwája, and sent it by me, to ask him for a cure for her malady. Now as that letter was badly composed, I rewrote it correctly, and then took it to the Khwája. He, on my arrival, said to me: “I wish to make you partner in a secret,” whereupon I stood up humbly. He continued: “Give me the letter that the Begum herself wrote.” Now, as a fact, I had written my letter in secret, and no one knew anything about my having done so.

I witnessed many other wonders performed by him.

THOUGH I am not suited to the task, the context demands that I should give Khwája Nurá's line of descent in discipleship…^401a

He was the disciple of his grandfather Khwája Násir-ud-Din Ubaidullah, the disciple of Mauláná Yákub Charkhi, the disciple of Khwája Bahá-ud-Din Nakshband, the disciple of Mir Kalál, the disciple of Khwája Muhammad Bábá-i-Samási, the disciple of Khwája Ali Rámatini, the disciple of Khwája Mahmud Anjir Faghravi, the disciple of Khwája Arif Rivgarvi, the disciple of Khwája Abdul Khálik Ghajdaváni. It were fitting that, in this place, I should speak of each of these holy men individually, but on consideration I do not think myself equal to the task. [Couplet]…

I am fully aware that what I have already written is beyond my powers, but the requirements of the context have been the cause of my boldness, and I ask forgiveness for anything that be not pleasing to God or His Prophet, or the friends of God. [Verses]…

After Khwája Nurá went to Hindustán, the Khán gave Amin Khwája Sultán (who had been brought from Aksu to Badakhshán) leave to go to India also. Although this step was necessitated by the affairs of the State, yet it did not cut the Khán off from his kin. However, Amin Khwája Sultán went to India, where he died a natural death. His eldest son, Masud Sultán, followed him into India. Khizir Khwája Sultán, Mahdi Sultán, and Isán Daulat Sultán, after this dispersion towards India, settled themselves in different places, but there is no object in entering into further details. Whatever God wills that should be said of them, will appear.

WE have brought the Emperor's history down to the date contained in the words “Fath-ba-daulat” [930 = 1524]. So much treasure fell into his hands, that all the people of the world benefited by it. In short, I went to India and was employed in the direction of the affairs of that country, as will be mentioned. The Emperor took possession of all the dominions of Sultán Iskandar Aoghán. Raná Singá, one of the Rájas of Hindustán, came against Bábar Pádisháh with an army of several hundreds of thousands. The Emperor engaged him in battle, and defeated him;^402a and in his mandates took the title of Gházi. After this, he marched towards Chitur, where he won decisive victories over the infidels. Returning, he devoted himself to the settlement of the whole of Hindustán. In the course of the year 937 he fell a victim to a severe illness, which the efforts of the doctors were powerless to cure. [Two couplets] … As his end approached, he entrusted all the Amirs and people of the world to Humáyun Mirzá (whom he had recalled from Badakh-shán) and his own soul to the Creator of the world. As soon as Humáyun had mounted his father's throne, such persons as Muhammad Zamán Mirzá (son of Badi-uz-Zamán Mirzá, son of Mirzá Sultán Husain), who had been in Bábar Pádisháh's service, and was his son-in-law, together with others, began to raise the flag of revolt and sound the drums of sedition. But Humáyun quieted them all by his kindness. He conquered what little of Hind had been left unsubdued by his father, and went into Guzrát and captured it; but on account of discord among his brothers and the Amirs, he had to abandon it. The rest of his story will be told later.

WHEN Khwája Nurá passed into Hindustán, and I withdrew from Aksu, Rashid Sultán also returned, as has been already mentioned. During the same winter Rashid Sultán went back, with his family, to Aksu. In the spring of that year, the Khán resolved to conduct a holy war against Tibet. Previous to this, [his] Amirs had frequently invaded and plundered that country, but on account of their ignorance and folly, Islám had made no progress, and there were still numberless infidels in Tibet, besides those whom the Amirs had subdued.^403a

The Khán had always been animated by a desire to carry on holy wars in the path of God, and especially so now that he had just assumed the saintly ways of the Khwájas. He was always ready to devote himself to the cause of the faith, and felt that the holy war was one of the surest roads to salvation and union with God. Prompted by such pious feelings as these, at the end of the year 938^403b he set out to invade Tibet.

Having reached this point in my narrative, it is necessary for me to give some account of the land of Tibet, for this country is so situated that only a few travellers have been able to visit it. On account of the difficulties of the route, which from every point of view is most dangerous—whether by reason of its hills and passes, or the coldness of the air, or the scarcity of water and fuel, or the shameless and lawless highwaymen, who know every inch of the roads and allow no travellers to pass—no one has ever brought back any information concerning this country. In such standard works as the Muajjam ul Buldán, the Jám-i-Giti Numái, and the Supplement to the Surâh, Tibet is not described as other countries are; they merely mention that there is such a region, and some few facts regarding it are given. I am therefore emboldened to furnish some details about the kingdom of Tibet which are to be found in no book.

TIBET is a long [and narrow] country.^404a From Rikan Báin, which means “between the north and the west,” towards Bakani,^404b which is “between the south and the east,” is eight months' journey. Its breadth is [nowhere] more than one month's journey, nor less than ten days. Its frontier on the side of Rikan Báin, adjoins Baluristán (as was stated above, in the description of Balur); that on the Bakani side, touches Huchu Sálár, which is a dependency of [what is called] Kanjánfu^404c of Khitái. In the description of the mountains of Moghulistán and Káshghar, it was stated that the principal range in Moghulistán, from which all the other hills branch out, passes the north of Káshghar, runs towards the west, and continues to the south of Káshghar. It was also mentioned that the province of Farghána lies to the west of Káshghar, this range running between. [This part of the range] which lies between Káshghar and Farghána is called Alái.

Badakhshán is on the west of Yárkand. These countries are also divided by [a part of] this same range, which here takes the name of Pámir. The width of the Pámir, in some places, is eight days' journey. Passing onwards, one comes to some of the Yárkand mountains which adjoin Balur, such as Ráskám^405a and Tágh Dum Básh; proceeding yet further, one arrives in the land of Tibet. Badakhshán is in the direction of summer sunset (tabistáni) from Yárkand, as stated above, and Káshmir is in the direction of winter sunset (zamistáni) from Yárkand.^405b That same range runs between Yárkand and Káshmir, and is here called Bálti; this [district] belongs to the province of Tibet. There is, in these parts, a mountain^405c wider than the Alái or the Pámir. The width in Bálti is twenty days' journey.

The pass ascending from Yárkand is the pass of Sánju, and the pass descending on the side of Káshmir is the pass of Askárdu.^405d [From the Sánju pass to the Askárdu pass] is twenty days' journey. In the direction of winter sunset from Khotan, are some of the cities of Hind, such as Láhur, Sultánpur, and Bájwára,^405e and the afore-mentioned mountain range lies between. Between Khotan and the towns of Hind above-named, are situated Arduk, Guga, and Aspati,^406a which belong to Tibet; and it must be supposed that those mountains extend into Khitái. On the west and south of the range lies Hindustán; while Bhira,^406b Lahur and Bangála are all on the skirts of it. All the rivers of Hind flow down from these hills, and their sources are in the country of Tibet.

On the north and east of Tibet lie Yárkand, Khotan, Chárchán, Lob, Katak and Sárigh Uighur. The rest is a sandy waste [rigistan], whose frontier adjoins Kanju and Sakju^406c of Khitái. All the streams which flow down from the mountains of Tibet, in a westerly and southerly direction, become rivers of Hind, such as the Niláb, the river of Bhira, the Chináb, the river of Lahur, the river of Sultánpur and the river of Bájwára, which are all rivers of Sind. The Jun and the Gang and others flow through Bangála into the ocean;^406d all the streams which flow in an easterly and northerly direction from the mountains of Tibet, such as the river of Yárkand, the Ak Kásh and the Kára Kásh, the Kirya, the Chárchán, and the rest, all empty themselves into the Kuk Naur,^406e which is a lake in the aforesaid sand waste. I have heard some Moghuls say that one may travel round [the lake] in three months. From one end of it, issues a large river, which is called the Kará Murán of Khitái.

From these details it will be clear that Tibet is a very high-lying country, since its waters run in all directions. Any one wishing to enter Tibet, must first ascend lofty passes, which do not slope downward on the other side, for on the top the land is level; in a few cases only, the passes have slight declivities [on the far side]. On account [of the height] Tibet is excessively cold—so much so, that in most places nothing but turnips can be cultivated. The barley is generally of a kind that ripens in two months. In some parts of Tibet, the summer only lasts forty days, and even then the rivers are often frozen over after midnight. In all Tibet, in consequence of the severity of the cold, trees never reach any height; nor does the corn, for, being low on the ground, it is trodden down by the cattle.

Now the inhabitants of Tibet are divided into two sections. One is called the Yulpá—that is to say, ‘dwellers in villages,’ and the other the Champa, meaning ‘dwellers in the desert.’^407a But these last are always subject to one of the provinces of Tibet. The inhabitants of the desert [nomads] of Tibet have certain strange practices, which are to be met with among no other people. Firstly, they eat their meat and all other foods in an absolutely raw state, having no knowledge of cooking. Again, they feed their horses on flesh instead of grain.^407b They also use sheep exclusively, as beasts of burden. Their sheep carry, perhaps, twelve statute man. They harness them with pack-saddles, halters, and girths; they place the load upon the sheep, and except when necessary, never take it off, so that summer and winter it remains on the animal's back.^407c

The Champa, or nomads, live in the following manner. In the winter they descend towards the western and southern slopes of the aforesaid mountains—that is to say, to Hindustán—taking with them wares of Khitái, salt, cloth of goats' hair [tana-kâr], zedoary,^408a kutás [yaks], gold, and shawls,^408b which are Tibetan goods. They trade in Hindustán and in the mountains of Hindustán, and in the spring they return from that country, bringing many of its products, such as cloths, sweets, rice, and grain, loaded upon their sheep. After feeding their flocks, they advance slowly but continuously into Khitái, which they reach in the winter. Having laid in a stock, during spring, of such Tibetan products as are in demand in Khitái, they dispose of the Indian and Tibetan goods there in the winter, and return to Tibet in the [following] spring, carrying with them Khitái wares. The next winter they again go on to India. The burdens which they load on the sheep in Hindustán are removed in Khitái, and those put on in Khitái are taken off in Hindustán. Thus they spend their winters alternately in Hindustán and Khitái.^408c This is the mode of life of all the Champa. A Champa will sometimes carry as many as 10,000 sheep-loads, and every sheep-load may be reckoned at twelve man. What an enormous quantity is this! That amount is loaded in one year, either in Hindustán or in Khitái. On every occasion, wherever they go, they take all these loads with them, and are never caused fatigue or trouble by them. I have never heard of a similar practice among any other people. In fact, some do not even credit this story.

These Champa are a numerous race, inasmuch as one of their tribes, called Dulpa,^409a numbers more than 50,000 families. And there are many more tribes like this one. From some of the chiefs I have asked their numbers, but they have been unable to inform me. God knows best; and the responsibility be upon [those who have failed to inform me].

The dwellers in villages are called Yulpá; they inhabit many districts—such as Bálti, which is a province of Tibet; Bálti, in turn, comprises several [smaller] districts, such as Purik, Khápula, Ashigár, Askárdu, [Runk], and Ladaks, and each of these contains fortresses and villages. Wherever I went in Tibet, I either took the country by force or made peace, on the inhabitants paying tribute. Among these [places may be mentioned] Bálti, Zánskár, Máryul,^410a Rudok, Guga, Lu, Burás, Zunka, Minkáb [or Hinkáb], Zir-Sud-Kankar, Nisan, Ham, Alalai-Lutak, Tuk, Labug [or Lanuk], Astákbark [or Askábrak],^410b which is the limit of my journey. From Askábrak to Bangála is twenty-four days' journey, and Ursáng is on the east, and Bangála on the south, of Askábrak. Ursáng is the Kibla and K'aba of all Khitái and Tibet, and has a vast idol-temple. As what I heard concerning this temple is incredible I have not written it. There are many false stories told of it. In short, it is the seat of learning and the city of the pious of Tibet and Khitái.

THE nature of those portions of Tibet that I have visited, and of its inhabitants, is such that in spite of my strong wish to describe it I find it impossible. I will, however, on account of their strangeness, mention a few of the particulars which I have either seen myself or heard spoken of.

