BABA.R.*

THE story of Bibar's life is more wonderful, more brilliantly coloured than the Arabian Nights, and it loses little of its excitement in Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole's monograph. The

descendant of Tamerlane, the grandfather of Akbar, %bar is a link between the savage past and the Indian Empire as it was known to our Elizabethans. Moreover, he proves, does this soldier of fortune, this lofty monarch, this accom- plished poet, that the Orient of the fifteenth century was not one whit inferior to the West in arms, arts, or philosophy.

Born in 1483, he succeeded to his father's throne at the age of eleven. But despite his childish years he was already a soldier and a king. No sooner, in fact, did he hear of his father's death, than he set spurs to his horse that he might forestall the pretenders who (he knew) were on their way to Andijin. His promptitude was rewarded ; he seized the citadel without difficulty; and straightway dreamed of realising his loftiest ambition, which was to seat himself at Samarkand on the throne of Tamerlane. Again and again he fought for his ideal ; again and again, he was defeated or betrayed; and though he acquired a mighty empire for himself, it was not at Samarkand that he was destined to set up his throne. But defeat for him was ever an excuse for literature and repose. At the loss of a kingdom, he would flee to the bills, where he lived among the hunters, listened to the immemorial legends, and once again proved his devotion to the Muses.

Yet empire was as necessary to him as literature, and if his own kingdom was taken away, he must seize another. So that when Farghina and Samarkand were no longer his, he led an expedition against Kabul, which opened its gates at his approach, and where at last the wandering Babar found a throne both splendid and secure. His own description of Kabul proves his satisfaction. The fruit, the trees, the birds all delighted him, and it is difficult to detect the soldier of fortune in this scrupulous observer of Nature :—

"%bar," says Mr. Lane-Poole, "knows every animal, bird, and flower ; he counts thirty-three species of tulips in one place, and can tell where the rarest sort is found ; he knows the habits of bird and beast, and when and how they are to be caught ; he tells how the birds cannot fly over the Hindi' Kush passes in stormy weather, and are thus taken in thousands ; and he knows how to lasso herons with a hook at the end of a line, and how to make the fish intoxicated and catch them in shoals. He can tell where the best grass for horses grows, and which pastures are free from mosquitos. One of his favourite spots was the 'Garden of Fidelity,' where orange-trees and pomegranates clustered round a lake, and the whole earth was soft with clover= the very eye of beauty.' Another was the Fountain of the Three Friends, where three kinds of trees grew, planes, oaks, and the flowering arghwitn. Ba,har walled the fountain round, and made a seat, for when the arghtucin flowers are in bloom, the yellow mingling with the rod, I know no place on earth to compare with it."

This passage displays, as well as any other, Baar's many interests; yet not even the song of birds and the scent of

flowers dulled the imperious joy of conquest.

Alexander is the hero whom he most resembles, and it was a proper whim of fate which drove him to attack the same enterprise which tempted the Macedonian. From Kabul, in brief, Bihar set out upon the conquest of

India, and his march eastwards was a march of triumph. For the first time India was attacked with Feringi (or European) artillery, and it is not surprising that

Bihar met with little resistance. Of what use were bows and arrows even against the primitive matchlocks? Nor does Bihar seem to have used his victory with moderation.

Mercy was not the fashion of his time or race. As Mr. Lane. Poolesays, the savage peeps out in spite of his generous and noble character. "He cut off the heads of the chiefs, and sent them to Kabul as trophies of victory ; a pyramid of skulls was built near the ill-fated fortress." But it is idle to blame Bihar for following the universal practice

• Balers of Tndia: Bdbar. By Stanley Lane-Poole. Oxford : at the Clarendon Press. [2a. 6d.]

of his time and country ; nor is his savagery in the field a blot upon his humane and amiable temper. A worse vice, however, was encroaching upon him,—the vice of drunkenness, which he shared with the Alexander of whom he might have been a reincarnation. In his youth he had religiously observed his vow of abstinence ; he had resisted all the temptations thrown in his path at Herat. But while he was subduing India, he renounced his vow, and became as violent in his orgies as in his courage.

Nor does he spare himself in his admirable Memoirs. He sets all his sins down with the perfect candour and self-know- ledge of Pepys. When once he had taken to wine he found no excuse too slight for a glass. "He sees a lovely view —and has a drinking party ; or the crops were uncommonly

fine—another bout ; had an early cup by Kabil's tomb;'

at noon-day prayers—a drinking party ; a tribute offering arrives, he takes his Litany lozenge; he cuts his hair —a bout ensues." And so on ; he marks his days and nights with drink, and in a few months seems to have become a confirmed drunkard. But he would permit nothing unseemly in these orgies. If a man became boisterous with "the turbulent mirth of wine," that man was speedily put out of the company. Nor would he induce the unwilling to share his vice, nor would he bring wine to a house that knew it not. He intended, no doubt, that his drunkenness should be an experiment. "As I meant," said he, "to abstain from wine at the age of forty, and as I now wanted somewhat less than a year of that age, I drank wine most copiously." But his good intention was frustrated, and great as he was both in kingship and martial prowess, a drunkard he seems to have remained until the end.

Yet if he wasted his years with wine and song, his armies prospered, and his Empire waxed. And all the while he war writing his immortal Memoirs, and remembering even in the clash of arms the charm of letters. He invented a style of verse; he wrote an essay on Turkish prosody; he excelled in music and other arts. Though he was by profession a soldier, he esteemed men by their talents as highly as by their bravery. Concerning a competent judge of poetry he says: "He had such a fist that he never struck a man but he felled him." He blames a warrior in that "he never read, and though a townsman he was unlettered and unrefined." Again we are reminded of Alexander, who doubtless profited by the teaching of Aristotle, and who bade "spare the house of Pindarus, when temple and tower went to the ground." But in two respects he was Alexander's superior; he founded an imperial line, and be died a death of heroic self-sacrifice. His son, whom he loved devotedly, lay dying of fever. The doctors declared that nothing could save him but a supreme sacrifice to God. Mbar at once resolved to lay down his life for his son. The wise men persuaded him to offer instead the great diamond of the Rajas. "Is there any stone," said he, "that can be weighed against my son ? " So he walked gravely round the sick man thrice, saying, "On me be alj that thou art suffering." At last he prevailed. "At that moment I felt myself quite borne down, whilst he became buoyant and well. He arose in complete health, and I —I sank down in extreme illness. I called the chief men of the empire and the persons of greatest influence, and putting their hands in Humaytin's in token of investiture, I solemnly proclaimed him my successor, and assigned him the throne." Thus BAbar finished a stormy life by a noble end. The Empire, which he had established, was yet more gloriously embellished by his grandson Akbar. And to-day he lies in the garden on the hill at Kabul—in the garden that he loved—" the sweetest spot," he called it, "of the neighbourhood," and near his grave, fragrant with flowers, is still heard the music of running water.