Читать книгу The Handy Military History Answer Book - Samuel Willard Crompton - Страница 11
ОглавлениеWhat is meant by “The World Island”?
Halford MacKinder (1861–1947), a British geographer and historian, coined the term in his essay “The Geographical Pivot of History,” delivered to the Royal Geographical Society in 1904. By “The World Island,” MacKinder was referencing the great Eurasian landmass which runs from the west side of the Pacific Ocean to the eastern edge of the Atlantic. To MacKinder, it was apparent that The World Island was key to military and strategic dominance of the globe. He rightly pointed out that the Eurasian landmass was far larger than either Africa on its own or the two Americas jointed together. In more recent times, the historian Jared Diamond has proposed something similar, pointing out that both trade and people migrated more naturally across the Eurasian land-mass—much of which is parallel in latitude to North, South, and Central America.
MacKinder’s thesis was studied by many people over the next forty years; even Adolf Hitler appears to have been influenced by it. Hitler, however, reduced a complicated, even fascinating, thesis to a short lesson in the geopolitics of his region. To Hitler, it was apparent that he who controlled the Eurasian heartland—roughly defined as the lands between Poland and the Urals—would also control the globe.
How strong, or weak, did the empires look around the year 600?
The Western Roman Empire was no more, and the Chinese Han Empire had fallen, only to be replaced by the Tang dynasty. Africa had numerous peoples and kingdoms, but none of them were strong enough to speak to the needs of that continent, much less the Middle East and beyond. About the only viable empire at that moment was the Byzantine, which had been established 300 years earlier.
The Byzantines—they called themselves “Romans”—were well aware of being the only centripetal force in their world, but they had a great foe in the Parthians, who had replaced the Persians a few centuries earlier. The Byzantines and Parthians fought many battles and wars, with the former finally gaining an ascendancy under the Emperor Heraclius in the 620s. Just as he secured military success in the Middle East, Heraclius received a rather threatening message from the Arabian Peninsula. A man named Mohammed, who claimed to be the Prophet of God, urged Heraclius to abandon Christianity and to serve Allah. What Heraclius thought of this message is unknown, but his subjects and his descendants would wrestle with this force for a very long time.
Which one person—more than any other—perceived the value of holding the heartland of Asia as the way to dominating the World Island?
This, beyond doubt, was Genghis Khan. When we speak or write of great military leaders, Genghis is among the top five of anyone’s list, but when we examine what he accomplished with the rather crude means and methods of his time, it is tempting to say that he truly was the greatest military leader in human history and one heck of a strategist as well.
What was his boyhood like?
We call him Genghis Khan, meaning “Great Ruler” or “Universal Emperor,” but his birth name was Temujin, and he came from a family of minor nobles within the Mongol tribe. His parents betrothed him to Borte, a girl from a family higher up the social ladder, but both he and she underwent enormous trials before their wedding. Genghis’ father died when the boy was seven, and he had to struggle for many years, seeking the patronage of various tribal leaders. There was a heartrending period in which his mother and younger brothers practically starved, but Genghis survived these trials and took vengeance of all his enemies over time.
Genghis was, indeed, as cruel and vengeful as he sounds, but he also possessed tremendous talent, both social and military. While he may have lacked charm, he had enormous powers of persuasion, and he had the patience to wait to achieve his objective. By about the year 1195 he turned against his major sponsor, and after defeating him in battle, Genghis became leader of the Kerait subgroup of Mongols. From there, Genghis went from strength to strength, acquiring more peoples and groups as time went on.
Did Genghis know that he was destined for greatness?
He was a rather practical person, and when asked that very question, he replied that he knew he had been chosen by “the Sky” (as Mongols referred to the divine) when, as a boy of sixteen, he escaped an ambush by almost fifteen men and ended up killing or capturing them all. From that moment forward, he experienced little to no doubt.
Numerous victories came in his early forties, and in the summer of 1206—the year that Mongols called “Year of the Leopard”—Genghis was chosen as Great Khan or Great Leader of all the Mongol tribes. This was a heady achievement for anyone, but to Genghis it was but the enormous first step in his quest for world dominance.
Do we know what Genghis looked like?
We really don’t. We have as many as a dozen eyewitness reports, but they differ from each other to such a degree that it is difficult to reach a consensus. One of the few things on which most accounts agree is that he was neither tall nor short and that his face was deeply marked, perhaps because of the many deprivations he experienced in youth.