One of these is the gold-mines. In most of the Champa districts gold-mines are found. Among them are two strange mines; one is called by the Moghuls the Altunji [or Goldsmith] of Tibet, and it is worked by a branch of the above-mentioned tribe of Dulpa. On account of the extreme coldness of the atmosphere, they are not able to work more than forty days in the year. In the level ground are pits [or caves] large enough for a man to enter. There are numbers of these holes, and most of them terminate by running into one another. It is said that three hundred heads of families live permanently in those caves. They watch the Moghuls from afar, and when these come near, they all creep into their caves, where no one can find them. In the caves no oil burns except the oil made from sheep's milk [sar-jush] that has no fat in it.^411a Out of these caves they bring soil, which they wash, and (the responsibility be upon those who tell this story) it is said that in one sieve of soil from those mines, ten mithkáls of gold are sometimes found. One man digs the earth, carries it out and washes it by himself. Some days he sorts twenty sieves full. Although this may appear incredible, I have heard it confirmed all over Tibet, and for this reason I have written it down.

Again, Guga has two hundred forts and villages. It is three days' journey in length, and in it gold is everywhere to be found. Wherever they dig up the earth and spread it on a cloth, they find gold. The smallest pieces are about the size of a lentil [adas] or a pea [másh], and they say that sometimes [lumps] are found as large as a sheep's liver. At the time when I was settling the tribute upon Guga, the head men related to me that a man was lately digging a piece of ground, when his spade stuck fast in something, so that he could not, with all his efforts, draw it out. Having removed the earth, he saw that it was a stone, in the middle of which was gold; in this his spade had become fixed. Leaving the spade where it was, he went and informed the governor. A body of men went to the spot and extracted it, and having broken the stone, found in it 1,500 Tibetan mithkáls of pure [mohri] gold (a Tibetan mithkál is worth one-and-a-half ordinary mithkáls), and God has so created this soil that when the gold is taken from the ground it does not diminish [in bulk] however much they beat it out, bake it and stamp it; it is only fire that has any effect on it. This is all very wonderful, and is looked upon by assayers as very strange and curious. Nor is this peculiarity to be met with anywhere else in the world.^412a In the greater part of Tibet the merchandise of Khatai and India is to be found in about equal quantities.

Another peculiarity of Tibet is the dam-giri, which the Moghuls call Yas,^412b and which is common to the whole country, though less prevalent in the vicinity of forts and villages. The symptoms are a feeling of severe sickness [nákhushi], and in every case one's breath so seizes him that he becomes exhausted, just as if he had run up a steep hill with a heavy burden on his back. On account of the oppression [it causes] it is difficult to sleep. Should, however, sleep overtake one, the eyes are hardly closed before one is awoke with a start caused by oppression on the lungs and chest. And this is always the case with everybody. When overcome by this malady the patient becomes senseless, begins to talk nonsense, and sometimes the power of speech is lost, while the palms of the hands and soles of the feet become swollen. Often when this last symptom occurs, the patient dies between dawn and breakfast time; at other times he lingers on for several days. If, in the interval, his fate has not been sealed, and he reach a village or a fort, it is probable that he may survive, otherwise he is sure to die. This malady only attacks strangers; the people of Tibet know nothing of it, nor do their doctors know why it attacks strangers. Nobody has ever been able to cure it. The colder the air, the more severe is the form of the malady. [Couplet] … It is not peculiar to men, but attacks every animal that breathes, such as the horse, as will be presently instanced. One day, owing to the necessity of a foray, we had ridden faster than usual. On waking [next morning] I saw that there were very few horses in our camp, and [on inquiring] ascertained that more than 2000 had died in the night. Of my own stable there were twenty-four special [riding] horses, all of which were missing. Twenty-one of them had died during that night. Horses are very subject [saráyat] to dam-giri. I have never heard of this disease outside Tibet. No remedy is known for it.^413a

THEIR men of learning [Ulama] are, as a body, called Lámas. But they have different names, in proportion to the extent of their learning. Just as we say “Imám and Mujtahid,” they say “Tunkana and Kahjavár.”^414a I had much conversation with them with the help of an interpreter. But when it came to nice distinctions, the interpreter was at a loss both to understand and to explain, so that the conversation was incomplete. Of their tenets and rites, however, I was able to discover the following particulars. They say that the Most High God is from all eternity. At the beginning of creation, when He called the souls into being, He taught each one separately how to attain to the regions of the blessed (which was the path that leads to Paradise), and how to escape from hell. [This He taught them] without palate, or tongue, or any other [corporeal] medium. These souls He sent down at various times, as seemed fitting to Him, and mixed them with earth. And this is the origin of the power of vegetation of plants in the earth. When the soul has descended from the highest to the lowest degree, it is no longer pure, but unconsciousness and oblivion dominate it. In the process of time, it migrates to some vile body; and this migration, although it be into a base degree, is yet an advance upon the state of being mixed with earth. In every body [the soul] makes progress according to its conduct. If its conduct is perfect in that body, it enters into a better body; if, on the other hand, it errs, it enters a yet viler body; and if in this [last] body it still does evil, it again becomes mixed with the earth, and again remains inanimate [muattal] for some time.

In this manner [the soul] migrates from one body to another, and progresses until it attains the human body. In the human body it first of all reaches the lowest degree, such as that of a peasant or a slave. It gradually rises in the scale of humanity, until it enters the body of a láma, in which state, if [the entity] conducts itself in a becoming manner, it attains a knowledge and insight into former states, and knows what it has done in each separate body, what has been the cause of its progress, and what the reason of its degradation. This knowledge and consciousness is the degree of saintliness. And in like manner, by means of much contemplation, people attain to the stage in which they recall what was taught them at the beginning of eternity; they remember everything that the Most High God communicated to them, without palate, tongue, or any other [physical] medium. This is the degree of prophecy. In it men learn what they have heard from God Almighty, and [on these revelations] are their religion and faith based. The soul which has attained to the degree of prophecy is no longer subject to death, but has eternal life. The being continues until his physical strength is quite broken, when his body perishes, and nothing remains but his spirituality. All who have spiritual force of this kind may see [the soul]; but otherwise it cannot be seen with the eye of the head, which is bodily vision.

Such are the tenets of the religion of Shaká Muni. All Khitái is of this faith, and they call it the religion of “Shakiá Muni”; while in Tibet it is called “Shaká Tu Bá,”^415a and “Shaká Muni.” In histories it is written “Shaká Muni.” In some histories, Shaká Muni is reckoned among the prophets of India, and some hold that he was a teacher [hakim]. Also, it is maintained that no one goes to Heaven by the mere acceptance of the faith and religion, but only in consequence of his works. If a Musulmán performs good acts, he goes to Heaven; if he do evil, he goes to Hell. This also applies to [these] infidels. They hold the Prophet in high esteem, but they do not consider it the incumbent duty of the whole of mankind to be of his religion. They say: “Your religion is true, and so is ours. In every religion one must conduct oneself well. Shaká Muni has said: After me there will arise 124,000 prophets, the last of whom will be called Jána Kasapa,^415b an orphan, without father or mother. All the world will comprehend his religion. When he is sent, it will be necessary for the whole world to submit to him, and blessed will he be who hastens to adopt his faith. I bequeath my own religion in order that it may be handed down from generation to generation until the blessed time of his appearance. The semblance of this prophet will be in this wise”—and therewith he gave an image which the people were to remember, for in this form the prophet would appear. People should believe in him before all other men.

At the present time, the chief idol (which they place in the entrance of all the Idol Temples) besides all their fables,^416a have reference to him. This idol is the figure of Jána Kasapa. And they attribute most of those qualities to Jána Kasapa, which apply to our Prophet. I observed to them: “What Shaká Muni said refers to our Prophet.” They replied: “Shaká Muni said he would come after 124,000 prophets, and after him would come no other prophet. Now of those 124,000, but few have appeared as yet.” I insisted earnestly that they had all appeared, but they would not admit it, and so remained in their error.

At Zunka, which is the most famous [place] in Tibet, and one which produces zedoary [máh farfin], I saw another [interesting object], viz., an inscription of the Pádisháh of Khitái. It was written in the Khitái character, but in one corner it was in Tibetan writing, while in another corner was a clear Persian translation in the Naskhi hand. It ran as follows: “His Highness the king sends greeting to all his people, saying: It is more than 3,000 years ago now, that Shaká Muni introduced idol-worship and spoke words which are not intelligible to all…” This much I have retained; the rest related to some orders for the repairing of the temple. I have quoted this to show that Shaká Muni lived 3,000 years previous to the date of the inscription,^416b which, however, not being [dated] in the Hajra, I could not understand. But judging from the extent to which the inscription was worn, not more than a hundred years could have elapsed since it was written. But God knows best. I was in Zunka in the month of Rabi ul Awal, 940 [October 1533].

Another [curiosity] is the wild kutás. This is a very wild and ferocious beast. In whatever manner it attacks one it proves fatal: whether it strike with its horns, or kick, or overthrow its victim. If it has no opportunity of doing any of these things, it tosses its enemy with its tongue, twenty gaz into the air, and he is dead before reaching the ground. One male kutás is a load for twelve horses. One man cannot possibly raise a shoulder of the animal. In the days of my forays [kazáki] I killed a kutás, and divided it among seventy persons, when each had sufficient flesh for four days.^417a This animal is not to be met with outside the country of Tibet. The remaining particulars concerning Tibet will be given in the account of the campaign.

THE Holy War is the main support and fortifier of Islám—the most efficient ground-work for the foundations of the Faith …^417b After the Khán's repentance, he had always awaited an opportunity for personally conducting a holy war [ghazát], nor could his hunger and thirst for this exploit be in any way satisfied by merely sending out a ghazát expedition, every year; so at length, in Zulhijja of the year 938 [July 1532] he set out to attack the infidels of Tibet.

As I mentioned above, Tibet is bounded on the north, where it is called Bálti, by Balur and Badakhshán; in the direction of winter sunrise^417c of that place is Yárkand, and on the west is Kashmir. Having bidden Iskandar Sultán accompany me, and having deputed me to that country, the Khán himself started (by way of Khotan) for the Altunji^417d of Tibet, which is another name for the Dulpa.

I SET out in Zulhijja of the aforesaid year, and in the beginning of Safar, reached Nubra, a dependent province of Tibet. I then sent a person all over that country to greet the people with a general invitation. [He was to say]: “This is a general invitation to the faith of Ahmad. Happy the man who comes to the Faith and obtains his portion.” The greater number submitted; but not the chiefs of Nubra, who were refractory and rebellious, and retired to their castles and forts. A certain man named Bur Kápá, who was at the head of the chiefs of the infidels, strengthened himself within the castle of Mutadár,^418a which is the chief fort of that country. I laid siege to this fort, and was for some days employed in making ready the siege implements, such as catapults, shields [turá], etc. On the appointed day I approached the fort, and the talons of Islám, seizing the hands of infidelity, the enemy were thrown into disorder and routed. Having deserted the fort, they fled in confusion and dismay, while the Musulmáns gave them chase, as far as was possible, so that not one of these bewildered people escaped. Bur Kápá was slain together with all his men; their heads formed a lofty minaret—and the vapour from the brains of the infidels of that country ascended to the heavens.

Thenceforth no one dared offer resistance. Having thus reduced the whole province of Nubra, a garrison was placed in the fort and order established.

Thence we passed into Máryul, and there encamped. In Máryul there are two rulers. One called Lata Jughdán, and the other Táshikun.^418b They both hastened to wait [on me]. At that period Libra began to change. In the whole of Tibet during Libra, the cold is so intense that, compared with it, the winter of other countries is as the hottest days of summer. I then held a consultation with the Amirs, who were with me, as to which district of Tibet would be best suited to establish our winter quarters in, and where we might find grain and provender for the cattle during the winter. As no such place was to be found in those parts, Kashmir was decided upon for the winter quarters. If we could conquer it, well and good; if not, we could winter there and leave in the spring.

This matter having been settled, we left Máryul and the neighbouring districts, and taking the army of Tibet along with us, advanced towards Kashmir. At this juncture Abdál Kuli Yasávul, one of the Khán's trusty chamberlains, arrived with news that the Khán was making for this quarter [Máryul], that on the road he had been afflicted with dam-giri (which is the peculiarity of that infidel country), and [adding] that he wished to see me as soon as possible. That same hour I set out to [meet] him, leaving the army where it was.

