This apparent self-abnegation was probably due to the universal respect enjoyed by the house of Chaghatāy as descendants of Chingiz, and to the associations which clustered round their name. Be this as it may, it is certain that Tīmūr was content with the absolute power won by his genius, and scorned the sounding style of emperor. That his rule made for the happiness of the peoples who owned his sway is evidenced by the hold which his personality had, and still retains, on the fickle population of Central Asia. “The love and attachment of the army to Tīmūr,” writes Wolff,[408] “was so great and so unlimited that they would forego plunder in time of need if ordered by him; and the subjection to him was so blind and unconditional that it would only have cost him an order to cause himself to be proclaimed not only as emperor, but even as Prophet of the Tartars. He endeavoured to soften the inclination to cruelty of his soldiers, composed of so many nations, by poets and learned men, by musicians and _sufis_, who came in swarms to the army and wandered with him through Asia.”[409] Under his enlightened rule Samarkand became the centre of a great and brilliant court, and was embellished with palaces, mosques, and colleges which extort the admiration of those who view them in their decay. [Illustration: DERVISHES OF THE NAKSHABANDI ORDER] It is the hard fate of a conqueror that he can never pause in his onward progress. The fierce passions let loose by war can be assuaged only by their repeated exercise; and Tīmūr’s hordes were ever clamouring to be led to fresh victories. Thus, when he had restored peace and prosperity to Central Asia, he set out on a triumphant march which threatened to include the whole inhabited world. In A.H. 793 (1390) Persia and the Caucasus, that halting-place in the migration of human masses westwards, were overrun by his armies. Then, in A.H. 798 (1395), he attacked the Kipchāks, a Mongolian tribe firmly settled in South-Eastern Russia and the lower Volga, which for the first time in history were united under their great chief, Tokhtamish Khān. Long and desperate was the struggle between the rivals, but it ended in Tīmūr’s triumph. His eyes now turned to India, whose fabulous wealth had attracted other adventurers such as he. The Panjāb and the whole Gangetic Delta fell an easy prey to his legions; and in A.H. 801 (1398) he returned to Samarkand laden with spoils. The Egyptian dynasty established in Syria and the Turkish lords of Asia Minor alone retained their independence. Tīmūr stormed Damascus and broke the Mamlūk power. Then, on the field of Angora, A.H. 805 (1402), he utterly defeated the Sultan Bāyazīd I., a conqueror of a renown only second to his own. Constantinople and the empire of the East lay at his mercy. Happily for European civilisation, his darling Samarkand attracted the war-spent conqueror. He returned thither in triumph, and three years later died at Otrār, while on his way to subdue China, A.H. 807