Was Genghis ever beaten in battle?
By our Western, standard of military technique, Genghis was beaten on numerous occasions, meaning that he ended up yielding the battlefield to his opponent. To him, a man of the great Eurasian steppe, this meant next to nothing. The enormous sea of grass, as many people call it, was too large for any person or army to occupy; what mattered was winning the final battle and putting one’s enemies to the sword. And at these tasks, Genghis was unparalleled.
Which enemy, or neighbor, did he turn against first?
China was, at that time, divided in three sections: the Xi Xia in the northwest, the Chin in the northeast and center, and the Song Empire in the south. Had these three sections been fully unified, there was no way Genghis, or any other power, could ever have defeated them, but the social and political divisions opened the way to Mongol conquest. One should not minimize the difficulties involved, however.
A statue of Genghis Khan stands by his mausoleum in Ordos, China.
Genghis had once been an ally of the Xi Xia Empire, but in 1211 he turned on that section of China, and he may have been one of the first of all military leaders to ride through the Great Wall (whether he had to fight his way past a Chinese garrison is not known). The civilians of Xi Xia fought fiercely, and Genghis became progressively more brutal during this conquest. He captured Zanadu—which we today know as Beijing—in 1215.
Were the Mongol slaughters compressive?
Noncombatants were usually spared, and Genghis had enough of a hold on his warriors to ensure this, but if a city or fortified place held out too long—in the eyes of the Mongols—then it was subjected to a terrible sack, and everyone’s lives were forfeit. Genghis had an uncanny sense of knowing when to use mercy as a tool and when to withhold it; as a result, many towns and cities capitulated immediately upon his arrival. At the same time, the Mongols increased their knowledge of urban warfare. They learned a great deal from the Chinese about gunpowder explosions and whirling mechanisms that released dozens, even scores, of darts. Whether they gained their knowledge of the counterweighted trebuchet from the Chinese or from the Middle East is difficult to say, but they soon became masters of its use.
Whom did Genghis turn on after the subjection of the Xi Xia?
He wanted to take a breather and consolidate his conquests, but the Muslim ruler of Khawramzeen infuriated him unnecessarily. Genghis sent emissaries and merchants to the capital of the Khawaramzeen; on the first occasion they were rebuffed, on their second visit many were killed. Genghis—who could not abide the breaking of an oath or guarantee—therefore prepared for war. Nearly three years passed before he crossed the Gobi Desert, but the size of his force—perhaps 150,000—indicated his resolve.
Where were the major battles of this campaign?
The first skirmish was fought in the open, and the Mongols won handily even though they were outnumbered. As a result, the emperor of the Khawramzeen moved well back from the frontier to a fortified city, and from that point on the war was one of sieges. Bukhara fell in 1219 and the glorious city of Samarkand—one of the truly great merchant cities of the ancient world—in 1220. Samarkand’s fall was followed by an enormous slaughter; one Muslim tourist passing by thirty years later counted almost twenty mounds of skulls, clearly packed by the Mongols after the sack.
Did this campaign have a religious aspect? Was Genghis against the Muslims?
Not to our knowledge. Genghis seems to have been completely convinced that “the Sky,” as he called his deity, was supreme and that nothing could stand against him. Genghis, therefore, was much more interested in spreading his own glory and increasing his own power, and there were times when he seemed rather like a god—or a devil—himself!
How large was the Mongol army at its peak?
Population statistics are lacking, but we think there were roughly one million Mongolians, of whom no more than 120,000 could be sent to war. Genghis, however, incorporated many other peoples into the growing empire, and he could—by 1219—perhaps send 200,000 men into battle. Far more important than the numbers was the terror he induced, however; Genghis proved an expert at spreading his ferocious reputation, and many people chose not to fight at all.
Many religious persons attempted to convert Genghis, and the same held true for his descendants. Virtually all of these efforts failed, because to the Mongolians it was patently obvious that the Sky was supreme and all other powers were lesser ones. The Mongol leaders, however, were skillful at listening to various religious leaders and acting as if they might convert.
Could Genghis have stopped at this point?
