“The chief excellency of Hindustán is, that it is a large country, and has abundance of gold and silver. The climate during the rains is very pleasant. On some days it rains ten, fifteen, and even twenty times. During the rainy season, inun­dations come pouring down all at once, and form rivers, even in places where, at other times, there is no water. While the rains continue on the ground, the air is singularly delightful—insomuch that nothing can surpass its soft and agreeable temperature. Its defect is, that the air is rather moist and damp. During the rainy season you cannot shoot, even with the bow of our country, and it becomes quite useless. Nor is it the bow alone that becomes useless; the coats of mail, books, clothes, and furniture, all feel the bad effects of the moisture. Their houses, too, suffer from not being substantially built. There is pleasant enough weather in the winter and summer, as well as in the rainy season; but then the north wind always blows, and there is an excessive quantity of earth and dust flying about. When the rains are at hand, this wind blows five or six times with excessive violence, and such a quantity of dust flies about that you cannot see one another. They call this an ándhí. It gets warm during Taurus and Gemini, but not so warm as to become intolerable. The heat cannot be compared to the heats of Balkh and Kandahár. It is not above half so warm as in these places. Another con­venience of Hindustán is, that the workmen of every profession and trade are innumerable, and without end. For any work or any employment, there is always a set ready, to whom the same employment and trade have descended from father to son for ages. In the Zafar-náma of Mulla Sharífu-d dín 'Alí Yazdí, it is mentioned as a surprising fact, that when Tímúr Beg was building the Sangín (or stone) mosque, there were stone-cutters of Azarbáíjan, Fárs, Hindustán, and other countries, to the number of 200, working every day on the mosque. In Ágra alone, and of stone-cutters belonging to that place only, I every day employed on my palaces 680 persons; and in Ágra, Síkrí, Bayána, Dhúlpúr, Gwálior, and Koel, there were every day em­ployed on my works 1491 stone-cutters. In the same way, men of every trade and occupation are numberless, and without stint in Hindustán.

“The countries from Bahrah to Bihár, which are now under my dominion, yield a revenue of fifty-two krors, as will appear from the particular and detailed statement. Of this amount, parganas to the value of eight or nine krors are in the possession of some Ráís and Rájás, who from old times have been submis­sive, and have received these parganas for the purpose of confirming them in their obedience.”

It is not only in narrative and statistical details that the work excels—it presents also what is so exceedingly rare in Asiatic history, the characters of his countrymen and contempo­raries—their appearance, manners, dress, pursuits, tastes, habits, and actions, and with such minuteness and reality, that they seem to form part of our acquaintance, and to live amongst us as one of ourselves.

But the great charm of the work is in the character of the author, whom we find, after all the trials of a long life, retaining the same kind and affectionate heart, and the same easy and sociable temper with which he set out on his career, and in whom the possession of power and grandeur had neither blunted the delicacy of his taste, nor diminished his sensibility to the enjoyment of nature and imagination.

“It is a relief,” says his translator, “in the midst of the pompous coldness of Asiatic history, to find a king who can weep for days, and tell us that he wept for the playmate of his boyhood.” He speaks with as much interest of his mother and female relations as if he had never quitted their fireside; and his friends make almost as great a figure in the personal part of his narrative as he does himself. He repeats their sayings, records their accidents and illnesses, relates their adventures, and some­times jokes on their eccentricities.

After a letter on the affairs of his government to his most confidential counsellor Khwája Kílán (then at Kábul), he tells him little anecdotes of their common acquaintances, which he thinks will amuse him, and adds, “For God's sake, excuse all these fooleries, and do not think the worse of me for them.” He endeavours afterwards to persuade Khwája Kílán to leave off wine, as he had done; and says, in substance, “Drinking was a very pleasant thing with our old friends and companions; but now that you have only Shír Ahmad and Haidar Kúli to take your wine with, it can be no great sacrifice to leave it off.” In the same letter, he says how much he envies his friend his residence at Kábul, and adds, “They very recently brought me a single musk-melon; 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 while I was eating it.”

Bábar was a constant and jovial toper. Many a drinking party is recorded in his Memoirs, with at least as much interest as his battles or negociations; and unsuitable as they are to his station, they are not the least agreeable scenes in his history. The per­fect ease and familiarity among the company makes one forget the prince in the man; and the temptations that generally lead to those excesses—a shady wood, a hill with a fine prospect, or the idleness of a boat floating down a river; together with the amusements with which they are accompanied, extemporary verses, recitations in Turkí and Persian, with sometimes a song, and often a contest of repartee—greatly diminish the coarseness that might attach to such scenes of dissipation. Even in the middle of a harassing and desultory campaign, there is no in­termission of this excessive jollity, though it sometimes puts the parties into jeopardy; for example:

“We continued at this place drinking till the sun was on the decline, when we set out. Those who had been of the party were completely drunk. Saiyid Kásim was so drunk that two of his servants were obliged to put him on horseback, and brought him to the camp with great difficulty. Dost Muhammad Bákir was so far gone, that Amín Muhammad Tarkhán, Masti Chihrah, and those who were along with him, were unable, with all their exertions, to get him on horseback. They poured a great quantity of water over him, but all to no purpose. At this moment a body of Afgháns appeared in sight. Amín Muhammad Tarkhán, being very drunk, gravely gave it as his opinion, that rather than leave him in the condition in which he was, to fall into the hands of the enemy, it was better at once to cut off his head and carry it away. Making another exertion, however, with much difficulty, they contrived to throw him upon a horse, which they led along, and so brought him off.”

On some occasions they contrived to be drunk four times in twenty-four hours. The gallant prince contents himself with a strong ma'jún* one day; but “next morning we had a drinking party in the same tent. We continued drinking till night. On the following morning we again had an early cup, and, getting intoxicated, went to sleep. About noon-day prayers, we left Istálíf, and I took a ma'jún on the road. It was about afternoon prayers before I reached Bahzádi. The crops were extremely good. While I was riding round the harvest-fields, such of my companions as were fond of wine began to contrive another drinking-bout. Although I had taken a ma'jún, yet, as the crops were uncommonly fine, we sat down under some trees that had yielded a plentiful load of fruit, and began to drink. We kept up the party in the same place till bed-time prayers.”

In a year or two after this, when he seems to be in a course of unusual indulgence, we meet with the following edifying remark: “As I intend, when forty years old, to abstain from wine; and as I now want somewhat less than one year of being forty, I drink wine most copiously!” When forty comes, how­ever, we hear nothing of this sage resolution; but have a regular record of the wine and ma'jún parties as before, up to the year 1527. In that year, however, he is seized with rather a sudden fit of penitence, and has the resolution to begin a course of rigorous reform. There is something rather picturesque in his very solemn and remarkable account of this great revolution in his habits.* It would have been well if Bábar had carried out his intention, and left off wine sooner, for there seems good reason to think his indulgence in it shortened his days.