A few years after the elevation of this extraordinary woman, Churrum,
the third son of Jehangire, who afterwards ascended the imperial
throne under the assumed designation of Shah Jehan, began to interrupt
the harmony of the state. He had been sent with a powerful army into
the Deccan to quell a formidable confederacy against the reigning
authority, and having succeeded in reducing the insurgents to
obedience, began to show his ambitious designs upon the crown. Under
the most plausible pretences, and while in command of the army with
which he had just quelled a dangerous insurrection, he persuaded the
Emperor to put into his hands Chusero, Jehangire’s eldest son, and
consequently heir to the throne, who had been imprisoned for rebellion.
It soon became evident why he had been so urgent to obtain the person
of his rebellious brother. Chusero was the grand obstacle between him
and the crown. The traitor Churrum now shortly threw off the mask, and
publicly declared his designs. His success in the Deccan had endeared
him to the troops; his courage had gained their confidence, and his
liberality secured their affections. Confiding in his imagined power,
he disregarded the mandates of his father, continued in arms, and
commanding his unhappy brother to be murdered under the walls of Azere,
immediately assumed the imperial titles.
The Sultana had long suspected the intentions of Churrum. In spite of
the veil which he had thrown over his base designs, they did not escape
her penetration. Ambition was the dominant feeling in the bosom of this
crafty prince. The Empress, seeing the evils likely to accrue from this
fierce passion if suffered to operate unchecked, determined to take
precautions to contravene his measures. Before the death of Chusero she
saw that the unnatural brother, into whose power he had fallen, had a
design upon the throne. Every action of his public life had shown a
secret but undeviating perseverance in the pursuit of dominion, not to
be mistaken. His cunning she felt might be overreached, but his talents
were formidable. He was not only a crafty intriguer, but a brave and
successful general. He had become the idol of the army; and with such a
mighty engine to power, she dreaded the final success of his schemes.
She declared her suspicions to the Emperor, who was at first unwilling
to entertain them; but the wife had such an influence over the mind of
her royal husband, that he always listened with great confidence to
her suggestions. She assured him that Churrum must be watched, advised
his recall, and that the army should be placed under a less dangerous
command. She insisted upon speedy and decisive measures, in order to
obviate danger to the state. To the Emperor’s doubts of Churrum’s
ambitious intentions she answered:
“A man does not seek the instruments of authority but to employ them.
When princes lay themselves out for popularity they intend to make the
mob their tools, and the citizens their stepping-stones to dominion.
He who has once deceived is never to be trusted; and I can too well
discover that, under the smiles of allegiance which so frequently play
upon the features of Prince Churrum in his father’s presence, hypocrisy
lurks like the serpent in a bed of flowers.”
After a while Jehangire was convinced by the arguments of the Sultana
of his son’s evil designs, which an account of Chusero’s death soon
confirmed. He was enraged at such a sanguinary act of ambition, and
determined to punish the fratricide. In order to obviate the stigma
which he knew would be attached to the crime of murdering a brother,
the crafty prince affected such extreme grief, that he was believed by
many to be innocent of so atrocious an offence. Jehangire, however, or
rather his Empress, was not to be deceived by this barefaced hypocrisy:
the former wrote him a letter, accusing him of the crime; at the same
time ordering the body of his murdered son to be disinterred; it was
brought to the capital, and buried with the honours due to his rank.
Although Prince Churrum was married to a niece of Noor Jehan the
hostility between him and the Empress had risen to such a height
that it was perfectly implacable. The rebellious prince well knew
that he owed the indignation of his parent to her influence; he
therefore resolved to lose no time in endeavouring to get her into his
power. Seeing no probability of a reconciliation with his father, he
determined to continue in his rebellion.
At the suggestion of his consort, Jehangire prepared to reduce his son
to obedience; but his troops being at a distance, he could not bring
an army into the field. At this critical juncture, a courier arrived
from Mohabet Chan, the imperial general, stating that he was advancing,
with all the forces of the Punjab, to join the royal army. Shortly
after, the troops of Jehangire engaged the rebels and entirely defeated
them. The refractory prince was so overcome by this unexpected reverse
of fortune, that he meditated suicide. The paroxysm, however, passed,
and he fled to the mountains of Mewat, where he found for the moment a
secure refuge from the anger of his father and the hostility of Noor
Jehan. Misfortune followed him: his party was defeated in Guzerat.
Still the royal rebel was so formidable, that it was resolved to take
him alive, as the only means of extinguishing the flames of civil war,
always disastrous to the victors as well as to the vanquished. Mohabet
Chan was therefore despatched, at the head of a large detachment of
Rajpoots, a race of soldiers proverbially brave, to capture the royal
insurgent. Churrum, in consequence, quitted his retreat, determined
to face the danger and try the chance of another battle. Crossing the
river Nerbudda, in the province of Malwa, he threw up works to defend
the ford. Of the large and well-appointed army which had followed him
into the Deccan there remained only a small dispirited remnant, and
desertions were daily thinning his lines. He had no reliance upon the
soldiers, dejected from successive defeats, and murmuring for their
arrears of pay, which he was unable to provide. He lost his energy,
became incautious and irresolute, and allowed himself to be surprised
by the imperial general, who routed his disheartened forces with great
slaughter, and forced him again to seek refuge in the hills. He soon,
however, passed through Golconda, and took the route to Bengal.
His escape was a source of severe mortification to the Sultana, who
foresaw that the repose of the state was not likely to be secured
until he should either be taken or destroyed. She was besides anxious
that the succession should be fixed upon Shariar, the fourth son
of Jehangire, who had married the daughter whom she had borne to
Shere Afkun. By her representations, no doubt in the main just, the
Emperor’s enmity towards his son was kept alive; of which the latter
being aware, saw that it would not be prudent to trust himself within
the walls of his father’s capital. He had more than once thought of
throwing himself upon the paternal clemency; but his knowledge of the
Sultana’s vindictive spirit, and the consciousness of his own manifold
derelictions, kept him from running the risk of captivity for life, if
not of undergoing extreme punishment.