IT was mentioned above that the Khán had decided to advance against the Dulpa, by way of Khotan, and had sent me forward to Bálti. At that time the Emperor of the firmament was in the sign of Leo; the Khán, having marched for one month, took up his summer quarters among the hill pastures of Khotan, until the end of the season of Virgo. Those who had had experience of that region then represented to the Khán: “It is now too late [in the season] to achieve anything: for very soon all the waters and rivers will be frozen over, so that no water will be obtainable: nor is there sufficient firewood to be found to melt the ice, for watering the cattle and horses. It will also be hardly possible to kill enough kutás to make a sufficient supply of soup. It is for these reasons that, on previous occasions, several armies have been dismounted [lost their horses] on this road.” The Khán being convinced [of the impracticability of continuing by that route] said: “Were I to give up the holy war in Tibet, I should be disappointed of great recompense hereafter. If this route is too difficult, it will be best for me to follow in the steps of Mirzá Haidar, and complete the holy war in that quarter.” So saying, he turned back from Khotan and advanced along the road which I had taken.^420a

On the way he was so severely attacked by dam-giri, that for some days he was quite insensible, and his life was reduced to a breath. The doctors applied suppositories [shiyáf] and used aperients, and whenever these took effect he became conscious for the moment, but soon again fainted away. To the nobles and courtiers he said: “Although my health is not strong enough to admit of my conducting a holy war, I shall not be wanting in intention. When I am deprived, as I certainly shall be, of the companionship of the living, it will only be to join the band of the departed. Perhaps I may die on the road. As long as there is a breath of life in me I will not abandon the war. When all life has gone out of me, you can do as you please.” During this time he frequently asked after me, and used to say, with emotion and regret: “At the present moment I have no other desire than this [seeing the author], and I pray God that my life may be preserved until I meet him once more.” He also repeated verses suited to his frame of mind: among them the following couplet. [Verses]. … He constantly uttered such sentiments during his intervals of consciousness.

It is strange that in spite of the severity of this malady, one never desires to stay in one place [for any length of time]. Indeed, so excessive is the cold, and so great the scarcity of water and corn, that supposing one to make a halt, it would only aggravate the disease. The cure is to do one's best to reach some place where dam-giri is less prevalent. Whenever the Khán reached such a place he recovered consciousness.

On the day that the Khán returned to his senses, I joined his camp. Having embraced me affectionately, he said: “Of all my friends or children, it is you who have been in my thoughts [the most], and I thank God for having been allowed to see you again.” [Verses]… From that hour he began to regain his usual health and strength, and by the time we reached Nubra he was entirely restored, so that he was able to enter that district on horseback. After this, all the Amirs assembled together in council and each gave his opinion on the best course to pursue. I suggested: “After careful investigation, I can discover no spot in these districts of Tibet, which can provide winter quarters for more than one thousand men. But with a thousand men, there will be no possibility of insubordination or revolt. There seems to be no place capable of supporting a large army in winter, except Kashmir. But on the road to Kashmir there are many passes, which the Khán's strength will not allow him to cross. If the Khán would issue the needful order, he might retain 1000 men in his own service and proceed to Bálti with them; for in Bálti there is no dam-giri, and no passes need be traversed [to reach it]. He might place me in command of the rest of the troops, when, having spent the winter in Kashmir, we could, on the return of spring, do whatever seemed wisest.”

Of all the propositions this one pleased the Khán most, and thus it was decided. At the outset of his expedition [the Khán] knew that Tibet was no place for a large army. Five thousand men had been fixed [as the number]; 3,000 belonged to the Khán's army and 2,000 to mine. Of those 3,000 men, the Khán [now] retained 1,000 for his personal service and advanced towards Bálti, while I turned in the direction of Kashmir attended by 4,000 men, and also by several distinguished Amirs, such as Amir Dáim Ali, who was mentioned in the lists at Káshghar, Bábá Sárik Mirzá, and others.

AT the end of Libra the Khán arrived in Bálti. Bahrám Chu, one of the head men of Bálti, submitted and waited on the Khán. All the other Chu^422a began to practise sedition and revolt, the natural outcome of infidelity. In the first place, under the guidance of Bahrám Chu, the Khán took the fort of Shigár^422b (which is the capital of all Bálti) at the first assault. All the men of the place were mown down by the blood-stained swords of the assailants, while the women and children, together with much property, fell a prey to the victorious army. Furthermore, wherever in that hill-country a hand was stretched out, it never missed its object; [and even the strongly fortified ravines and castles were trampled under foot by the horses of the Khán's army.]^422c

On account of the snow, no news from Kashmir could reach the Khán during that winter, and the infidel insurgents, to serve their own vile purposes, spread many false reports, thereby causing the Khán, and all the army, to become distressed and anxious. At length, towards the end of winter, an express messenger who had been sent from Kashmir arrived, bearing news of our successes, whereupon the apprehension and distress of the Khán [and his troops] were changed to joy and gladness; and they recited the verse: “Thanks be to God who has put sorrow away from us.”

At the beginning of spring they withdrew from Bálti. [At this juncture] the Khán entrusted to Amir Kambar Kukildásh, who was mentioned in the lists [muster roll] at Káshghar, the province of Nubra, which I had set in order and handed over to the Khán. But in consequence of the Amir's bad judgment and want of capacity, the country went to ruin and the inhabitants rose in revolt, each man betaking himself to some strong place. Utterly disregarding those weak men who had been placed over them, the people gave themselves up to robbery and every kind of crime. On this account [the Khán's officials] not deeming it safe to remain any longer in Nubra, came to Máryul.^423a Táshikun, for his neglect of duty, was deprived of his fortress and put to death.^423b It was here [in Máryul] that I found [the Khán's officers] encamped when I arrived from Kashmir, as shall be presently related.

I LEFT Nubra with the Amirs and the new army, which the Khán had sent with me, and joined my own forces in the district of Máryul; after which I set off, by forced marches, in the direction of Kashmir. On the road, all the chief men of Tibet submitted and, joining us, greatly increased the numbers of our army. Some of the Bálti Tibetans, who live in the valleys of Kashmir, acting as our guides, we reached that country at the beginning of the sign of Scorpio—Jamád II. 939—after crossing the pass of Kashmir, which is called Zuji. The chiefs of Kashmir had already heard of the approach of our army, and were occupying the narrow defile of Lár.^423c Having crossed the pass [of Zuji] I sent forward 400 men, chosen out of the whole army for their experience, under the command of Tumán Bahádar Kaluchi, who was one of those mentioned in the lists at Káshghar. When they reached the narrow defile, they found it occupied by the Kashmir army, a few of whom were stationed as outposts at its [upper] end. At dawn our soldiers made a charge on these pickets, who fled down the defile, followed by our men. When the main body perceived this, seeing no way of holding the road, they too turned and fled. Arriving [at this moment] I gave them chase; thus easily did our whole force pass such a difficult place. On the second day after [this affair] we alighted in Kashmir. Having reached this point, it seems fitting, in order to render the subject clear and intelligible, to give some account of the country of Kashmir and its rulers.

KASHMIR is among the most famous countries of the world, and is celebrated both for its attractions and its wonders. In spite of its renown, no one knows anything about its present state, nor can any of its features or its history be learned from the books of former writers. At this present date of Moharram 950, [1543-4] now that I have subdued this beautiful country and seen all that is notable in it, whatever I shall write will be what I have witnessed.

The second time that I entered Kashmir, and when I had not reduced the whole of the country, I drew an omen [fál] from the Korán, with reference to its conquest and to my becoming established there. The verse that turned up was: “Eat of the daily bread from your Lord, and return your thanks to him in the shape of a fair city. The Lord is forgiving.”

The plain [julgá] of Kashmir extends from the Bakani quarter, which means “between the south and the east,” towards the Rikan Bain [or north-west]; it is a level expanse about a hundred kruh (equivalent to thirty farsákhs) in length. Its width is, at some parts, about twenty kruh, and in a few places ten kruh.^424a In this region all the land is divided into four kinds. The cultivation is: (1) by irrigation [ábi], (2) on land not needing artificial irrigation, (3) gardens, and (4) level ground, where the river banks abound in violets and many-coloured flowers. On the [level] ground, on account of the excessive moisture, the crops do not thrive, and for this reason the soil is not laboured, which constitutes one of its charms.^425a The heat in summer is so agreeable, that there is at no time any need of a fan. A soft and refreshing breeze is constantly blowing…^425b

The climate in winter is also very temperate, notwithstanding the heavy snowfalls, so that no fur cloak [pustin] is necessary. In fact its coldness only serves to render the heat yet more agreeable. When the sun does not shine, the warmth of a fire is far from unpleasant. [Couplet]…^425c In short I have neither seen nor heard of any country equal to Kashmir, for charm of climate during all the four seasons.

In the town there are many lofty buildings constructed of fresh cut pine. Most of these are at least five stories high and each story contains apartments, halls, galleries and towers. The beauty of their exterior defies description, and all who behold them for the first time, bite the finger of astonishment with the teeth of admiration. But the interiors are not equal to the exteriors.

The passages in the markets, and the streets of the city, are all paved with hewn stone. But the bazaars are not laid out as they are in other towns. In the streets of the markets, only drapers and retail dealers are to be found. Tradesmen do all their business in the seclusion of their own houses. Grocers, druggists, beer-sellers [fukái], and that class of provision vendors who usually frequent markets, do not do so here. The population of this city is equal to that of [other] large towns.

As for the fruits—pears, mulberries, [sweet] cherries and sour cherries are met with, but the apples are particularly good. There are other fruits in plenty, sufficient to make one break one's resolutions. Among the wonders of Kashmir are the quantities of mulberry trees, [cultivated] for their leaves, [from which] silk is obtained. The people make a practice of eating the fruit, but rather regard it as wrong. In the season, fruit is so plentiful that it is rarely bought and sold. The holder of a garden and the man that has no garden are alike; for the gardens have no walls and it is not usual to hinder anyone from taking the fruit.

FIRST and foremost among the wonders of Kashmir stand her idol temples. In and around Kashmir, there are more than one hundred and fifty temples which are built of blocks of hewn stone, fitted so accurately one upon the other, that there is absolutely no cement used. These stones have been so carefully placed in position, without plaster or mortar, that a sheet of paper could not be passed between the joints. The blocks are from three to twenty gaz in length, one gaz in depth, and one to five gaz in breadth. The marvel is how these stones were transported and erected. The temples are nearly all built on the same plan. There is a square enclosure which in some places reaches the height of thirty gaz, while each side is about three hundred gaz long. Inside this enclosure there are pillars, and on the top of the pillars there are square capitals; on the top of these again, are placed supports,^426a and most of these separate parts are made out of one block of stone. On the pillars are fixed the supports of the arches, and each arch is three or four gaz in width. Under the arch are a hall and a doorway. On the outside and inside of the arch are pillars of forty or fifty gaz^426b in height, having supports and capitals of one block of stone. On the top of this are placed four pillars of one or two pieces of stone.

The inside and the outside of the halls have the appearance of two porticos, and these are covered with one or two stones. The capitals, the ornamentation in relief, the cornices, the “dog tooth” work, the inside covering and the outside, are all crowded with pictures and paintings, which I am incapable of describing. Some represent laughing and weeping figures, which astound the beholder. In the middle is a lofty throne of hewn stone, and over that, a dome made entirely of stone, which I cannot describe. In the rest of the world there is not to be seen, or heard of, one building like this. How wonderful that there should [here] be a hundred and fifty of them!^426c Nor can any be brought down below say 1200, which is probably the date of that of Páyech… The style during these six centuries is so uniform that it may be taken as one, for the purposes of general history.”

If we assume Mirza Haidar's description to refer to this, the largest of the temples, it may be interesting to compare Mr. Fergusson's account with it. He says: “The temple itself is a very small building, being only 60 feet in length, by 38 feet in width. The width of the facade, however, is eked out by two wings, or adjuncts, which make it 60 feet.” He then cites General Cunningham, who estimated its height to be also 60 feet when complete, thus making each dimension 60 feet. Mr. Fergusson doubted if the temple ever had a roof. No fragments of a roof have been found in modern times on the floor of the temple, and judging from the tenuity of the walls, and the large voids they include, he doubted if they could have supported a stone roof. If, indeed, there was a roof he believed it must have been of wood. The courtyard that surrounds and encloses the temple, was regarded by Mr. Fergusson as a more remarkable object than the temple itself. Its internal dimensions he gives as 220 feet by 142 feet. On each face is a central cell which, if complete, would have reached to 30 feet in height, at the summit of its roof, while the pillars on each side of the cells are 9 feet high. No inscription has been found on the Martand ruin, and its date has been fixed from historical records only.

Mr. T. G. Vigne who published, in 1842, a narrative of his travels in Kashmir, had measurements made of the Martand temple, and records that the greatest length—that of the side walls—was about 270 feet, while that of the front was 168 feet. The height of the pillars, including foot and capital, he made barely 10 feet, and the huge blocks of limestone of which the temple was built, 6 to 9 feet in length, “of proportionate solidity, and cemented with an excellent mortar.” His measurements of the side walls and front, evidently refer to the outer enclosure, and not to the temple itself. They are somewhat in excess of those given by Mr. Fergusson, but this discrepancy may be accounted for by Mr. Vigne having perhaps measured the outside of the walls, while Mr. Fergusson particularly mentions that his figures relate to the interior of the enclosure. But however this may be, the Brobdingnagian proportions of Mirza Haidar's account have to be considerably pared down in every instance, as is usually the case with statements made in figures by Asiatics. The chief interest that his description possesses is, that it is one of the oldest notices of the Kashmir ruins that have come down to us—perhaps the oldest from the pen of any Musulman, or foreign, writer.