No. He had unleashed such vital energy that the movement could no longer be contained. He was the supreme leader, but his battle-hardened warriors would not have stayed in one place even had he commanded this. Instead, he put them to use in the pursuit of the fallen Khawramzeen emperor, who died of disease on an island in the Caspian Sea. Genghis then pursued what remained of the Khawramzeen forces into northern India, where they escaped just in time. Tradition has it that Genghis—observing the bold leap of a ravine by the son of the emperor on horseback—called out “Happy the man who has such a son!”
Genghis and his Mongols pursued this man into northern India and carried out many sieges, but the lands south of the Himalayan mountains were of less interest to Genghis than the northern countries. He, therefore, returned to Mongolia and began a series of attacks on the Xi Xia, which still existed, though in a weakened state.
To this point, how many people had been killed, captured, or just plain murdered by the Mongols?
The number must have been at least half a million, but it does not include those who were displaced, and that number may well have exceeded half a million. In truth, given their own population size, the Mongols disrupted, disturbed, or outright destroyed the lives of more people—on a pound for pound basis—than any people before or since.
Genghis’ initial probes into the Xi Xia and Chin empires revealed their relative weakness, but he knew these campaigns would be filled with sieges, which were not the Mongols’ preferred type of warfare. Genghis was now old—for a Mongol—and it would have behooved him to turn over control of the battles and sieges to any one of his four sons by Borte, his principal wife. He chose to lead from the front, however, and in the late summer of 1227, he died shortly after he fell from his horse.
How successful was Genghis in his lifetime? How much remained to be accomplished?
Given that he became supreme leader of the Mongols in 1206 and that he died in 1227, Genghis has to rank—on anyone’s list—among the most successful men of all human history. In those twenty-one years, he conquered more territory and felled more empires and kingdoms than any person before or since.
Who learned of whom first: Europe or the Mongols?
The Christian West heard its first stories of the Mongols in the 1230s, but these were fragmentary. The Mongols, on the other hand, once they learned of Europe, used their first-rate intelligence service to find out more about the West. By the time they entered Eastern Europe in 1238, the Mongols knew a great deal about medieval Christian society.
To the Mongols as a whole, however, it was evident that much still remained to be done. Southern China had not even been invaded, and the Muslim kingdoms and potentates in the Middle East were still untouched. The Mongols, at this point, knew little of Eastern or Western Europe, but their spies would eventually inform them that there was yet another area which could be conquered.
Who succeeded Genghis as leader of the Mongols?
Jochi, his eldest son, died in battle about the same time as Genghis, and the throne passed to Ogedai (ruled 1229–1241). He was never as well known—either to the conquered peoples or the Mongols themselves—as his father, but Ogedai seems to have been a clever and careful ruler. More than his father, he appreciated the need for consolidation, and he worked on this while maintaining a stately life in his tent city in Mongolia.
Meanwhile, Genghis’ grandson, Batu Khan (ruled 1227–1255)—a son of Jochi—carved out a nearly separate and independent kingdom in southern Russia. Batu may have been angry at the death of his father and the loss of dignity to his part of the Mongol dynasty; then, too, he may simply have seized an opportunity as it appeared. Tensions built between him and his uncle Ogedai, however, and there might well have been an armed clash had events not moved in another direction.
When did the Mongols first invade Europe?
They came in the winter of 1238, attacking what is now the heartland of Russia. The kingdoms and principalities they attacked were a mixture of Christian in religion and Scandinavian in descent, with numerous Viking names among the rulers.
Moscow—which was still but a village—was sacked in 1239, and the much more important capital of Kiev in 1240. By now it was apparent that the Mongolian ponies were much more adept than their Russian counterparts and could cover longer distances. The Mongols, too, had refined their techniques; they were almost as good at siege warfare as they were at fighting in the open. They, therefore, decided to press on, and in the winter of 1241–1242 they attacked Eastern Europe. Polish and Hungarian knights met them but were crushed at the Battle of Leignitz, and the Mongols moved on into Hungary. They reached what is now Budapest and were ready to cross the Danube a second time—in a northward direction this time—when they learned of the death of Ogedai Khan.
How did Ogedai die, and how was his successor chosen?
Ogedai died of natural causes, although excessive drink may have contributed to his demise. He had no natural successor, and the Mongols held a great camp meeting, or election, at which it was decided that the throne would pass to his younger brother Kuyuk (ruled 1246–1248). It is important to remember that when we say “throne” we mean it in the European sense, but to the Mongols it was a much more mobile thing: to them, the great leader was more like “master of the horses and master of the camps.”