His affairs, however, now began to assume a more favourable aspect.
Having invested the fort of Tellia Gurri, in Bengal, with a new army
which he had raised in that province, after an obstinate defence
by the garrison, he succeeded in carrying the place by storm. This
unexpected success animated him to new exertions. He now overran the
whole district, which shortly submitted to his arms. He reduced Dacca,
a considerable city, and once the capital of Bengal, in which he found
an immense treasure in gold and silver, besides jewels and warlike
stores. The Suba was deposed, and a new governor raised, who ruled in
the name of Shah Jehan, by which title Prince Churrum finally ascended
the imperial throne.
No sooner had he settled the government of Bengal, than he turned his
thoughts to the neighbouring province of Bahar. The governor fled at
his approach; but the wealthy zemindars crowded to his camp to offer
him their allegiance. He accepted their submission, together with
the rich presents which they brought to ratify the mutual compact of
protection and affiance, and to confirm their sincerity. But the most
important occurrence, and which greatly tended to strengthen him in
his new conquests, was the unexpected submission of Mubarick, governor
of the fort of Rhotas, who came to his camp, presented him the keys,
and made a vow of perpetual fealty. This fortress was considered
unimpregnable. It had never been taken by force, and was therefore
looked upon by the rebellious prince as a place of security for his
family. Here he immediately removed them; and being now relieved from
immediate anxiety on their account, he was better prepared to encounter
the dangers of the field, and to brave the vicissitudes of fortune.
This uninterrupted current of success inflamed the pride of the royal
rebel, and he fancied himself in a condition to contend for the
imperial sceptre with that army which had already twice so signally
defeated him. Mohabet Chan had again taken the field, and marched as
far as Benares, on the banks of the Ganges, to chastise the insurgents,
who mustered upwards of forty thousand horse,--a force scarcely
inferior to the imperialists in number,--and were drawn up on the bank
of a small stream.
The battle was desperate, but decisive. The rebels were routed after a
prodigious slaughter. The conduct of Prince Churrum on this occasion
was marked by reckless bravery. Plunging into the thickest of the fight
with five hundred horse, who had resolved to devote themselves to death
with their leader, he maintained a sanguinary struggle against immense
odds, and would, no doubt, have fallen a victim to his despair, had not
some of his officers seized the reins of his charger, and forced him
from the battle to a place of security. He fled to the fort of Rhotas,
where he had left his family. The plunder of his camp, which contained
the spoils of Dacca, saved him from immediate pursuit.
Leaving his family in the fortress, where he imagined they would be
secure, the wretched prince collected the scattered remains of his
army, and threw himself into Patna, which he determined to defend, but
thought it prudent to evacuate the city at the approach of his enemies.
He fled through Bengal towards the Deccan. The provinces which he had
so lately conquered fell again under the legitimate authority. When
Mohabet had settled the government of these districts, he marched
after the royal fugitive.
Though his fortunes were reduced to so low an ebb, the prince did not
despond. His mind was active, and these severe reverses only seemed to
animate him to new enterprises. He attached to his desperate fortunes
the Rajah of Ambere, who entertained some cause of enmity towards
Jehangire. Strengthened by the forces of this new ally, he reduced the
city of Boorhampoor; when the imperial army arriving, forced him to
raise the siege and take shelter in the mountains of Ballagat. In his
retreat he made an attempt upon a strong fortress on the frontiers of
Kandeish, where he was repulsed with considerable loss.
This completed his ruin. His nobles no longer followed him; and the
troops, under the sanction of their example, deserted his standard.
A thousand horse only remained. “His spirits sank within him; his
misfortunes oppressed him, his guilt and folly were always present to
his mind. Sickness was added to his other miseries. He was hunted like
a wild beast from place to place; all mankind were his enemies--he was
their foe. Where he thought he could not overcome, he fled; he spread
devastation through places where he could prevail. He was, however,
tired of rapine. Worn down by contention and hostility, he wrote
letters of compunction to his father: he enlarged on his own guilt,--he
even added, if possible, to his own wretchedness and misfortune.
Jehangire was often full of affection--he was always weak: and he was
shocked at the miserable condition of a son whom he had once loved; his
tears fell upon the part of that son’s letter which mentioned guilt,
and his crimes vanished from memory.
“In the midst of this returning softness, Jehangire was not altogether
void of policy. He wrote to his son, that if he would give orders to
the governors of Rhotas, of Azere, and other places which were still
held out in his name, to deliver up their forts, and send his three
sons, Dara, Aurungzebe, and Murad, to court, he would be forgiven for
his past crimes. Churrum embraced the offer with joy; he delivered up
the forts and sent his children to Agra. He, however, found various
pretences for not appearing in person at court. He alleged that he
was ashamed to see a father whom he had so much injured; but he was
actually afraid of the machinations of the Sultana. He made excursions,
under a pretence of pleasure, through all parts of the empire, attended
by five hundred horse. He was sometimes heard of at Ajmere, sometimes
at Tatta on the Indus, and again in the Deccan.”[37] Such was the
termination of this formidable rebellion, the suppression of which
Jehangire entirely owed to the vigilance and foresight of his Empress,
Noor Jehan. This remarkable woman was ever conspicuous amid the great
stir of the times; and in every action of her life she displayed that
predominancy of mind which had distinguished her even before her
exaltation to the imperial sceptre, which she may be said to have
wielded,--for though it appeared in the hand of her husband, she gave
strength to the grasp by which he held it, and imparted stability to
his throne.