As regards the question of the roof, if our author's account were otherwise exact, his particular mention of the existence of a dome would be important; but judging from the inaccuracy of his other statements, this one can scarcely deserve much consideration. (See Fergusson's Hist. of Indian and Eastern Architecture, 1876, pp. 279 seqq.; Vigne's Travels in Kashmir, i., pp. 385-6; also Moorcroft, ii., pp. 239 seqq.; and an interesting paper by Mr. W. Simpson, in the Journal of the Inst. of Brit. Architects for May, 1862.)

Again, to the east of Kashmir there is a district called Barnág [Virnág]. Here there is a hill on the top of which is a ditch [basti] like a tank, and at the bottom of the tank is a hole. It remains dry throughout the year, except during the season of Taurus, when water issues from it.^428a Two or three times a day it gushes out [with such force] that the tank is filled, and enough water flows down the side of the hill to drive one or even two mills. After this it subsides, so that no water remains except in the hole. When the season of Taurus is passed, it again becomes dry for a whole year. Though endeavours have been made to stop it up with lime and mortar, yet when the season has come, all this has been washed away, and it has never been found possible to stop its flow.

Further, in Nágám, a notable town of Kashmir,^428b there is a tree which is so high that if an arrow be shot at the top, it will probably not reach it. If anyone takes hold of one of the twigs and shakes it, the whole of this enormous tree is put in motion.

Again, Div Sar,^428c which is one of the most important districts of Kashmir, contains a spring twenty gaz square. On the sides of it are pleasant shady trees and soft herbage. One boils some rice, puts it in a bottle, closes up the mouth [of the bottle] tightly, and having written a name on it, throws it into the spring and then sits down [to wait]. Sometimes the bottle remains there five years; on other occasions it comes up again the same day: the time is uncertain. If, when it reappears, the rice is found to be warm, the circumstance is regarded as a good omen. Sometimes the rice has undergone a change, or earth and sand may have got inside it. The more [substances] that find their way into it, the more unfavourable is the omen considered.

Moreover, there is in Kashmir a lake called Ulur, the circumference of which is seven farsákhs. In the middle of this lake Sultán Zain-ul-Abidin, one of the Sultáns of Kashmir, erected a palace. First of all he emptied a quantity of stones into the lake, [at this spot] and on these constructed a foundation [or floor] of closely-fitting stones, measuring two hundred square gaz in extent, and ten gaz in height. Hereupon he built a charming palace and planted pleasant groves of trees, so that there can be but few more agreeable places in the world.^429a Finally, this same Sultán Zain-ul-Abidin built himself a palace in the town, which in the dialect of Kashmir is called Rájdán. It has twelve stories, some of which contain fifty rooms, halls, and corridors. The whole of this lofty structure is built of wood.^429b

[Among] the vast kiosks of the world are:—in Tabriz, the Hasht Bihisht Kiosk of Sultán Yakub; in Herat the Bágh-i-Khán, the Bágh-i-Safid, and the Bágh-i-Shahr; and in Samarkand the Kuk Sarái, the Ak Sarái, the Bágh-i-Dilkushái, and the Bágh-i-Buldi. Though [the Rájdán] is more lofty and contains more rooms than all these, yet it has not their elegance and style. It is, nevertheless, a more wonderful structure.

In the Zafar-Náma, Sharaf-ud-Din Ali Yazdi has stated a few facts with regard to Kashmir, but he is not quite consistent with reality. He had never been there himself, but derived his information from travellers, who had not a proper regard for accuracy; hence his statements are not always exact.

THOUGH Kashmir is one of the most famous spots in the world, yet on account of its secluded position, it is seldom visited by any but those who make it the express object of a journey. I here give such details as I have been able to verify; having derived them from trustworthy sources and also from the natives. I have taken its position, size, and extent from geographical works.^430a

Kashmir lies near the middle of the fourth climate, for the beginning of the fourth climate is where the latitude is 33° 54', and the latitude of Kashmir is 34° from the equator. Its longitude from the Jazáir-i-Sadá^430b is 105°. This country runs longitudinally, and is enclosed by mountains on every side; the southern range [lies] in the direction of Dahli [Delhi]; the northern [looks] towards Badakhshán and Khorasán; the west towards the county inhabited by the Ughani [Afghans] tribes; its eastern side terminates in the outlying districts of Tibet. The extent of its level plains from the eastern limits to the western, is about 40 farsákhs, and from south to north 20 farsákhs. In the heart of the level plain lying within this mountainous district, are 1000 inhabited villages, abounding in wholesome streams and vegetation. It is popularly believed that in the whole of the province—plains and mountains together—are comprised 100,000 villages. The land is thickly inhabited, and the soil is cultivated. The climate is very salubrious, while the beauty of the women of the country is proverbial. [Verses.] …

In the mountains and plains are to be found many kinds of fruit-trees, and the fruits are especially good and wholesome. But, since the temperature inclines to be cold and the snow falls in great abundance, those fruits which require much warmth, such as dates, oranges and lemons, do not ripen there; these are imported from the neighbouring warm regions.

In the middle of the valley there is a town called Srinagar, which stretches eastward and westward for a farsákh in cither direction. This is the residence of the governor of the country. Like at Baghdad, there flows through the middle of it a great river, which is even larger than the Tigris. The wonderful thing is that this mighty river comes from one spring, which rises within the limits of the country, and is called the spring of Vir [Virnág]. The people of the place have constructed across this river about thirty bridges of boats bound together by chains, through which they can open a way. Seven of these bridges are in the town of Srinagar, which is the capital of the province and the seat of the governors. After the river has passed the limits of Kashmir, it takes in one place the name of Dandána, in another that of Jumla;^431a it flows through the upper portion of Multán and joins the river Siyáb. The united streams empty themselves into the Sind near the [town of] Ucha, and the whole river thenceforth takes the name of Sind, which discharges itself into the sea of Oman at the extremity of the land of Tatta.^431b

This country [Kashmir] is protected naturally by its mountains on every side, so that the inhabitants, without the trouble of fortifying themselves, are safe from the attacks of enemies. Nor have they anything to fear from the revolutions worked by time, or by the rain or the wind.

There are three principal highways into Kashmir. The one leading to Khorásán is such a difficult route, that it is impossible for beasts of burden with loads to be driven along it; so the inhabitants, who are accustomed to such work, carry the loads upon their own shoulders for several days, until they reach a spot where it is possible to load a horse. The road to India offers the same difficulty. The route which leads to Tibet is easier than these two, but during several days one finds nothing but poisonous herbs, which make the transit inconvenient for travellers on horseback, since the horses perish.^432a

THE conversion of Kashmir is a comparatively recent event. The people were all Hindus and professed the faith of Bráhma. A certain Sultán Shams-ud-Din came thither disguised as a kalandar. At that time there was a governor in every district of Kashmir. There was also a queen, into whose service Sultán Shams-ud-Din entered. After a short time the queen desired to marry Sultán Shams-ud-Din; and not long after this event, his power became absolute throughout Kashmir. He was succeeded by his son Alá-ud-Din, who was in turn succeeded by his son Kutb-ud-Din, during whose reign Amir Kabir Ali the Second, called Sayyid Ali Hamadáni,^432b appeared there. Kutb-ud-Din died in less than forty days,^433a and was succeeded by his son Sultán Iskandar, who established the Musulmán faith and destroyed all the idol-temples. His son Sultán Zain-ul-Abidin succeeded him, and reigned for fifty years.^433b He devoted himself to embellishing Kashmir with buildings, and in order to humour all the nations of the world, he paid attention neither to Infidelity nor Islám. It was in his reign that Kashmir^434a became a city, which it has remained to this day.

In Kashmir one meets with all those arts and crafts which are, in most cities, uncommon, such as stone-polishing, stone-cutting, bottle-making, window-cutting [tábdán-turásh], gold-beating, etc. In the whole of Mávará-un-Nahr, except in Samarkand and Bokhárá, these are nowhere to be met with, while in Kashmir they are even abundant. This is all due to Sultán Zain-ul-Abidin. After him, the power of the Sultáns of Kashmir began to decline, and the Amirs became so strong that the Sultáns ruled in name only; insomuch that outward respect was no longer paid them. Those helpless Sultáns, therefore, in order to secure their own safety, had to flee the country and endure much adversity.

To Sultán Nazak, who is to-day my companion, I have shown far more respect than the former administrators of the kingdom ever showed [their contemporary Sultáns]. Since [the reign of] Zain-ul-Abidin a few of his offspring have borne the title of ‘king,’ but of authority they have had none.

THE people were [formerly] all Hanifi, but in the reign of Fath Sháh, the father of this Sultán Nádir,^434b a man of the name of Shams came from Tálish in Irák,^435a who gave himself out as a Nurbakhshi. He introduced a corrupt form of religion, giving it the name of Nurbakhshi' and practised many heresies. He wrote a book for these cowardly people called Fikh-i-Ahwat, which does not conform to the teachings of any of the sects, whether Sunni or Shia. [These sectaries] revile the companions of the Prophet and Áisha, as do the Shias, but contrary to the teaching of these latter, they look upon Amir Sayyid Muhammad Nur Bakhshi as the Lord of the Age and the promised Mahdi.

They do not believe in the saints and holy persons in whom the Shias believe, but regard all these as [appertaining to] Sunnis. [Shams] introduced many impious practices and infidel beliefs, and gave his heretical sect the name of ‘Nurbakhshi.’ I have seen many of the Nurbakhshi elders in Badakhshán and elsewhere. I discovered that outwardly they follow the precepts of the Prophet and hold with the Sunnis. One of the sons of this Amir Sayyid Muhammad Nurbakhshi showed me his tract. In it was written: “Sultáns, Amirs and fools [or the ignorant] maintain that worldly power cannot be combined with purity and piety. But this is absolutely false, for the great prophets and apostles, in spite of their missions, have exercised sovereignty, and have likewise striven diligently after those other matters [i.e., purity and piety], as for example Joseph, Moses, David, Solomon and our Prophet.”

Now this is opposed to the belief of the Nurbakhshi of Kashmir, and is in accordance with that of the Sunnis. That book, the Fikh-i-Ahwat, which is celebrated in Kashmir, I sent, complete, to the Ulamá of Hindustán, who repudiated it and wrote on the back of it a decree [fatwá] of remonstrance as follows: “In the name of God the Merciful. Oh! God, show unto us the truth in its reality, and the false, wherein it is void; also show us things as they are. After perusing this book and weighing its contents, it seemed clear [to us] that the author of it was of a false sect, who had gone against the Book and the Sunna, and did not belong to any denomination of the people of Truth. His pretension is that God hath commanded him to do away with all dífferences among the people; (Firstly) in the developments and ordinances of the Holy Law, and to make them as they were in his time, with neither increase nor diminution; and (Secondly) in the fundamental principles among all the peoples of the earth. [In this] he is certainly lying, and inclined to heresy and schism. It is the duty of such as have the power, to obliterate such a book, and a religious necessity for them to stamp out and extirpate this sect; to prohibit persons from following it and acting according to its dogmas. If they persist in their belief and abandon not their false creed, it is necessary for the security of Musulmáns, from their evil example, to repulse them with chastisement and [even] death. If they repent and abandon the sect, they must be commanded to follow the teaching of Abu Hanifa.”

At the present time in Kashmir, the Sufis have legitimatised so many heresies, that they know nothing of what is lawful or unlawful. They consider that piety and purity consist in night-watching and abstinence in food; yet they take and eat whatever they find, without ever considering what is forbidden or what is lawful. They give way to their lusts and desires in a manner not consistent with the law. They are for ever interpreting dreams, displaying miracles, and obtaining from the unseen, information regarding either the future or the past. They prostrate themselves before one another and, together with such disgraceful acts, observe the forty [days of retirement]. They blame and detest science and men of learning; consider the Holy Law second in importance to the True ‘Way,’ and that in consequence the people of the ‘Way’ have nothing to do with the Holy Law. In short, nowhere else is such a band of heretics to be found. May the Most High God defend all the people of Islám from such misfortunes and calamities as this, and turn them all into the true path of righteousness.

