Siyar al-Muta'ahirin - The Seir Mutaqherin, Volume 2

whole, amounting to one coror and some lacs, was paid into Aaly-verdy-qhan’s treasury, to the discoverer’s great credit, and to his master’s great satisfaction, who henceforward reposed an unbounded confidence in him. The new Minister shone in the An immense balance long forgotten, recovered from treasury by a Gentoo Minister. full zenith of power and influence for two full years, after which falling sick of an hemorrhoidal distemper, he quitted this life of strife and contention, and departed to the other world. On his death-bed he recommended Omid-ráy for his successor; and as this man bore a good character, and had already acted as deputy for a length of years, he was honoured with a Qhylaat, decorated with the title of Ráy-ráyan, and appointed head of the Qhalissa or Accomptant-General’s office.

To these two deaths, we must join that of Mir-habib’s, who being now invested with the supreme command in Oressa, came to have it in his option whether he should dismiss or keep that multitude of Afghans which were in the Marhatta service; for such of the national troops as were left in Oressa, were under the immediate command of an officer, related to Rhago-dji, but who was under Mir-habib’s orders, and could do nothing without directions from him. That General, who had the whole management of the money arising from the revenues of that province, and the disposal of the twelve lacs received from Bengal, used to set apart some of those monies for discharging the arrears due to his Afghans, and transmitted the other part to the treasury of Náigp8r; so that for a year and some months he passed his days agreeably at Catec. But at the end of that time, Djano-dji, elder son of Rhagodji-bhoslah, having been sent to Catec, invested with the office of Deputy to his father, and of Commander-in-Chief of all the Marhatta forces kept on foot for the defence of the province, fortune turned her back upon Mir-habib. As there were numbers of persons jealous of his great power, and the M8tusseddies or men of office, especially could not bear that General’s strictness of command and his imperiousness of temper, they incensed the young Djanodji’s mind against him. The young Prince, who presumed much upon his own opinions, and did not always pay an implicit obedience even to his father’s commands, ordered Mir-habib to render his accounts. He sent for that General, made him over to the Accomptant’s office; and that old soldier who had commanded during his whole life, was now obliged to pass the whole day in hearing questions and giving answers. Unfortunately for him, his troops were at some distance from the Marhatta camp, where he actually was; and, what proved still more unlucky, most of the people that had come in his retinue, being tired with the length of the sitting, had gone about their private business; so that in the evening there remained but few of his people to attend his person. Djano-dji seeing this, retired under pretence of performing his devotions, and left the Banglaw^\(49\) empty, where the Marhatta soldiers and officers immediately crowded, and sent the General word, that unless he gave an account of the monies which he had received, and unless he left a bond under his hand for the balances which he had appropriated to himself, he would not have leave to depart. The General who trusted to his long and meritorious services, and to his high influence with Rhago-dji, made cheap of Djano-dji’s order; and he wanted to get away with the few people about him, sensible that as soon as he should have escaped to his own camp, no one would think of getting him from thence; but although he brought a variety of excuses, he could not extricate himself out of the claws of his destiny. It was now midnight; and the General convinced that words and reasons would be of no avail, put on his clothes; and with his sabre in his hand (this being now the only weapon left in his power), he exhorted the forty or fifty men that were with him, to fight manfully, and to cut their way through the enemy; for he had concluded that without an express order from the young Prince’s father, matters would have not been carried so far with him. The Marhatta troopers, encamped round his Banglaw, formed an opposition to his retreat. A dispute ensued; and both parties proceeding to blows, Mir-habib, who was on foot and unarmed, and had but a handful of men, was slain as he was pushing forward with ardour; and every one of his followers was either killed or disabled. A few that remained alive, although grievously wounded, were made prisoners. Such a fatal event having soon come to Rhago-dji’s knowledge, could not fail highly to incense that Prince against his son; but it was too late, and the unfortunate Mir-habib, after so many years of toil and expectation, was snatched from the world, at the very time he was preparing to eat some of the fruits of that tree which he had planted with so many pains and dangers. Doubtless so untimely a fate had been ordered by Providence in compensation for the many families he had ruined in his wars, and the many houses he had destroyed in his incursions, in one word, for the many violences he had been exercising all over Bengal by himself or by others these ten years past. He fell, without having yet tasted of the fruit of enjoyment, and irrevocably lost in an instant the hopes of a whole life of toil and fatigue. After his death, Mirza-saleh, the late negotiator of the peace, received the investiture of the Government of Oressa both from Aaly-verdy-qhan and from Rhago-dji. He received a double Qhylaat, and passed his time quietly enough, but far, however, from shewing that firmness of command, and that authority of person, so conspicuous in Mir-habib. Nevertheless he made a shift to go on with a difficult administration, where he was obliged alternately to employ threats and dissimulation and forbearance; but in either case, however, he reckoned himself totally dependent of the Government of Náigp8r, without the least deference to that of Bengal.

