_There is no violence or injury of fortune that I have not
experienced;
This broken heart has endured them all. Alas! is there one left
that I have not encountered_?
For about a week we continued pressing down the snow without being able
to advance more than two or three miles. I myself assisted in trampling
down the snow. Every step we sank up to the middle or the breast, but we
still went on, trampling it down. As the strength of the person who went
first was generally exhausted after he had advanced a few paces, he
stood still, while another took his place. The ten, fifteen, or twenty
people who worked in trampling down the snow, next succeeded in dragging
on a horse without a rider. Drawing this horse aside, we brought on
another, and in this way ten, fifteen, or twenty of us contrived to
bring forward the horses of all our number. The rest of the troops, even
our best men, advanced along the road that had been beaten for them,
hanging their heads. This was no time for plaguing them or employing
authority. Every man who possesses spirit or emulation hastens to such
works of himself. Continuing to advance by a track which we beat in the
snow in this manner, we reached a cave at the foot of the Zirrin pass.
That day the storm of wind was dreadful. The snow fell in such
quantities that we all expected to meet death together. The cave seemed
to be small. I took a hoe and made for myself at the mouth of the cave a
resting-place about the size of a prayer-carpet. I dug down in the snow
as deep as my breast, and yet did not reach the ground. This hole
afforded me some shelter from the wind, and I sat down in it. Some
desired me to go into the cavern, but I would not go. I felt that for me
to be in a warm dwelling, while my men were in the, midst of snow and
drift,--for me to be within, enjoying sleep and ease, while my followers
were in trouble and distress,--would be inconsistent with what I owed
them, and a deviation from that society in suffering which was their
due. I continued, therefore, to sit in the drift.
_Ambition admits not of inaction;
The world is his who exerts himself;
In wisdom's eye, every condition
May find repose save royalty alone._
By leadership like this, the descendant of Tamerlane became the ruler of
Kabul. He celebrates its charms in verse:--
_Its verdure and flowers render Kabul, in spring, a heaven._--
but this kingdom was too small for a man of Baber's stamp. He used it as
a stepping-stone to the conquest of India (1526).
_Return a hundred thanks, O Baber! for the bounty of the merciful God
Has given you Sind, Hind, and numerous kingdoms;
If, unable to stand the heat, you long for cold,
You have only to recollect the frost and cold of Ghazni._
In spite of these verses, Baber did not love India, and his monarchy was
an exile to him. Let the last extract from his memoirs be a part of a
letter written in 1529 to an old and trusted friend in Kabul. It is an
outpouring of the griefs of his inmost heart to his friend. He says:--
My solicitude to visit my western dominions (Kabul) is
boundless and great beyond expression. I trust in Almighty
Allah that the time is near at hand when everything will be
completely settled in this country. As soon as matters are
brought to that state, I shall, with the permission of Allah,
set out for your quarters without a moment's delay. How is it
possible that the delights of those lands should ever be
erased from the heart? How is it possible to forget the
delicious melons and grapes of that pleasant region? They
very recently brought me a single muskmelon from Kabul. While
cutting it up, I felt myself affected with a strong feeling
of loneliness and a sense of my exile from my native country,
and I could not help shedding tears. [He gives long
instructions on the military and political matters to be
attended to, and continues without a break:--] At the
southwest of Besteh I formed a plantation of trees; and as
the prospect from it was very fine, I called it Nazergah [the
view]. You must there plant some beautiful trees, and all
around sow beautiful and sweet-smelling flowers and shrubs.
[And he goes straight on:--] Syed Kasim will accompany the
artillery. [After more details of the government he quotes
fondly a little trivial incident of former days and friends,
and says:--] Do not think amiss of me for deviating into
The 'Memoirs' of Baber deserve a place beside the writings of
the greatest of generals and conquerors. He is not unworthy
to be classed with Caesar as a general and as a man of
letters. His character was more human, more frank, more
lovable, more ardent. His fellow in our western world is not
Caesar, but Henri IV. of France and Navarre.
[Illustration: Signature: Edward S. Holden]