Kuyuk’s reign was short but eventful. He received the first embassy from the West, sent by none other than Pope Innocent IV. Kuyuk’s reply is worth quoting here.
“You have said that supplication and prayer have been offered by you, that I might find a good entry into baptism. This prayer of thine I have not understood. Other words which thou hast sent me: ‘I am surprised that thou hast seized all the lands of the Magyar and the Christians. Tell us what fault theirs is.’ These words of thine I have also not understood. The eternal God has slain and annihilated these lands and peoples, because they have neither adhered to Chinghis Kgan, nor to the Khagan…. How could anybody seize or kill by his own power contrary to the command of God?”
Which nation—or people—was next on the Mongol list?
The Mongols had, by now, penetrated through the northern part of the Eurasian landmass and had found only the Southern Chinese empire—known as the Song—capable of withstanding them. They intended to take down the Song, but higher on the list were the Muslim states and kingdoms in the Middle East, with Baghdad at the very top of the list.
The Muslim Middle Eastern leaders understood their peril and sent numerous embassies to the tent city of Karakorum, which was the Mongol capital during the reigns of Kuyuk and then his younger brother, Mongke Khan (ruled 1251–1259). We know of these embassies because of another pair of Franciscan monks who went east, this time representing the Pope. Numerous religious debates were held, with the Franciscan friar speaking for Christianity against the Nestorian Christians and the Muslims. Mongke Khan listened to all but reached his own conclusion, saying that just as there were five fingers to the human hand, so had God created different ways for humans to reach, or commune with, him.
Could the Mongols have defeated all the major nations and conquered Western Europe?
One hesitates to be too bold, but this is one of the few times when something seems 99 percent likely. Yes. If they could take down the Russians, Poles, and Hungarians in such short order, the Mongols could surely have defeated the German, French, and English knights. Sections of Spain and Italy—shielded by mountain ranges—might have held out, but the broad heartland of Northern Europe would have been conquered.
Did any people really call themselves the Assassins?
No. Their name for themselves was in Arabic, and it referred to their status as dissenters from the mainstream of Islam. Over time, however, they became known as the Assassins to millions of other people.
The Assassins were major users of the drug hashish, which is where their nickname derived. By 1250, they were a major force in the Middle East. Ruling from a series of mountain castles in Syria and Iraq, they sent out small bands of highly skilled men who did, indeed, carry out assassinations. The reason the Mongols wanted to subdue them was for the prestige of eliminating such a powerful force.
A 1307 manuscript by the author Rashid ad-Din shows a Middle Eastern city under siege by the Mongols.
Who carried out the Mongol campaign against the Assassins?
Hulegu was a brother of Mongke Khan. In 1253, he began a very slow march to the west, arriving in the Middle East two years later. Hulegu pointedly avoided Baghdad because he wanted to take down the Assassins first. Several sieges ensued, with both sides using all sorts of creative weaponry. The Assassins employed trebuchets and flaming arrows; the Mongols promptly seized the trebuchets and used them in return. All the castles were taken and the Grand Master of the Assassins killed.
Hulegu then turned his attention on Baghdad. The caliph of that city resented the Mongol belief—often expressed—that they were the instruments of God. Baghdad held out for weeks, and when the Mongols entered, they carried out a truly hideous sack. Not only was the caliph killed—the Mongols placed him in blankets and shook him to death—but many thousands of people, civilians and combatants alike. During the entire Mongol rule, no city suffered a worse fate than Baghdad.
Could anyone defeat the Mongols?
Not when they were at their best. As long as they had faith in their leader and plenty of hay for their ponies, the Mongols were generally unbeatable. The Middle East did not provide a lot of fodder for the ponies, however, and in 1260 the Mongols received their first check (to call it a defeat would be going too far).
Did these Franciscan friars travel as great a distance as Marco Polo?
Father John del Carpine and Friar William of Rubruck arrived almost a half century before Marco Polo, and if the Mongols controlled all of China at that time, their travels would have been just as extensive. At the time, however, it was sufficient to reach the tent city of Karakorum. There, Friar William of Rubruck found a Parisian goldsmith who had been captured during the Mongol attack on Hungary and who was now in the service of Mongke Khan.