Thanks be to God that, at the present time, no one in Kashmir dares openly profess this faith; but all deny it, and give themselves out as good Sunnis. They are aware of my severity towards them, and know that if any one of the sect appears, he will not escape the punishment of death. I hope and trust that through the intervention of God and by my own efforts, the land will gradually be entirely delivered of this misfortune, and that all will become, as they now profess to be, Musulmáns from the bottom of their hearts. Amen! Oh Lord of the two worlds!

There was also a sect of infidels who were Sun-worshippers, called Shammási. Their creed is as follows: “The phenomenon of luminosity of the sun is due to the purity of our faith: and our being is derived from the sun's luminosity. If we defile the purity of our creed the sun would no longer have any existence, and if the sun withdraw its bounty from us, we should no longer have any being. We are dependent on it for our existence, and it on us. Without us it has no existence, without it we have none. As long as the sun is visible, our actions are visible to it, and nothing but uprightness is lawful. When night falls, it does not see us or know us.” Since the sun is not aware of what passes in the night, they cannot be called to account for what they do in the night season. This sect used to be called Shammási… When this Mir Shams appeared in Kashmir and corrupted its people, he bore the title of Shams-ud-Din [Sun of the Faith]. All titles descend from heaven, and the real one must have been Shammás-ud-Din. It has been misunderstood by the Kashmiris, or else they called him Shams-ud-Din by way of reproach. For this reason they called him Mir Shams.

BEFORE entering upon the description of Kashmir, I had brought the thread of my story down to the point where, after passing the defile of Lár without difficulty, we entered the city. The army of Kashmir was dispersed, and the townspeople, forsaking their city and homes, fled towards the hills and glens, leaving their property in their dwellings. I took up my quarters in the Rájdán, which has been mentioned, and entrenched my men within its walls. During many days no trace of any one was visible. For twenty-four days we remained there, by which time the horses and cattle had quite recovered their strength. The army of Kashmir was stationed in the middle of some swamps [lái] at about two farsákhs to the south of the city, where they could be seen. Wise men were of opinion that we ought not to remain within the city, but thought that we should march out and watch for an opportunity to give them battle. For, though the enemy were far stronger than we, both in arms and numbers, we might yet defeat them by strategy. [Couplet] … So, sallying forth from the city, we passed, in line, in sight of the enemy, and went and encamped at a place called Baklata^437a on the east side of Kashmir.

In a word, from that date of Jamád II. till Shabán—that is to say, from the end of autumn till the spring—we avoided the army of Kashmir, who on this account became elated, and grew so bold that, at first, every time we marched on, they halted for some days, finding some strong position from which to oppose us. In the first place they would fortify the position secretly, by every means in their power, and then, advancing in the night, would take up a defensive station in the place [where they halted]. At length they became so [confident] that they would follow after us on the same day that we made a move, without taking any precautions. Finally, in a village called Bágh Navin,^438a after they had advanced fearlessly and had hastened over some level ground, having drawn up my men, I turned and faced them. It would be tedious to enter here into details, but, to be brief, in the twinkling of an eye, the wind of victory began to blow and the enemy were scattered and discomfited …^438b The chief Malik of Kashmir, Malik Ali, together with several other eminent Maliks who were generals and commanders, perished.^438c Those who escaped the sword, fled to the tops of the mountains. Many were wounded, while such as remained unhurt had their hearts broken in two from fear. That night they resolved on flight, lest on the morrow it should be impossible. Their generals were alarmed and stupefied.

By the ordering of Providence, the following noteworthy incident occurred to me: I discovered the devilry and base nature of Mirzá Ali Taghái, who for devilish designs is more famous than Satan himself. [Couplet] … In short, Mirzá Ali Taghái came to me and offered his advice, saying: “If our army had fled, it would have been utterly broken. When the [enemy] reach the hills, it is clear that they will there take up a strong position, and it will not be prudent for us to advance into the hills to attack them. It is foolish to risk a disgrace. The way to destroy the enemy at this juncture, is for us to descend with all speed to the lowlands of Kashmir, and attack their families; it will then be impossible that they should remain where they are; they will perforce come down to defend their families. Those that have their households with them in the hills will not want to descend, while those whose families are on the lowlands, will make for the hill-tops. A certain number will remain where they are. Being once separated in this manner, they will find no possibility of reuniting, and no further fighting will be necessary.”

I allowed myself to be deceived by these devilish promptings and lying suggestions, and decided that on the following morning we should descend with all haste. [Couplet] … At dawn [next day] we started on the downward road. Mir Dáim Ali came to me and said with much severity: “What bitterness have we swallowed that matters should have come to this pass? Now that we have scattered the enemy and have driven him into these hills, you would leave him? Where are you going?” I then hesitated and halted, when Mirzá Ali Taghái, who had marched forward, came back and asked why I had stopped. Mir Dáim Ali then repeated to him what he had said to me. Mirzá Ali Taghái, turning towards me his double-faced countenance, said: “It is childish to alter one's decisions; I maintain my opinion still” [Couplet] … But I, setting aside the wise counsel of the provident Mir Dáim Ali, followed the evil advice of that worthless wretch …^439a

In short, we set out and came to the district of Nágám. Mirzá Ali Taghái went in advance. At the second stage we learnt that lower down there was no road, or if there were one, it was not suitable for the passage of an army. Chased from one place, and stopping in another, we finally halted at a spot called Jarura. The army of Kashmir, overjoyed with this march of ours, began again to collect their scattered forces from all sides, and descending from the hills, stationed themselves in a strong position, round which they threw a stockade [shákh]. [Couplet] … This happened on the 4th of Shabán, 939. (An ingenious person found the date in Ruz-i-chahárum az mah-i-Shabán). When Shabán was over and the season of Taurus had come to an end, the snows of mid-winter (that is, the season of Capricorn) were melted from the passes by the heat of the summer sun.

Mirzá Ali Taghái, continuing his intrigues, began to point out, and enlarge upon, the enormous difficulties which the conquest of Kashmir would involve. He thus turned the hearts of the whole army from a desire to conquer Kashmir. The only exception was Mir Dáim Ali, upon whom these base reasonings had no effect. All the leaders of the army of the Moghuls …^439b who had been scattered about, and were now re-united, came to Mir Dáim Ali, and with one mind and one accord said, amid much noise and commotion: “Tell a certain person” (by which they meant me) “that we are Moghuls, and we have been continually occupied with the affairs of Moghulistán. The natural solace and joy of the Moghul Ulus is the desert, in which there is no cultivation [ábádáni]. The screeching of the owl in the wilderness is sweeter, to our ear, than the song of the nightingale in the grove. We have never made a cultivated land our home. Our companions have been the ravenous beasts of the mountains, and our associates the wild boars of the desert. Our favourite haunts and our most agreeable dwellings have been the caves in the mountain tops; our clothing the skins of dogs and wild animals, our food the flesh of birds and wild beasts. How can men of our race associate with this besotted band of infidels of Kashmir, which is the garden of Aram—nay more, a specimen of Paradise? It has been said: The idolaters shall not enter Paradise. Moreover, from Kashmir to Káshghar is a long journey, and not only is the distance great, but the difficulties of the road are well nigh insurmountable. There are [to be considered] our families, our baggage, and our flocks and herds. Without flocks we must despair of our lives: separated from our herds we shall have to give up existence, and resign ourselves to death. Therefore, it is better that having ruined the army of Kashmir, we should return to the Khán. If the Khán kills us, our bodies will at least be buried by our own people. If he does not kill us, we will certainly never again draw our bridles towards any other place than Moghulistán.” [Couplet] …

Mir Dáim Ali came to me and reported what had been said. I was astounded at the men's behaviour. [Verse] … It is related that a certain sweeper [kannás] was passing a perfumer's shop, and when the scent got into his head, he fainted away. A doctor, who happened to be present, cried: “Apply some filth to his nose;” and the man immediately came to his senses. [Two couplets] … Finally, I said to Mir Dáim Ali: “[If I make an attempt to complete the conquest of Kashmir], these cowardly men will be eager to do something to shatter the foundations of sovereignty.” Mir Dáim Ali replied: “On our departure, the Khán told us that Mirzá Ali Taghái, in all affairs of the State, considered in the first place, his own advantage, and generally neglected the rest. By this rule he abides, so that in considering his own personal gain, he entirely ignores the necessities of the State …^440a

“Let us put the Khán's proposal into practice, so that henceforth no one will dare to show signs of insolence or insubordination; perfect concord will ensue, and thus the kingdom of Kashmir, which has never yet been subdued by a Moghul Khákán, will fall into your hands. You will earn a great name for all time, and the gratitude of the race of Moghul Kháns. For this country has never been conquered by any one [of them].”

To this I replied: “It is now ten years since the affairs of the Khán's army have been placed under my direction, and suitable Amirs have always been associated with me. I thank God that hitherto all has gone well with me, and that nothing has ever occurred to cause the finger of reproach or blame to be pointed at me. If this [execution] should take place, all the blame will be laid at my door, and all these Amirs, whose minds are full of devilish promptings, will be convinced that he [Mirzá Ali Taghái] was sent with the army in order that I might carry out the orders of the king of death. He would doubtless make every effort to save his own life, and every one will imagine that in accompanying me, his own life is in danger. Moreover, it would not be acting like a good Musulmán.”

After much reflection, I saw that there were only two courses open to me to pursue. On the one hand, to kill Mirzá Ali Taghái and subdue Kashmir; on the other, to spare him and retire from the country. I finally decided upon the latter course, and sent messages of truce to the Maliks of Kashmir. Thus did I disregard the dictates of wisdom, and my action has caused me much suffering. I have seen what I have seen. As has been said: ‘He that hath his enemy before him, if he do not kill him, he is his own enemy.’ [Couplet] …

THE government of Kashmir was, at that time, conducted in the name of Muhammad Sháh. Among the Maliks of Kashmir, after Ali Mir, who was killed [in an engagement with us], there were Abdál Makri, Kájichak, Láhur Makri and Yakchak. When terms of peace were proposed, they were very thankful, but they did not credit [our good faith], wondering how people who had once conquered such a beautiful country, could be so senseless as to give it up.

In a word the Khutba was read and coins were struck in the exalted name of the Khán. The revenue of Kashmir, which was due to the Moghuls, we took. One of Muhammad Sháh's daughters was wedded to Iskandar Sultán. And everyone, according to his rank, formed a connection [mulákát] with one of the Sultáns or Maliks of Kashmir. I, for example, became connected with Muhammad Sháh, and in accordance with the Moghul practice we called each other “friend.” Similar [relations] were established between Mir Dáim Ali and Abdul Makri; Mirzá Ali Taghái and Láhur Makri; Bábá Sárik Mirzá and Kájichak; my uncle's son Mahmud Mirzá (who will be mentioned below) and Yakchak. Numerous presents and offerings were interchanged.^441a

At the end of Shawál we set out again by way of Lár, as we had come. On reaching the frontiers of Tibet many of the inhabitants hastened out to receive us, bringing presents and flocks. But Karsa,^442a which is a district of Tibet, contains a valley, which is as narrow as a miser's heart, and in it is a very deep ravine, forming a Iofty rampart wall, which seemed beyond the realms of possibility to pass. So narrow indeed was the road, that on the brightest day the darkness of night prevailed there. Trusting to this valley, which they considered no human being could take, they were refractory and refused to pay the tribute [demanded of them]. We encamped there at the noontide prayer-hour. During the night all were engaged in making preparations for an assault. At dawn next day^442b all the warriors raised a shout, and made ready to fight. In short, fierce fighting ensued. More than once the Musulmán forces were driven back by blows, or by rocks which were rolled [down the sides of the ravine], but each time they again made fast the skirt of valour in the girdle of endeavour, and kept a firm footing on the hill-side of holy war! Finally the infidels were routed and most of them perished;^442c those who escaped the edge of the sword fled like chaff before the wind. All their women, children and families fell a portion to the victorious army. The rest of the infidels were filled with the utmost alarm.

To save their own lives and those of their children, they came and delivered up whatever they possessed. All the property of the province of Purik, which is one of the most important in Tibet, was collected together and distributed among the Amirs and soldiers of our army. Having selected a few curiosities and rarities for the Khán, we set out for Máryul.

ON my return from the war, I was most affectionately welcomed by the Khán, who embraced me and showed his abundant regard for me in every way.^443a After these demonstrations, the Khán questioned me concerning the particulars of the campaign. I told him what I have herein written down. When I arrived at the end of my recital, the Khán said: “Hitherto no one of the conquering Khákáns, from the time of Chingiz Khán to the present day, has laid the hand of dominion upon the collar of Kashmir. But now, by your laudable and strenuous efforts, the pulpits of Kashmir have been decorated with the titles of the Moghul Khákáns. The Sultáns of Kashmir, who in former times owed allegiance to none, and the governors who were dependent on them alone, are now subject to the Moghul Kháns. For this mighty achievement, not only I, but all the Moghul Khákáns owe you a debt of gratitude, as do also my nobles, and especially my own children, for whom such a glorious name has been won.”