This year likewise, and it was at the end of 1165, or at the beginning of the next, Radja Djankiram, the Deputy-Governor of Azim-abad, departed this life, and was succeeded by another Gentoo, Radja Ram-naráan, son to Reng-laal. This latter gentleman had been from his very youth bred in Aaly-verdy-qhan’s family, where he had been first Secretary to Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan at the very beginning of his administration; from thence he was appointed Pish-car or precursor or deputy to the Divan of Prime Minister of Bahar; and in Djankiram’s time he rose so high, as to be promoted himself to that high office, in which he exhibited so many abilities in clearing up the accounts of finances, and so much fidelity in managing its receipts and expenditures, that he came to be worthy of no less a station than that of Deputy-Governor of the province of Azim-abad. He received the investiture of it in a rich Qhylaat, to which was added a serpich, a sabre, and an elephant. This promotion of a Gentoo was followed by another. It was that of Radja D8l8bram who in Djankiram, his father’s time, had been Deputy-Divan of the musters at M8rsh8d-abad, and was reputed one of the trustiest men in Aaly-verdy-qhan’s service. On his father’s death, he received with each of his three brothers a Qhylaat of mourning; and in a few days more he received another that appointed him Divan of the musters in his own sole name; and as he had given the world a great opinion of his abilities and integrity, he was desired by Radja Ram-naráin to act as his Agent-General at the Court of M8rsh8d-abad, and to transact there for him every business that might require a question or an answer, or any other discussion about whatever concerned the administration of Azim-abad.

Aaly-verdy-qhan, now fully employed in pacific occupations that tended to promote the welfare of his people, passed his days pleasantly but regularly. Every day of the week was appointed for some particular business, or some particular object, never to be interfered by any other; a distribution of time which he had always affected, and which greatly contributed to dispatch and regularity. In the winter season he used to repair to Radjmahl, where he enjoyed the pleasures of hunting the stag and the tiger (a diversion of which he was particularly fond), and after having spent his mornings in it, he amused himself with animals fighting together, such as cocks of Decan, and of elephants. At these hunting parties he was always accompanied by his second nephew and son-in-law, Sáyd-mahmed-qhan, who never failed at such times to come down from P8raniah, and sometimes dutifully accompanied his uncle as far as M8rsh8d-abad, where he took that opportunity to make a visit to his elder brother, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, as well as to the consort and three sons of his younger brother, the unfortunate Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan. This year in particular he had a further motive to repair to the capital, where his elder brother and his consort, Biby-Gahassity, were intreating him to listen to the wishes of Nefissa-begum, who wanted to marry Aga-baba, her adoptive son, to one of Sáyd-mahmed-qhan’s daughters; and exerted every nerve to accomplish that end. The Prince had now brought the intended bride, with all his friends, relations and kinsmen, and every preparative relative to the wedding; when lo! the ceremoney was at once suspended by the premature death of Ecram-ed-döulah, younger brother to Seradj-ed-döulah, a youth Death of Ecram-ed-döulah. who had been adopted in his very craddle by his uncle, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, who never had any child of his own. The infant was bred with the tenderest care under the eyes of his adoptive father, who doated so much upon him, that a stranger would have taken him for the most impassionate lover. He died of the small-pox, which proved so virulent, as to amaze all the beholders. The moment he ceased to be, a general scream and howling, not unlike that which shall rise at the last judgment, broke forth from every part of the palace, and it was echoed by those that rose in Aaly-verdy-qhan’s palace, and in those of all his relations, all of which became inconsolable. This mournful accident having suspended the match, the father with the bride returned to P8rania. This loss made a deep impression on the adoptive father’s heart. He henceforward lost all relish for the world; became restless and often giddy, sour in his temper, negligent in his dress and person, and totally alienated from every thing, but the tender object of his sorrow. In vain did his consort, in vain did his venerable uncle, try every method to reconcile him to life and enjoyment. Numberless pastimes and amusements were daily offered to his