While at Karakorum, the Franciscan friars observed enormous military preparations. They rightly suspected that these were directed at the Muslim-controlled Middle East but did not know that the first place selected for destruction was the Kingdom of the Assassins, in present-day Syria and Iraq.
Moving south from Aleppo, which they captured, the Mongols passed by Jerusalem on their way to the Sinai Desert. Just before entering the Sinai, they met an army of Mamelukes, sent from Cairo.
Was there much difference between a Mameluke and a Mongol?
Ethnically, there was not very much. The Mamelukes had been in the Middle East for well over a century, however, and they had adopted many of the Western approaches to fighting. They were composed of a mixture of cavalry and infantry, and they were regarded as “slaves” of their sultan, to whom they had tremendous loyalty. In this, they were rather similar to the Mongols.
The Battle of Ain Jalut was a small thing when compared to many others. Roughly 20,000 men on each side jostled for a few days, each side attempting to get the upper hand through maneuver. When there were direct, head-on confrontations, the Mamelukes gave as good as they got. This, in itself, was rather astonishing, and the Mongols withdrew. The situation in 1260 was similar to that of 1242: in both cases, the Mongol leaders were preoccupied with concerns about who would rule at home—in Mongolia—as well as who would triumph in battle.
Who emerged triumphant in the struggle for the succession?
Mongke Khan died in 1258, at about the time Baghdad was sacked by his brother Hulegu. Mongke’s death set off a succession crisis that lasted for nearly five years. The youngest son in the family, Kublai, had the best claim to the throne, but many Mongols suspected he was not tough—or battle-ready—enough to fill the shoes of Mongke, Kuyuk, and Ogedai (no one ever compared any of these leaders to Genghis, who was rightly perceived as the founding father of them all).
Kublai proved better at warfare than anyone expected, however. He defeated his brother Ariq Boge several times, and by 1265 he was the undisputed leader of the Mongols. His uncle, Batu, had now died, and leadership of the Golden Horde—in southern Russia—was nominally in Kublai’s name. Kublai, however, made a clear decision to concentrate on the eastern end of the Mongol Empire. The heartland already belonged to the Mongols; neither the Europeans nor the Muslims posed any threat; and Kublai, therefore, decided to bring down the Song Dynasty in southern China. This proved much tougher than anyone expected.
Kublai Khan, a grandson of Genghis, was the founder of the Yuan Dynasty and ruled over much of present-day China, Korea, and Mongolia.
What was different about the Song Dynasty?
Genghis had, of course, defeated the Xi Xia and the Chin empires, but neither of these was the real heartland of China. Ethnic differences between these two northern peoples and the Song Dynasty led to an abundance of confidence on the part of the latter. Perhaps the northern Chinese had succumbed to the Mongols: the Southerners never would.
The people of the Song Empire resisted as stoutly as their rulers. The cities of southern China were far larger than anything the Mongols had ever encountered, and all manner of techniques and tricks were employed by both sides. As a result, the slaughter of the innocents increased in scale as well, and Kublai’s long, ten-year campaign to subdue the Song was filled with atrocities. Not until 1275 was the conquest complete.
Was Kublai the first member of his family to be Chinese?
He was, of course, ethnically as Mongolian as they come. But Kublai recognized, soon after the conquest of the Song, that the Chinese would never remain under the leadership of a monarch they perceived as foreign. He therefore became, in appearance, almost as Chinese as the Chinese themselves. This attempt at assimilation worked quite well for Kublai and his Chinese subjects; the Mongols, however, were displeased that their ruler—the grandson of Genghis—became a rather sedentary monarch, living in the cities of northern China during much of the calendar year.
Who provides us with our best “look” at Kublai?
This person is none other than Marco Polo (1252–1306), one of the best-known names from all of history. Though it has become fashionable to dismiss aspects of Marco Polo’s writing—and there is no doubt that he exaggerated—it is foolish to throw away the good parts. He spent a number of years in China and met Kublai many times.