By order of the Khán, I left the army and entered his [personal] service. On the next day, the rest of the Amirs and Iskandar Sultán had the honour of waiting on the Khán. I laid before the Khán, as offerings, some valuables from Kashmir and some coins both silver and gold, which had been struck in his name, together with other treasures which I had brought back from the various countries. All of these he graciously deigned to accept, and, according to the custom, distributed them [among his men].

These formalities being terminated, he summoned a council of all the great Amirs and nobles. Each one spoke as his feelings prompted him. Having listened to these speeches, the Khán pondered for a while and then said to me: “You well know that it has always been my ardent desire and earnest intention to conduct the holy wars in person. I am resolved on the destruction of the idol-temple of Ursang, which is the point of adoration of the whole of Khitái. Now, this has never been achieved by any Musulmán king; not one of them, indeed, has ever been near the place. My health will not withstand such an undertaking.^443b I have come to the end of my strength, and since I have this feeling of weakness, which is apparent from my exterior, I desire you to commend me to the protection of God, and full of earnestness and religious fervour, to hasten to destroy that temple. I will meanwhile return to my loved home, leaving the whole of the administration in your hands. Let me and your uncle, who have both grown old, retire to the corner of devotion, which is a haven of repose, while you take upon yourself the affairs of the State. We will help you with our prayers for your welfare; you will benefit us by your good actions.”

After this lengthy speech, he issued a mandate of the following purport, viz.: “Mirzá Haidar had been elected. He may take with him whomsoever he chooses. Those who accompany him are subject to his commands and not to mine.”^444a When this mandate had been promulgated, I gave the great Amirs leave to return home. I then chose to accompany me, my brother Abdullah Mirzá and my uncle's son Mahmud Mirzá. I set in command of the army Janaka Mirzá and Bahrika Mirzá, who were both mentioned in the lists [muster roll] at Káshghar. From the rest of the soldiers I selected 2000 men. I then turned my attention to this matter [the invasion of Ursang], and before the [preparations] were completed, six days of Zulhijja were past. This was the extent of my attendance [on the Khán].

On the day of leave-taking, the Khán sent for me privately, and bestowed on me, as gifts, all the royal clothing he had at hand, besides some horses. In addition he gave me a belt and a sheath containing several knives, both of which he had devised himself. He gave these to me with his own hands, saying: “These I have acquired myself, I entrust them to you as a keepsake. If you return in safety, and find me still among the living, you can return them to me. They are a deposit. But if anything should occur which should separate us for ever, you can keep them as a remembrance of me.” I thanked him greatly for his kindness; but the reins of self-control fell from my hands, and my extreme grief and sorrow caused the humidity, which lay in the recesses of my heart, to pour forth by way of my eyes: I was much affected. The Khán, in his kindness of heart, began to comfort me, and after he had in a measure succeeded in quieting my mind, I said to him: “What heart would be strong enough to be consoled after hearing such words as yours? Allow me to accompany you as far as your capital, Yárkand. When I have seen you seated on your happy throne, I will then return to my own duties; in the meanwhile the rest of the army can pasture their cattle in one of the grazing grounds of Tibet.”

But the Khán replied: “It is not wise to despise difficult undertakings. You have misunderstood what I said to you. [My meaning was that there is no living person who does not doubt whether he will remain in the world, or whether he will not taste of the wine of death]; nor is this dependent on an illness. I am not exempt from the hand of fate. Even though I reach Yárkand in safety, I am not secure from death. Since our separation is likely to be of long duration, and since no man can hear what is said, I have taken this opportunity of speaking to you. What I have said to you I have said, and I do not think that your accompanying me and then returning, is compatible with what I have arranged.^445a In every circumstance one must look to God. Everything must be entrusted to Him. I consign you to God, and I hope that we may meet again in Yárkand. Be strong of heart and energetic! The great name you have won by the conquest of Kashmir will be magnified by this expedition.” Having uttered these words he allowed me to depart, and himself set out on the return journey.

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.^446b 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,^447a 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.^448a 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.”^448b 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.

When this message reached my uncle, he was filled with emotion and alarm. He performed the proper ceremonies of mourning, and set out from Káshghar for Yarkand. As it was the season of Asad and the heat was excessive, the Khán's remains were brought in and buried, as quickly as possible, in a chamber of the palace [Diván-khána ]. In the meanwhile, my uncle arrived from Káshghar. Having paid a visit of condolence to the ladies of [the late Khán's] haram, he performed similar duties with respect to the rest of the household. All the Amirs who were on the spot, came and begged my uncle for a compact or treaty. First of all, in the presence of this body of grandees, Ulama and Amirs, he promised that their interests should be attended to even better than they had been in the lifetime of the late Khán. They, on their part, professed their allegiance to him by means of the strongest and most solemn oaths. “We too,” [they said] “will, even more than in times past, show our loyalty and singleness of purpose.” In particular, Mirzá Ali Taghái was profuse in his protestations of devotion and sincerity.

Having satisfied their minds on these points, they turned their attention to the raising up of Abdur Rashid Sultán as the new Khán, and plans were suggested for his installation. These having been settled in the most satisfactory manner, they only awaited the arrival of Rashid Sultán. It was the last day of Zul-hijja when news of his arrival was received. My uncle sent forward the grandees to meet him, and made every preparation for a royal and dignified reception. “But,” he said, “it is not proper that he should make his entry on the last day of the month and of the year, and on a Wednesday. To-night he had better remain in the suburbs, and to-morrow, Thursday, the first of Moharram, and the beginning of the year 940, he should enter the town.” This plan was decided upon and the Amirs went forward.

But Mirzá Ali Taghái went privately, and said to [Rashid Sultán]:—“As the Khán's honour is in my keeping, I feel it my duty to tell him of a scheme now being laid, which was proposed to myself and the Amirs by Sayyid Muhammad Mirzá. I would lay it before you now, in order that timely measures may be taken to check it. The promise he exacted from us was, that as soon as Rashid Sultán arrived, we should lay him by his father's side, and that we should set upon the throne of the Khánate, Iskandar Sultán, who is in Tibet.” Such lies as these he not only invented, but impressed in such a way [on Rashid Sultán] that [the latter] saw no good reason for doubting him. On the morning of Thursday, the first of Moharram 940, Rashid Sultán set out towards his father's tomb. My uncle, clothed in mourning, [two couplets] … was seated by the [late] Khán's grave. As Rashid Sultán rode up to the door of the house, my uncle came forward, his vest rent open, his beard torn, his black turban thrown upon the ground, and on his shoulders black felt [two couplets], … uttering moans and laments. Rashid Sultán [immediately] ordered his men to seize him, which they did from either side, and let fall upon his Musulmán neck, a non-Musulmán sword —severing his head from his body. Ali Sayyid, likewise, who has been mentioned in several places, attained the degree of martyr.

Having murdered these two unfortunates, he dismounted and advanced to the head of his father's tomb. Thence, he went and paid a visit of condolence to the ladies of the haram. Meanwhile, he sent Mirzá Ali Taghái to Káshghar to put to death my uncle's children, Husain Mansur, son of Sayyid Muhammad Mirzá, and Sultán Muhammad Mirzá, son of Mirzá Abá Bakr, and also the son of Sayyid Mahmud; none of these three had attained the age of twenty. He spared no act of insult or violence [towards those who were left alive—namely, the wives and families of my uncle]. Thus were my uncle's faithful and devoted services to Rashid Sultán, rewarded with murder and violence, and those solemn oaths and binding compacts which they had mutually sworn to, consumed like blood-money.^451a [Couplet]… It is a practice among [some] nations to do honour to their dead, by sacrificing the choicest of their flocks and the best of their cattle. Rashid Sultán, on his father's demise, put to death my uncle, his children and Ali Sayyid: that is to say, he sacrificed them. [Two couplets]…

After he had killed my uncle, and had ill-treated [his family], he went on to offer such insults and indignities to the haram of his noble father, as modesty prevents me from describing. Mauláná Sharaf-ud-Din Ali Yazdi, in the Zafar-Náma, describes the misdeeds of Sultán Khalil Mirzá, one of the grandsons of Amir Timur, who succeeded his grandfather on the throne of Samarkand. This passage I have copied exactly into this place. Certainly, with the exception of Sultán Khalil Mirzá, no one but Rashid Sultán has practised such tyranny and wrong. These matters being somewhat delicate to relate, I have copied out the passage in order to give some idea of this lamentable affair. The evident intention of Sharaf-ud-Din Ali Yazdi, in mentioning these hideous deeds, was that his readers and men of note might be warned to avoid criminal acts, and practise works of righteousness.^451b

Rashid Sultán did not stop here, but also subjected to every kind of harsh treatment and insult, his aunts, who were members of my haram, and the mother of the children of Sháh Muhammad Sultán, who have been mentioned above on various occasions, and will be spoken of again in their proper place. The mother of the children of Sháh Muhammad Sultán is Khadija Sultán, a full sister to the late Khán. Though she was suffering from hectic fever and dropsy, and confined to her bed, he banished her and her children into Badakhshán, but ere she could arrive, she died on the road, after undergoing a thousand trials and hardships. Her children, Ismail Sultán, Ishák Sultán, Yakub Sultán, and Muhtarima Khánim—some in infancy, some still at the breast, desolate and friendless exiles—were sent to Kábul, where they were received with fatherly kindness by Timur Sultán, who has been mentioned as being in Hind, in the service of Kámrán Mirzá. He undertook the entire charge of his sister's sons.

Ismail Sultán perished in the wars in Hindustán. Yakub Sultán died a natural death. Muhtarima Khánim was, by my agency, married to Kámrán Mirza, as will be related; Ishák Sultán, also through my influence, is still with Kámrán.

HE was son of Ali Mirák, son of Darvish Husain Barlás. During the Khán's sojourn in the province of Farghána, on the occasion of the release of Rashid Sultán from the captivity of the Uzbeg, and when he rejoined his father, the latter appointed Ghuri Barlás, Muhammadi's uncle, to be [Rashid's] Atá Beg. But about the same time, Ghuri Barlás died a natural death. The office of Atá Beg was then, quite properly, conferred upon Ali Mirák Barlás. A few years after the reduction of Káshghar, Ali Mirák Barlás went on a holy war to Tibet, and the office of Atá Beg to Rashid Sultán, descended by inheritance, to Muhammadi. Soon after this, Rashid Sultán was brought into Moghulistán. The Amirship over all, was given to Mirzá Ali Taghái, while the affairs of the Kirghiz were placed under the control of Muhammad Kirghiz. Muhammadi was likewise in the service of Rashid Sultán, as has been explained.

Ali Mirák Barlás was my uncle's maternal uncle, by reason of which connection, my uncle and I used every effort to further his interests. But Mirzá Ali Taghái was not friendly towards him. Without showing it, he was afraid that my uncle's intentions were evil and his devotion insincere. On [Muhammadi's] account, Mirzá Ali Taghái's dislike for my uncle increased, while Muhammadi, on every occasion, sought to defend my uncle. At length, Sháh Muhammad Sultán was killed by [Muhammadi]. It has been mentioned above, how the Khánims and the heirs of the dead man, were bent on retaliating by the death of Muhammadi, and how my uncle and I rescued him from that calamity. This produced bitterness against me on the part of my maternal aunts, their children and my other relations. All this [hostility] was encountered for the sake of Muhammadi.

The atrocities which took place after the death of the Khán, the murders, the violence, all [seemed to be the working of Mirzá Ali Taghái]. Though Mirzá Ali Taghái used all his influence, yet without the sanction of [Muhammadi], Rashid Sultán would never have committed such scandalous acts. In fact [Muhammadi's] influence for evil was greater [than Mirzá Ali Taghái's], and his control over Rashid Sultán's mind was so great, that the latter did whatever he told him, however “infidel” the action might be. All these lying tales and unrighteous deeds were for the sake of [Muhammadi]. The ladies of the Khán's haram—Rashid Sultán's [step-] mothers—were pressed to marry Muhammadi, and those who did not yield, he went so far, in his resentment, as to plunder and expel. But he did not see fit that the mates of the humá should become the co-mates of the crows.