sight; all in vain. The inconsolable lord seemed insensible to any other feeling but that of his loss. Some months after, and it was on the day of the sacrifice, that day of rejoicing and fresh clothes for all mankind, he was visited by Aaly-verdy-qhan, who requested, but in vain, some change of apparel on so great a solemnity. The afflicted man proved deaf; and the Viceroy seing in what condition he was, ordered him to be shifted in his very presence; he also directed his consort and all the ladies of his sanctuary to appear in his presence with clothes suitable to so great a day, so as to attract some attention from him by such a spectacle. The man submitted to everything; but as soon as he was left to himself, he threw away his turbant, dropped his new clothes, and sat disconsolate in his late squalid apparel, the very picture of desolation and despair. He would strike his hands on his head and face, weep bitterly, and vent his grief in the most piercing lamentations, interrupted now and then by deep sobs. I have been disloyal to my love, did he say, wringing his hands together, I have parted with him; have been a faithless lover, an ungrateful friend, but stay, will repair my neglect—It was in this manner he went on consuming his days, a prey to grief and unutterable woe. At last it pleased the Almighty comforter of the afflicted to provide some relief for his mind. A lady that had been attached to the deceased young Prince, and had been left pregnant by him, was in a few months brought to bed of a son; and this lucky event was seized on by Aaly-verdy-qhan to alleviate his nephew’s sorrow. In compliment to his grief, the infant was in his very craddle decorated with the rank of six thousand horse, and the title of M8rad-ed-döulah,^\(50\) or the wished-for of the Empire. No insignia, no mark of elevation and eminence were spared for him; he had his fringed Paleki, his Nagara, (or kettle-drum), his insignia of the fish, his standards, and even his Naleki and Taht-revan, or moving throne. The patents of all these distinctions having been supplicated long ago from the Imperial Court, were now carried by the Viceroy himself to his inconsolable nephew, who struck with the newness of the sight, turned his eyes upon the child, amused himself with its smiles, and by degrees conceived a fondness for him; and no less than such a consolation was requisite to make him go on with his own existence. And now to dignities and sounding titles were added employments. The superintendency of the buildings (which is an office of importance) was conferred on the child; and a retinue of mace-bearers, menial servants, gentlemen-ushers, secretaries, equeries, horses, and camels and elephants, as well as a seraglio, having been provided for him, all proportioned to their lord’s size, the child and its diminutive household being sometimes carried along the streets, afforded a diverting spectacle to the whole city. Some persons of character and distinction having been thought of for superintending his education, and some others for watching over its amusements, or partaking of its pleasures, those offices came to be sought for with a deal of emulation, as being deemed a sure road to preferment. It was in this manner the disconsolate man was beguiling his sorrow and grief; but yet, since the accident that had deprived him of his darling, he seemed to be dead to the world. No life seemed to remain in him; and not only his own person was verging to a sensible decay, but his very family, and indeed, the whole of Aaly-verdy-qhan’s family, was withering visibly from that very time. Doubtless the recording hand of an attentive Providence had entered in its registers the behaviour of Hadji-ahmed to Ser-effraz-qhan’s family, after that Prince’s death, behaviour overlooked by Aaly-verdy-qhan, his brother. Hadji-ahmed had rent the veil, the sacred veil, that hung over the deceased’s innermost household. He had cast a prying eye throughout his sanctuary; had given way to a prophane longing for some ladies of his bed; thrown a criminal hand upon some of them; and carried others away by main force. Nor were all those enormities taken notice of by the Viceroy, his brother, who unaware, or more probably unmindful, of his having become by his victory the supreme Magistrate of the country, had the meanness to wink at such atrocities; and as other excesses and other enormities had been exercised also over the deceased’s children, ladies, family, dependants and private estate; so, a like treatment had been invisibly set apart for the perpetrators; and an avenging Providence, that had minutely recorded every one of those excesses, now came upon the victorious family for a full retribution, and a chastisement in kind. In the zenith of the conqueror’s power, such infamies and lewdnesses came to be practised by