“After that unhappy transaction, Aly-Verdi-Khan returned to his capital, and his son-in-law, Sayd-ahmed-qhan, took the road of Poorniah; but the latter was uneasy in his mind, and thoughtful, at what he had seen and heard lately; and as this had put an end to all the confidence which he had hitherto reposed in his uncle and his nephew, he resolved, henceforward, to spare nothing that might secure himself in his post; and it is from that very time, that an avenging providence commenced providing materials for its future exertions. But, as it is the faithful historian’s duty to bring to light whatever he knows with certitude, I shall take the liberty to assemble such events as are come to my knowledge, and to speak of them precisely as they have happened, without being biased by either envy or love, and without flattering either side or party. I repose so much confidence in the candor and equity of my generous readers, as to flatter myself, that without suffering their minds to be darkened by the dust of discontent, they shall abate in behalf of the poor man (me), something of the punctilious delicacy of their taste; and that they shall overlook all the blemishes of this history, in favour of its sincerity and exacti­tude: I flatter myself, I say, that they shall cover the writer with the cloak of forbearance, should they judge the writing itself unworthy of their praise.”

After an harangue so affecting, it is difficult to judge the author with any severity: If then, I have been obliged to speak of some blemishes of his history, it is because I felt that they might disgust European readers, little accustomed to put a difference between the defects of the composition itself, and those which are incident to the writer’s education, language and country; and likewise because I have been obliged to account for some slight alterations and additions into which I have been occasionally drawn, in order to adopt my narrative to the prejudices and particular taste of my readers; and it is in that view, that I shall touch upon certain observations, which seem particularly to be of the translator’s province, how faulty and inadequate soever his translation may prove.

All the Eastern Authors, at least those I have seen, know nothing of transitions, that is, of that art, which by the means of one or two phrases that look either way, connects two separate subjects, and serves as a bridge of communication to cross over from one to the other. They seem to be strangers to that art; so that the reader at every new subject, is stopped short, to be ferried over by a boat. Our author, like every one of them, passes from one subject to another, with an oo, that is, the particle and: From the Afghan War, to the affairs of Bengal. But here I have some small resource against so sudden, and so abrupt a change of hands: I can say, and I have said: Matters were not so prosperous in Bengal:—Let us now resume the affairs of Bengal:—The course of our history requires that we should revert to the affairs of the capital:—It is to be wished we could speak with as much precision of the affairs of the Decan;—and these little additions will answer some purpose, and shall be forgiven me, I hope, by the public; but how to manage with a man, who often interrupts the narrative of public affairs, to talk of himself, of his brother, Naky-aly-khan, of his Djaghir or Landed Estate, of his glorious Mother, whose shadow may long remain stretched over her son, the poor man,—&c. &c. Who, after having mentioned with wonder, how Governor Hastings conceived and executed the project of sending two English armies across the whole continent of India, and was very nearly doing with Poonah, what some others had done with Moor­shoodabad and Lucknow, gives a spring at once, jumps over my head, and then turns about, to tell me abruptly, and the poor man went to Calcutta, had some interviews with the Navvab Djeladet-djung, the valiant, Governor Hushtin, and spoke to him of his Djaghir. I have no resource against such an unexpected leap; I am obliged to have resource to some awkward addition of my own, and to bring the new subject about by some such words as these: It was in those days of trouble and anxiety that I was obliged to repair to Calcutta; and to address the Governor upon my Djaghir. He said, he said, and he said, are the only words the Eastern Writers make use of, to repeat a dialogue, even a most animated one; nor were the Greeks and Latins much behind them in that particular, the Poets especially, although to make us some amends probably, they never fail to inform us that their hero spoke with his mouth.* No European reader now will bear such a repitition of the words; he said, and I am obliged to enliven the dialogue by intermixing it with the following expressions, so common in an European conversation: He answered—his antagonist rejoined. No, said he, with a surprise: you ought, replied the other with a smile.

Mahmed-yar, an officer of determined courage, was sent with two thousand men to intercept a convoy of treasure: He marches over a tract of seventy-two cosses, in six and thirty hours, overtakes the convoy with only seventy men, and had defeated the escort, and seized the money, by the time his troops are joining him by scores. Our author adds, with one and the same breath, and the Navvab was displeased with him, and he quitted the service. Here the narrative seems to be interrupted by some chasm; and I am obliged to fill it up by adding: “Such an important service, instead of making his fortune, ruined him in the Prince’s mind: He took umbrage at so daring a character: A coolness ensued; and the man disgusted, quitted the service.”