His own sister Badi-ul-Jamál Khánim had been engaged to Báush Sultán, son of Adik Sultán, the Uzbeg Kazák. When he [Rashid Sultán], in alliance with the Uzbeg Shaibán, routed the Uzbeg Kazák, Báush Sultán, because of his position as son-inlaw, and relying on this [for safety], came forward to meet Rashid Sultán, who threatened to put him to death if he did not at once divorce Badi-ul-Jamál Khánim. Having taken her from this chief, who was worthy of the alliance, he gave her to Muhammadi, whose ancestors had never attained to a dignity nearly so great. This act was a complete breach of propriety: for a peasant was treated as of equal rank with a prince. But Rashid Sultán disregarded everything, and brought disgrace upon his own house. He could not distinguish a man endowed with reason, from a brute beast. Still the most infamous thing of all, was taking her from a worthy man and giving her to an unworthy one. Such a deed is quite unheard of.

[Muhammadi's] influence over Rashid Sultán was without limit, but the reason for it was never apparent. It did not lie in the merit of past services, nor in his intelligence and sagacity as an Amir; nor yet in eloquence in council, nor in affable manners or good breeding, nor in vivacious humour at feasts, nor in courage in battle, nor in grace or charm of bearing. [Verses] … All that he said and did, was tainted with falsehood and evil. In short, all the unworthy deeds of Rashid Sultán are to be traced to him. We have nothing further to blame Rashid Sultán for, than that he allowed himself, on every occasion, to be guided by Muhammadi. There has lately come a report that Muhammadi has bidden this life farewell. If it is true, it is not unlikely that Rashid Sultán will grasp the reins of rectitude, and renouncing his evil ways, will repent him fully. Amen. Oh Lord of the two worlds!

WHEN the Khán set out for Yarkand, I took leave of him, and in the first ten days^454a of Zulhijja of the year 939, after keeping the feast of the Sacrifice in Máryul, I set out to destroy the idol-temple of Ursang. After marching for twenty days in that part of Tibet, we found no signs of infidels, except a few fortresses. These were so strongly situated and fortified, that they could only have been taken with great difficulty, and the gain was not worth the pain. Leaving behind Iskandar Sultán, my brother Abdullah Mirzá and my cousin Mahmud Mirza, together with the heavy baggage and the tired beasts of burden, I took the strongest and freshest of the horses with me, and started in all haste.

On the first of Safar we reached a place called Bármáng. Here we found some of the Chámpa people of Tibet, whom we plundered; nearly 300,000 sheep fell to the lot of our victorious army, besides prisoners, horses and goods, in proportion. For the completion of our desires, and the satisfaction of our necessities, we halted in a suitable pasture land, to rest and refresh our horses; by this means we afforded Iskandar Sultán, Abdullah Mirzá and Mahmud Mirzá, time to overtake and rejoin us. But while I had hastened forward, they had followed leisurely, and on the first of Moharram 940, they had approached one of the abovementioned fortresses, which was called Kárdun.

The despicable men [in the fortress] being reduced to extremities, applied for aid to one of the Rai of Hindustán, who sent 3,000 Hindu Katará-dar infantry^454b [men armed with short swords]. [Couplet …]. Iskandar Sultán and my brothers advanced with 200 men, to give them battle, but they pushed forward so rapidly that only a few of the 200 kept up with them. My brother, Abdullah Mirzá, was a daring youth, and had already distinguished himself in the Khán's service in Balti, where having gained the juldu, he was respected by all the army. Elated and animated by this distinction, and without reflection, he neglected to await the main body, but advancing with only three men, threw himself into the middle of the 3,000. He was dismounted, but at this juncture my cousin Mahmud Mirzá came up with four men. Seeing his brother [cousin?] in this plight, he too made a daring charge, and saved his brother from imminent danger; whereupon the latter again returned to the charge, only to be a second time dismounted. At this moment five of the bravest warriors arrived on the scene, and seeing the two brothers so hard pressed, they charged the enemy; but by this time my brother, Abdullah, had been cut in pieces—so completely that each separate part of his cuirass and coat was in the possession of some infidel. [Four couplets] … I repeated the verse, “Verily unto God do we return.”

I halted for some days in that pasture-ground, until the beasts were rested and refreshed. I then sent back all the booty that had fallen into our hands, and having chosen out 900 men from the army, set forth with them for Ursang. From Máryul of Tibet to that place is two months' journey. After one month's journey, one comes to a spot where a lake is situated; it is forty farsákhs in circumference, and on its shores there is a castle, which is called Luk-u-Labuk. We halted there for the night; the next morning we found all our horses had died, except a few that were half dead—groaning and writhing [with pain]. Thus of my own twenty-seven horses, only one was, on that morning, in a sound condition, two others were dying, and the remaining twenty-four were dead. The cause [of their death] was the dam-giri, which has been described above.

When we left that place, [only] a fifth part of the army were mounted, all the rest proceeded on foot. On the second day we plundered the province of Ham [or Hari]. The people of that place assert that it is twenty-four days' journey into Bangála. Many captives were taken by us. Those of our army who were mounted on serviceable horses, only numbered ninety men. With these ninety, I advanced and plundered a place called Askábrak. About 100,000 sheep, 20,000 kutás and a proportionate number of prisoners and horses, fell into our hands. There remained eight days' journey from Askábrak to Ursang. However, the horses of our party being entirely broken down, we were obliged to turn back. Six days later, we reunited and set out on our return. This took place on the 8th of Rabi II. On the last day of Jamád II. we overtook the party that had been sent back with the booty and plunder, at a place called Támlik, which is twenty days' journey from Máryul.^456a

The Guga people came and represented to us that Guga was the chief district of Tibet; they were willing to pay any capitation tax which I might impose, in accordance with the extent and wealth of the country; I therefore proceeded to Guga, where I arrived in two marches from Támlik. I was received by the people in the most respectful, obedient, and hospitable way. After staying there three days, and fixing the levy at 3,000 Tibetan mithkáls (one of which is equal to one and a half statute mithkál) I returned, and on the road heard of the dispersion [virán] of my army, which I will speak of immediately.

There yet remained with me more than a hundred men; these were all brave soldiers or commanders of battalions, whose service was hereditary, who had often distinguished themselves in battle, and had won juldus; each one also had been born to the title of Amir. Some of them were my [foster]-brothers, and were called [by me] Kukildásh; from these I had no reason to expect opposition. But on the morrow I discovered that all my trusted men had disappeared, like the stars at dawn.

After the sun had lit up the earth's dark surface, Ján Ahmad Ataka, who has been already mentioned as my foster-brother, came to me with a certain Sháh Muhammad, a Kukildásh, and one of the most distinguished of that band. With them they brought five followers. Thus was the fear of loneliness dispelled. After a while, Iskandar Sultán and my cousin Mahmud came back, and having collected about fifty men we proceeded towards Máryul. It was the beginning of the season of Capricorn, and the commencement of winter-time. [Couplet]… The cold was so intense that were I to describe it, I should be accused of word-painting. Out of those fifty men, more than forty had either hands or feet, or nose or ears, taken off by the cold [frost-bitten]. Sustaining such fatigues and sufferings as these, at the end of twenty-five days we reached Máryul. The Chui of Máryul, named Táshikun and Lata Jughdán, who have been mentioned in a few places already, hastened out to wait upon us. Since we had [on a former occasion] treated them with violence, both plundering and killing [their people], I was inwardly in great fear of them. But contrary to my apprehensions, they showed their willingness to assist us in every way, and even proffered excuses, saying: “For four hundred years, from father to son, we have been the subjects and you the king; we the slave, you the master; if in the days of your glory and greatness we were alarmed and trangressed, we met with our due retribution at your hands. At that time the Chui of Tibet submitted to and obeyed you, solely from fear. But now we offer our services, out of attachment to you, and in all sincerity.” [Verses.]

They gave us the castle of Shaya, which is the capital of Máryul.^460a In Shaya we took the opportunity to recover [from our fatigues], and here, some of the army who had stayed behind, now rejoined us. Among them was Maulána Darvish Muhammad Kará Tágh, one of the attendants of Khwája Muhammad Yusuf, who has been mentioned above. This Mauláná Darvish Muhammad was a pious and devoted Musulmán. He knew the Tibetan language remarkably well, and enjoyed the entire confidence of all the Chui of Tibet. He was thus able to settle all our affairs with them in a satisfactory way.

From Kashmir there came a certain man named Háji, who attached himself to my service; he will be mentioned frequently hereinafter; our party now numbered more than sixty persons.

But the disbanded army, as it advanced, began to suffer from the change in the season; so much so, that most of the men were unable to proceed, while those who attempted to go on, lost all their effects. Nearly one hundred and fifty men died from exposure to the cold. The rest arrived in a half-dead state at Yárkand. Another party, turning back, reached Máryul in a helpless condition. Thus a body numbering five hundred men was again assembled, together with about 10,000 sheep. [For a time] we enjoyed a complete rest.

Before reaching Máryul, I sent forward Ján Ahmad Ataka and Sháh Muhammad Kukildásh, to Rashid Sultán in Yárkand, with many gifts from the spoil we had taken in our last expedition. I also wrote him a few lines, reminding him of our ancient bonds of friendship, and sent him as proof thereof, some old tokens we had interchanged. A dark coloured Arab pustin, and a steel báluka, both of which Rashid Sultán had given me, I now sent back to him, just as they were [ba-jins]. [Verses] …

Towards the close of that winter Rashid Sultán sent Bidakan, son of my foster-brother Ján Ahmad Ataka, accompanied by Hasan Divána, to bear to me messages of apology and expressions of repentance. His past behaviour [he admitted] had been due to his ignorance, and was a cause for shame in this world and the next. He now frankly begged the forgiveness of his dear friend. He had sent Mauláná Kudásh with two hundred men, for my service. All those of my following who had gone over to him, might now return to me; no one should hinder them. He also sent me some horses and other gifts. I was not a little encouraged by these messages, and most of Tibet submitted.

In the meanwhile Mauláná Kudásh arrived, bringing with him some of my chief retainers. Being reinforced by this band, we marched for Bálti, which touches the confines of Kashmir. All Bálti paid the appointed tax in kind, without hesitation or delay. Suru is a department of Bálti, and its chief defence and stronghold. Mauláná Kudásh asked permission from me to go and impose a levy upon Suru, but I would not consent to this, knowing that those infidels would not be willing to let any one visit their districts and valleys.^461a [Indeed the people of Suru] begged that [no one might come]. “Whatever amount is due,” [they said], “that we will ourselves bring to the camp where you now are; there is no need for you to come [to us].” However, when the fowler of destiny places the grain of earthly desire in the net of fate, not even a bird of wisdom can escape from that net. [Couplet]… But Kudásh, not accepting my refusal, was so importunate in his demands that I at last sanctioned his going, and he set forth. The people of Suru put him to death in a narrow pass, together with twenty-four worthy men who were with him; they were subjected to a hundred ignominies, and were unable to strike a blow. Although our force numbered some seven hundred men, yet, on account of our poverty and want of arms, we were unable to avenge him. [Three couplets]…

Leaving Bálti, we set out towards a province in Tibet called Zangskar. The crops had, as yet, attained no height; harvest time was not yet come, when we arrived. While we were waiting for the harvest, that we might divide the crops, one of the Chui of Bálti, named Tangi Sakáb, who had in the past rendered us useful services, came and told us that the time had come to go and attack the murderers of Kudásh, that is to say, the people of Suru. “You can go and pillage their country,” [he said], “carry off their women and take vengeance on their men.”

Some of those who had lost their strength, were at once despatched to Máryul, in order that the strong men among us might proceed with all speed. I sent my cousin to escort the party [going to Máryul], as one day's march of that journey was very dangerous. He was to see them [safely] through this part of the road. At night he encamped there. As the place was dangerous, he kept his horse by him all through the night. During his sleep, the horse, while grazing, kicked him so hard on the forehead as to fracture his skull [making a wound] the size of the hoof. On the next day he came to me and showed me his wound. According to the practice of Moghul surgeons, I broke the bone [again], and seizing the edge of it, applied remedies. I then sent to tell Tangi Sakáb what I had done. He sent back answer: “Since your coming would involve no little difficulty, [you had better] send me a small contingent to take Suru. We will send you a fifth part of all that falls into our hands. This also would be an acceptable service.”