“The personal appearance of the Great Khan, Lord of Lords,” Marco Polo wrote, “is such as I shall now tell you. He is of a good stature, neither tall nor short, but of a middle height. He has a becoming amount of flesh and is very shapely in all his limbs. His complexion is white and red, the eyes black and fine, the nose well formed and well set on.” Kublai was in middle age when he first met Marco Polo: the Khan later became corpulent. But he was, when Marco Polo arrived in northern China, the greatest king or lord that the world had ever known. Genghis and his generals had done much of the work, but Kublai enjoyed the peak of Mongol success.
How do we account for “missing” parts of Marco Polo’s work. He does not, for example, even mention the Great Wall of China?
This omission is indeed curious, but chances are good that Marco Polo never saw it. The Wall was already in disrepair when the Mongols invaded in 1211, and they had probably let it decay even further in the half century since. The modern Great Wall was mostly the work of the Ching dynasty in the seventeenth century.
How long did Marco Polo and his father and uncle remain in China?
Tradition has it that they departed in 1292 and were back in Venice by 1295. Their relatives did not recognize them at first, and the stories they told were so wild and fantastic that many people chose not to believe them. Marco Polo had a rare opportunity, however. Fighting for his native city of Venice, he was taken prisoner in a naval battle and thrown into a Genoese prison. There, he met a cellmate, Rustichello, who was an accomplished writer.
That Marco Polo and Rustichello exaggerated in their book is undisputed. If one chops a “zero” or two off each significant number, the truth begins to emerge, however. Of course, the Great Khan did not have 12,000 falconers, as Marco Polo declares, but he may well have had 1,200.
Meanwhile, what had Kublai accomplished?
Kublai was not the ruthless warrior his grandfather had been, but by 1280 he ruled over the largest and greatest empire the world had ever seen; at its height, the Mongol Empire was more than twice as large as imperial Rome. Equally impressive, Kublai was able to enforce Mongol law throughout the vast empire; it was said—perhaps in exaggeration—that an unmarried woman could travel over the Mongol roads in safety.
The Italian explorer Marco Polo wrote of his meetings with Kublai Khan and his travels in China, providing historians with a helpful—though sometimes exaggerated—view of Asia in the thirteenth century.
Kublai had achieved all this by consolidating the conquests of Genghis and Mongke. His only failure came in Japan.
Why was Japan able to keep the Mongols at bay?
The Mongols were still primarily horse-warriors; the very thought of traveling at sea filled them with some anxiety. When Japan would not acknowledge Mongol supremacy, Kublai ordered the Koreans, who were among his subject peoples, to build ships for an invasion of Japan.
In 1274, a Korean fleet brought perhaps 10,000 Mongols to Japan’s east coast. A storm blew up at sea, and the Mongols were quickly re-embarked. The Japanese marked the very spot where the Mongols had come ashore, and they built a massive sea wall so as to prepare for the next coming of their foes. When a much larger Korean fleet, carrying perhaps 20,000 troops, arrived in 1281, the Mongols encountered stiff Japanese resistance behind that sea wall. Given the Mongols’ ability at maneuver, this seems like a relatively easy obstacle for them to manage.
On land, that would certainly be the case. But the Mongols showed much less imagination when traveling at sea. While the Japanese dug in their heels to resist, the Mongols noticed yet another major storm on its way. They re-embarked and sailed away, never to return.
Was it a genuine typhoon that kept the Mongols away from Japan?
Historians believe so, and many of the Korean-built ships may have sunk on the way home. This was, in some ways, an equivalent to the Spanish Armada of 1588 (see chapter six), but Mongol histories—not surprisingly—made little of it. The Japanese, on the other hand, built it into their mythology, claiming that the weather had worked on their behalf and that a typhoon would rescue them if anyone else attempted to invade. For this reason, the word kamikaze (meaning “divine wind”) became part of the Japanese belief system, as the Americans discovered when they invaded the Philippines in 1944.
Who was Tamerlane, and how did he get that name?
He was born in Central Asia, not far from the city of Samarkand, around the year 1336. Due to a wound he received early in life, Timur walked with a limp, and a corruption of his Turkic name became known in the West as Tamerlane: “Timur the Lame.” His career was anything but lame, however.
Timur grew up at a time when the great Mongol kingdoms and subkingdoms of Central Asia were in disarray. About the only exception to the rule was the Golden Horde, based out of the city of Sarai on the Volga River. The descendants of Jochi and Batu still ruled the Golden Horde, and it controlled much of what we now label as European Russia, or Russia east of the Ural Mountains. Timur left no diary—he could neither read nor write—but we suspect that from his earliest days he aspired to become the new Great Khan, the one who would restore the Mongols and Turks to their former glory.