Such and the like indispensible liberties, although taken with ever so sparing a hand, shall possibly surprise those gentlemen employed at the public offices of Calcutta, in trans­lating Persian Letters. I acknowledge with them, that Letters connected with twenty matters actually passing in review, may bear, nay often require, such a dry, scrupulous translation, where even the turn of the phrase is obligatory; but in a narra­tion of any length, in an history of the times, I am convinced that it could not answer; and I hope that they shall upon due consideration, indulge me with their connivance, if not favour me with their approbation.

I had at first translated about a hundred pages of my author, (the last part of his first volume) in that scrupulous manner; and the translation went pretty easily down with me on my perusing it by a couple of pages at a time, just as I translated it—but when I came to read the whole, I acknowledge I found myself tired, sick, of my performance, jaded to death, and unable to drag my attention to the twentieth page; and if this has been the case with myself, how could I pretend to engage the attention of my readers? I have been obliged therefore to set up a method of my own: I read a few pages of the original in the evening, thought the whole of them in English a couple of hours after; and the next morning chewed the cud over, by reading and translating phrase after phrase; sometimes connecting by one or two words what seemed dis­jointed, and then parting what I thought confused; and not seldom pruning what appeared too European in my translation, or else paring what seemed to step aside from the text. I acknowledge, indeed, that I might have read a whole page, and after having thought it in English, might have couched it down in one and the same breath; but this would have proved to be my own style, of which the public eares little, and not the style of Sëyd-Gh8lam-hussëin-khan. Upon the whole then, I can assure the public that this translation, awkward, and inadequate as it shall probably come out to be, is in general a faithful and a literal one.

And here it becomes proper to inform the reader, of some other deviations from the letter of my author, to which, I have thought myself obliged. The author, for instance, speaks first of Mahmed-amin, then of Saader-khan, a few pages after of Burhan-el-mulk, lastly of Burhan-el-mulk-saadet-khan; and yet it is one and the same man. At the seige of Bedjapoor by Aoreng-zib, his eldest son, Soltan-müazzem, is called within the short period of six pages, Shah-aalum, then Soltan-mahommed-müazzem, then Mahommed-müazzem, then Bahadyr-shah, then Soltan-mahommed-bahadyr-shah, although this prince was not complimented with the title of Bahadyr-shah, but several years after, when he ascended the throne. Such a succession of names on the same man occasions in the reader’s idea, still more confusion than those titles of Earl and Duke of such and such country, cause in the English history, where you see the same title, or if you will, the same name, borne successively by noble­men that had not a foot of land in those countries, and were of different, and sometimes of inimical families. But yet, in the English history, the same man carries the same title or name, throughout a whole reign, or even farther, whereas, here the self-same man passing and repassing before you, round and round with a number of new personages, and at each time with a new mask and in different dress; you come at last to mistake and confound the indentity of his person.* To remedy that confusion, which has so much puzzled me at times, I have made it a point to stick invariably to the first name under which I see a man, and to carry him under that name throughout his whole history. But even this rule, general as I have made it, has suffered some deviations, which I have thought to be unavoidable: for instance, there is no mentioning a Mirza-djeladdeen-häider, still less a Mirza-mehmedor or a Mirza-shah-cooly-khan: for the English know nothing, but of Sudjah-ed-döulah, and nothing but of Seradj-ed- döulah. Nevertheless such is my hard case, that although I have men­tioned this, as an exception to my rule, I have been obliged to except upon the exception itself: I have been obliged amongst the several successive names of one and the same person, to attend to that which the English were most accus­tomed to; for instance, in my original, Nassyr-ed-döulah, Viceroy of Decan, is the name generally used: it is that known in the Decan and in Hindostan; but the English are accustomed to Nassyr-djung; Mehabet-djung is the name generally used in Bengal.—But the English never heard but of Aly-verdy-khan.— By the same rule Alemghir is constantly Aoreng-zib with me, Burham-el-mulk is constantly Saadet-khan; nor do I ever part with Sultan-müazzem, but when himself, on ascending his throne, parts with that name to adopt that of Bahadyr-shah.