Between Zangskar, where I was dwelling, and Sut,^462a the home of Tangi Sakáb, is five days' journey. I sent [to Tangi Sakáb], seventy men under the command of Mauláná Darvish Muhammad Kará Tágh, who enjoyed the entire confidence of the Chui of Tibet, and Nur Ali Divána, one of the most promising young soldiers, and who had turned back to rejoin me. Nearly two months were passed in exchange of messages before a decision was arrived at. Mahmud Mirzá's wound had opened afresh, and it became quite impossible for him to remain in Zangskar, on account of the severity of the weather. So I was obliged to send him back to Máryul, while I remained in Zangskar, in order that, as soon as he had reached Máryul in safety, I might myself proceed to Suru, where I hoped to find some means of existence. When Mahmud reached the spot where he had received the kick from his horse, he halted for the night, and on the morrow, as he was about to mount, he exposed his head to apply the dressing. The cold got into the wound and, fainting away, he became insensible. At noontide prayers a person came and informed me of his condition. I at once set out in all haste to see him. I arrived at midnight and found him unconscious. On the following day he came to himself and entirely recovered consciousness. The next day also, he was conscious, but on the third day he began to talk incoherently, and two nights later he died.^463a

Meanwhile a messenger arrived from the party which I had despatched against Suru, saying that Nur Ali Divána, in company with his companions and Mauláná Kará Tágh, had gone to attack Bághán, who was a Chui of the provinces of Tibet. Mauláná Darvish Muhammad having enticed him into a place [apart], they exchanged blows, and at length Bághán, being mortally wounded, they made a present of that infidel to the Musulmáns, and taking leave, proceeded to Yárkand.^463b That infidel killed the Mauláná by transfixing him with a stick. Thus the Suru expedition came to nothing. Having conveyed Mahmud's body to Máryul, I sent it on thence to Káshghar [to be buried in the tomb] of his forefathers. These events happened in the beginning of the season of Scorpio. It was at the commencement of the cold season of Tibet, that we went to Máryul. That winter, until spring came round, we passed in such a manner that, were I to describe our sufferings, I should be suspected of exaggeration.

On the return of spring, seventy persons were sent with the horses, to a place called Utluk—a ravine [mughára] famous in all Tibet for the richness of its crops. I spent the interim in hunting the wild ass and the wild kutás, and then returned. On my departure, I had left Iskandar Sultán in Máryul with a body of men. When we had once again reassembled, the horses had grown fat and strong, but our men, unable to support the pressure of misfortune and trial, all at once dispersed and went off to Yárkand; only fifty of them stayed behind, the rest all fled. At this juncture Ján Ahmad Ataka, whom, two years previously (on my return from the Ursang expedition) I had sent to Rashid Sultán (as was mentioned), came back from Yárkand, bringing the orders that we were to stay no longer in Tibet. Hitherto my reason for lingering in Tibet had been, that if of my own choice I moved to some other place, I should be accused of breaking my engagement. He [Rashid Sultán], however, while outwardly pretending to be upright, had broken this engagement, which he had sworn to with the most solemn oaths, and now, disregarding every [honourable] consideration, ordered me to take flight. [Verses]… No sooner had Ján Ahmad Ataka delivered his message, than I set out for Badakhshán.

I MENTIONED above that out of my force of 700 men, only fifty remained with me. The rest all got away to Yárkand, as best they could. It has also been already observed, that the difficulties of travelling in Tibet are due to the scarcity of provender and the terrible severity of the cold, while the roughness of the paths is almost beyond conception. We were without a proper supply of clothing and food, and more particularly of horse-shoes, which are above all things indispensable on those roads; our horses were few, and were in a broken condition. To remain in Tibet, therefore, became impossible; while to leave it was difficult. However, if to stay and to go were both attended by obstacles, there was at least hope in the latter course; to it we might look for a termination of our troubles, but we could foresee none if we determined to stay. [Verse]… [The routes] to Kashmir, Káshghar, Turfán, and Hindustán were all equally impossible. The road to Badakh-shán was the only one that offered any hope of safety.

No one of us had ever travelled from Tibet to Badakhshán, excepting by way of Káshghar. But among those who had deserted and fled to Yárkand, was a certain man named Jahán Sháh. He once related that he had heard from the people of the mountain districts of Yárkand, that from a place called Tágh Nák,^464a

there was a bye-path leading to the Pamirs of Badakhshán. I had inquired the particulars of him. By that unknown road we now advanced. “Can one travel by a road one has never seen and knows not?” Of the fifty persons who had remained with me many, from want of strength, stayed behind in Tibet.

I moved off finally, with twenty-seven men. [We suffered much] from want of supplies for the journey—from the weakness of the beasts of burden, from the difficulties of the road and from the cold. For although it was now the season of Virgo, the cold was so severe, that at a place we came to called Kara Kuram, as the sun sank, the river (which is a large one) froze over so completely, that wherever one might break the ice, not a drop of water was forthcoming. ^465a We continued our efforts [to obtain water] until bedtime prayers. The horses that had travelled all day over dam-giri ground, arriving at a stage where there was neither water nor grass, refused to eat the little barley that was left (and which we now gave them) because they had not drunk. Ján Ahmad Ataka said: “I remember once noticing a spring at about half a farsákh's distance from here.” He indicated a spot in the middle of the ice, where we had to cut a hole; this time there was water, and we gave the horses to drink. There was one mare [hajr] among them, the strongest of all the beasts, whose teeth, from want of water, became so tightly locked together, that in spite of every exertion she could not drink, and therefore died.^465b The baggage which she had carried was thus left behind. This will give some idea of the intensity of the cold. [Verse.] …

When, after much hardship, we reached the spot where the untried road to Badakhshán branched off, Iskandar Sultán came to ask my permission to make his way to Rashid Sultán, saying: “Perhaps his brotherly affection will induce him to take pity on me, and cause him to heal the wounds which have hitherto cut him off from his relations.” I replied: “Your brother is certainly not a man of his word, as his actions testify. Good faith is the first duty of a Musulmán; but he is so entirely under the evil influence of Muhammadi, that you need never expect mercy at his hands.” [Quatrain] … With such words did I attempt to dissuade him, but he, being worn out with the sufferings of the journey and the misfortunes in Tibet, shut his eyes to the path of reason, and was so persistent in his demands, that at last I gave him leave to go, sending four men to accompany him.

My party of twenty-seven, by the loss of these five, was thus reduced to twenty-two, and with these I went forward upon this [strange] road. A few of our horses had become useless from want of shoes. On the same day that we parted from Iskandar Sultán, towards midday prayer-time, we killed a wild kutás. With its skin we made coverings for the feet of our disabled horses: of its flesh we carried away as much as we were able, and even then there remained what would have been sufficient for a day or two. This was a favour bestowed upon us by the Giver of daily bread. We carried away as much as our beasts could bear, which amounted to about five days' provisions for the party. I suppose about a quarter of the kutás was lost: that is to say about that quantity remained behind. The crows and ravens, by their screams, gave a general invitation to the beasts of prey of the neighbourhood, and they celebrated a feast in company.^466a

We proceeded in this manner, guessing [our way]. On the next day we killed another kutás, of a very large breed. [Couplet.] …

From the information I had gathered from Jaháh Sháh, I reckoned that it would be another six days, before we should come to a cultivated region; but on the third day after our separation from Iskandar Sultán, at about breakfast-time, we met with some men with their families, some of whom came out to receive us with great cordiality, and asked us whence we had come and whither we were going. They told us that this valley was called Rás Kám, and that from here to [the] Pamir was five days' journey. When we arrived at this place [Rás Kám], all of us took a rest, after the trials of so many years.

The people took over all our broken horses and gave us strong ones in their stead. They also supplied us, in the most hospitable manner, with such meat and drink as they had to give. When they saw me, they all began to weep and cried, in their own language: “Thanks be [to God] that there still remains a prince of the dynasty that has ruled over us for four hundred years: we are your faithful and devoted servants.” They then attached themselves, with their wives and families, to me. I was powerless to hinder them. At every place we came to, I was joined by all the men, women and children of the district. For the space of seven days they lavished every attention and honour upon us, brought us to the Pamir, and induced us to proceed to Badakhshán. (Sulaimán Sháh Mirzá, the son of Mirzá Khán, the son of my maternal aunt, has been mentioned in several places above. When I came to his [abode] he hastened out to receive me, showing me honour, by every means at his disposal.)^467a We then offered up a thousand thanks to God Almighty, who had delivered us from such great dangers, and had brought us into safety; [verse] … and from a land of Infidels to one of true Believers. [Three couplets.] …

When we reached Wákhán, which is the frontier [sar-hadd] of Badakhshán, there came to me one of Rashid Sultán's followers, who was there on some business. I gave him some Turki verses, which I had composed, to deliver over to his master…^467b

If I were to detail the acts of violence and unkindness of Rashid Sultán, a separate chapter would be necessary. God willing an account of his life will be given in the First Part; repetition would not be pleasing.

To be brief, at this time my wife, who was Rashid Sultán's paternal aunt, was banished [ikhráj] in a kindly way, with Iskandar Sultán to accompany her. Another act of kindness was that she was not robbed, or deprived of anything; all that she had at hand was sent with her. She reached Badakhshán, however, in a pitiable and destitute condition. About ten persons were allowed, by Rashid's favour, to accompany her, and these took with them all their cattle.^467c

That winter I passed in Badakhshán in perfect comfort, and the spring I spent in the plains and hills of that country; in the summer I went to Kábul. Soon after my arrival, there came together, in Kábul, some of my connections who had been banished [by Rashid Sultán]: namely, the Khán's wife, Zainab Sultán Khánim, who was his cousin, with her children Ibráhim Sultán (the Khán's favourite child), Muhassan Sultán and Mahmud Yusuf.

[Afterwards] I passed on into Hindustán. When I reached Láhur I found Kámrán Mirzá, son of Bábar Pádisháh, there. He came out to meet me with every mark of respect, and bestowed honours on me. From the depths of distress and hardship, I found myself raised to honour and dignity. [Verses.] … The princely patronage and attention [of Kámrán Mirzá] acted as an antidote to the numerous sufferings and griefs, which had made the sweetness of life bitter on the palate of my soul. [Verses.] …

At this period, one of the sons of Sháh Ismáil marched upon Kandahar, and captured it. It came about thus: Sám Mirzá, one of Sháh Ismáil's sons, fleeing with a body of men from his brother Sháh Tahmásp, reached the territory of Sistán. Thence he turned towards Kandahár, where was Mir Khwája Kilán. This Mir Khwája Kilán was the son of Mauláná Muhammad Sadr, one of the pillars of religion and state to Mirzá Amar Shaikh, son of Mirzá Sultán Abu Said. His [Mauláná Sadr's] children, after the death of Mirzá Amar Shaikh, entered, by hereditary succession, the service of Bábar Pádisháh, for whom they achieved great things. In that family their reputation stands high, for six brothers were killed in battle on separate occasions, and this one, Mir Khwája Kilán, alone survived.

He was a brave and learned man, and by his sound judgment was able to regulate most of the Emperor's affairs of State. It was owing to his exertions that, under the divine decree, the Emperor achieved the conquest of Hindustán.^468a In short, he defended the fort of Kandahár in such a way, that Sám Mirzá, after besieging it vigorously and persistently for eight months, was unable to take it. At the end of eight months, Kámrán Mirzá arrived from Hindustán and engaged [Sám Mirzá] in battle, at the very gates of the fort of Kandahár. Through the gallantry and energy of Mir Khwája Kilán, victory declared for Kámrán Mirzá after a hard fought combat, and Sám Mirzá, humbled and discomfited, fell back on Irák,^468b while Kámrán Mirzá returned to Láhur. It was at that time that I arrived at Láhur.

That winter passed over, and in the following spring, Sháh Tahmásp marched against Kandahár to avenge his brother. It was this Sháh Tahmásp who, whenever he made war upon Khorásán, met with such determined opposition from the Uzbeg under Ubaid Ullah Khán, and such overpowering resistance from their numerous forces, that he was always compelled to retreat. [Couplet]… Mir Khwája Kilán was not able to put the fort in a state to withstand a siege, on account of the numbers and the strength of Sháh Tahmásp's army, and also because, having the year before sustained a siege of eight months, his ammunition and other necessaries were exhausted. Moreover, he entertained no hope of Kámrán Mirzá coming to his relief. Under these conditions, he abandoned Kandahár and retired to Ucha and Tatta, whence he passed on to Láhur.

When this news reached the ears of Kámrán Mirzá, he resolved to march [at once] for Kandahár. Leaving the whole of Hindu-stán and its dependencies in my charge, and giving me entire authority over all his officials and nobles—setting me, in fact, over the whole of the affairs of his kingdom—he proceeded to Kandahár. On reaching this place, the emissaries of Sháh Tahmásp gave the fort up to him peacefully, and returned to Irák. This journey [of Kámrán Mirzá] lasted rather more than a year, during which period I did all that was possible to discharge my duties, in the administration of the State. I attended carefully to collecting taxes, suppressing revolt, protecting the frontiers and establishing Islám, so that when Kámrán Mirzá returned, in the full glow of victory, to his capital Láhur, he raised my salary from fifteen to fifty laks, and distinguished me among my peers, by his favours. One lak of Hindustán is worth twenty thousand sháhrukhis. A current sháhrukhi is worth one mithkál of silver.^469a