A sixteenth-century illustration shows Tamerlane besieging the city of Urganj (now in Turkmenistan).
Was there—and is there—much difference between a Mongol and a Turk?
In the time of Genghis, and even in that of Tamerlane, there was little racial or ethnic difference: the two peoples were cousins. They have spent enough time out of each other’s company, however, that today we would assert there is a considerable difference.
What was the richest city of Central Asia?
It was Samarkand, located southeast of the Aral Sea and directly west of the Tien Shan Desert, the traditional route to China. To say that Samarkand was a merchant city is not going far enough; Samarkand was the great merchant city along what we call the Silk Road, extending from western China to the Mediterranean Sea. Tamerlane understood the importance of trade, and during his rule he made Samarkand much more beautiful, but he was—from his teenage years—devoted to war.
Tamerlane started life as the eldest son of a chief of the far-flung Barlas tribe. This did not mean he was destined for leadership, however; like Genghis Khan—whom he clearly admired and sought to emulate—Tamerlane had to ascend, rung by rung. He started life as a small-time brigand, stealing sheep (the same can be said for many men who later became great leaders), and worked his way up to lead a small army of nomadic people in the Samarkand region. Very likely, he persuaded them to follow him by saying he would lead them as Genghis had previously done, but Tamerlane had to appeal to a more mixed audience: he led Mongols, Turks, Iranians, and all sorts of half-breeds.
Was Tamerlane’s style of warfare different from that of his competitors in Central Asia?
Not at the outset. Tamerlane seemed on his way to becoming one of the major leaders of Central Asia, but not the predominant one. It was only when he began fighting against the Mongols to the north—the so-called Golden Horde—that he demonstrated the savagery that made him feared throughout the world. We do not really know how many mounds of skulls were created during his many conquests, but at least one neutral witness—who traveled to the region fifty years later—testified that he saw at least thirty piles of skulls outside one central Asian city.
How can one person inflict so much destruction, yet remain safe and secure himself?
Tamerlane scorned safety: throughout life, he prized the hunt and warfare more than rest and ease. Even during the few times that he was at rest, he engaged in heated discussions, especially on theological matters, and the modern-day reader is struck by Tamerlane’s intelligence. He was a child of the Eurasian steppe, an unlettered nomad, but he understood great matters of war and peace, life and death, very well. This was testified to by an ambassador who came all the way from Spain to Samarkand shortly before Tamerlane’s death.
But as to physical danger, Tamerlane commanded such respect, veneration even, from his men that it was unlikely anyone could get close enough to thrust a sword or dagger in his direction. He was a pious Muslim, who added the words “Timur, servant of God” to every letter that was sent by his secretaries. The combination of ferocious military skill and devout religious practice made him feared by all.
What happened to the Golden Horde?
For more than a century and a half, the Mongol leaders of the Golden Horde had lived magnificent lives, split between the rigors of the trail and their wonderful city of Sarai on the lower Volga River. It was their misfortune that Toktamish—who had known Tamerlane from his earliest days—became their leader around the year 1380. Whether Toktamish betrayed Tamerlane or the other way around will forever remain in doubt; all that is known is that the two men hated and feared each other.
Tamerlane was in the western part of his domain when Toktamish invaded and briefly occupied the city of Samarkand. Toktamish departed as Tamerlane returned, and perhaps he believed that would be all. Tamerlane pursued him, however, over a distance of 800 miles, and he finally sacked the city of Sarai. For more than a century, Sarai and Samarkand had been rivals in the merchant trade: Tamerlane put an end to that.
Could Tamerlane have taken and sacked Moscow?
He was within 250 miles, and to him that was a relatively short distance. The people of Moscow implored God to save them from the terrible Turks. But Tamerlane had no special interest in Moscow. Its 50,000 people would not have been any benefit to his Central Asian-based empire, and he, therefore, headed for home.
Is Tamerlane, then, one of the few leaders ever to invade Russia and succeed?
Yes. King Charles XII of Sweden failed in 1709, Napoleon failed in 1812, and Hitler failed in the truest sense of that word during World War II. About the only successful invasions of Russia have come from the south and the east, and most have been led either by Mongols or Turks.
The Golden Horde never recovered. Though some descendants of Jochi and Batu continued to call themselves “Khan” for some generations, there was no more reality to the claim. This was not the only kingdom or principality that Tamerlane would destroy, however.
How did Tamerlane find himself in India?
Tamerlane grew up within sight of some of the northernmost mountains of Afghanistan, and he had great curiosity about what lay beyond. In 1398, he brought an immense army, of perhaps 150,000, over the mountains and into northwest India. He encountered little opposition, and, from a religious point of view, he had little reason to fight because so many of those he encountered were fellow Muslims. But when he reached the city of Delhi, capital of the sultanate of the same name, a series of misunderstandings led to a terrible sack.
Whether the people of Delhi disrespected a banner of truce or some of Tamerlane’s men stole some sheep and then blamed it on their foes is not certain; what we can say is that Delhi was captured and put to the worst sack of Tamerlane’s reign. Mounds of skulls were placed near the city walls, and the death toll may have been as much as 100,000. Tamerlane never commented publicly on the matter, but there are indications that he regretted it.
Was there any force on earth that could stop, or defeat,Tamerlane?
At his peak, no. When Tamerlane set out on campaign, which was most of the time, he marched with a virtual city of soldiers, cavalrymen, and camp followers. These people lived off the land and did so in a rather grand style. They, therefore, destroyed their enemies’ sustenance even before meeting them in battle, and once battle was joined, Tamerlane’s incredible skill and ruthlessness always prevailed.
The best example of this came in 1402, when the Ottoman Turkish sultan Bayezid, known as “Bayezid the Thunderbolt,” challenged Tamerlane. The Ottoman Turks were cousins to Tamerlane’s people, but that did not matter; leadership of the Turkic-Mongol world was at stake. Tamerlane marched west and inflicted a terrible defeat on Bayezid at the Battle of Ankara, where the capital of modern-day Turkey is located. Tamerlane’s army captured Bayezid; Tamerlane kept him a prisoner until Bayezid died, a year later. Whether Tamerlane actually caged Bayezid or made him perform degrading tasks is unknown, but the rivalry between the two men has been fodder for poets and dramatists for centuries.
The Bibi-Khanym Mosque in Samarkand, Uzbekistan, is one of the few tangible legacies built by the conqueror Tamerlane. Completed a year before his death in 1405, it is named after his wife.
What did Western Christians think of Tamerlane?
To them, he was the bogeyman, the enemy that might appear at any time but would do so under the cover of night. Europeans knew more about Tamerlane than they ever did about Genghis Khan, and he was, in some ways, more frightful to them. Numerous European monarchs sent letters to Tamerlane, assuring him of their friendship. They were careful to observe his protocol, which meant that the letters were addressed to the “Lord of Asia.”
How old was Tamerlane when he defeated Bayezid?
He was about sixty-five and in poor health. Two years later, when he set out for his intended conquest of China, Tamerlane was so lame that he had to be carried in a litter. No one doubted he would accomplish his goal, however, until he died of natural causes in February 1405.
Tamerlane is still, even in our time, the destroyer par excellance. Not even Genghis Khan killed so many people or ruined so many cities. A major difference between the two is that Genghis left a viable legacy to be enjoyed by his sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons, while Tamerlane left almost nothing. His army broke up soon after his death, and what he called his empire was revealed to be held together by his personality and nothing else. One of the few exceptions to the general rule is the magnificent mosque in Samarkand, built soon after his return from India. Tamerlane is buried there.
When was his body exhumed?
A legend long existed that if the grave of Tamerlane was ever disturbed, an even greater menace than him would come to destroy the world. That was enough to keep away most grave robbers, and it was not until the first half of 1941, when a serious, modern-day scientific team arrived in Samarkand, that Tamerlane’s body was exhumed. Led by a Russian scholar, the team recovered the body and was able—based on forensics—to recreate Tamerlane’s face. Many of the particulars conform closely to the chronicles. Tamerlane was tall, lean, and exceptionally fit. His face was a mixture of intelligence and ferocity, much as we might imagine. The single biggest coincidence, however, was that the German invasion of the Soviet Union—a terrible conflict that claimed more than twenty million lives—began on the very day—June 22, 1941—that Tamerlane’s body was exhumed.