some females and other persons of his family, as cannot be mentioned with decency, but effectually dishonoured his family for ever. All his daughters, as well as his beloved Seradj-ed-döulah, lapsed into such a flagitious conduct, and they were guilty of such a variety of shameful excesses, as would have disgraced totally any person whatever, still more, persons of their elevated rank and sublime station. It was this darling of his, this beloved Seradj-ed-döulah, who by running up and down the streets, accustomed himself to hold such vile discourses and to commit such unaccountable actions, as amazed every one. Patrolling every street and every lane with a cohort composed of Aaly-verdy-qhan’s children and grand-children, he fell into an abominable way of life, that respected neither rank, nor age, nor sex, but was calculated to prepare from afar the ruin and desol ation of that sublime building of fortune and sovereignty which its founder had been rearing with so much toil and danger. No notice was taken of so flagitious a conduct; and it was on such repeated connivances that the young man commenced a course of enormities that afforded materials, and administered fuel, to the overtaking vengeance of an unerring observer. This conduct, which Aaly-verdy-qhan overlooked in that infatuated young man, turned out to be so natural in him, that at last he became fearless, and was committing daily excesses and violences of all kinds, not only without the least remorse, but also without the least reprimand. He made a sport of sacrificing to his lust almost every person of either sex, to which he took a fancy; or else, he converted them without scruples into so many objects of the malignity of his temper, or the frolics of his inconsiderate youth. And having by this time provided himself with a number of followers consonant to his mind, he commenced a course of insolencies, infamies, and profligacies; and either out of that ignorance, incident to that age, or because of an ardour natural to his constitution (although really it was because of his perfect reliance on his uncle’s forbearance), such a course of life became in him his real character. This is so far true, that he was observed to be low spirited and melancholy, whenever he fell short of opportunities to commit his usual excesses and enormities; and they became so customary to him, that he acted all along without a grain of remorse, or a spark of recollection. Making no distinction betwixt vice and virtue, and paying no regard to the nearest relations, he carried defilement wherever he went; and like a man alienated in his mind he made the houses of men and women of distinction the scenes of his profligacy, without minding either rank or station. In a little time he became as detested as Pharao. People on meeting him by chance used to say, God save us from him! And his insolence and pride growing to a height by impunity, he set at nought the important services rendered to his uncle and family by both Hossëin-c8ly-qhan, and his brother, Háider-aaly-qhan, and he undertook to put His person detested. them both to death. This was his coup-dessay; and to insure success to his design, he made use of some art to gain the heart of a young man, who having had mighty disputes with the officers employed by Hossëin-c8ly-qhan, Deputy-Governor of the province of Dacca, had come over to M8rsh8d-abad to complain of them, and had found means to lay his case before Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, who concerned himself in his behalf. His name was, Aga-sadyc, and his title, Sadacat-mahmed-qhan, son to Aga-bakyr, a considerable Zemindar of those parts. Seradj-ed-döulah engaged him to return to Dacca in order to kill Hussen-eddin-qhan, nephew to Hussëin-c8ly-qhan, and the latter’s Deputy of Dacca, a young man who for some reasons had fallen into a melancholy, that had disordered his senses. The man did exactly as he was bid. Such a murder committed so bluntly, struck a terror and consternation in the mind of all the inhabitants of that great city, who concluded that an action of that high nature would have never been perpetrated, had not some person of the first rank afforded it countenance. So that every one remained silent, and thoughtful, until it became known that the perpetrator had no order, and no voucher in his hand. He was therefore set upon by the inhabitants and by the friends of Hussëin-c8ly-qhan, who missed the murderer, but by mistake killed his father, Aga-bakyr. The son having escaped so great a danger, fled to M8rsh8d-abad; and by such a step threw away both his peace of mind, and the safety of his person. This affair was put up with by Seradj-ed-döulah for the present; but it was only for the present; for he soon found means to concern all the members of his family in his resentment; and his grandmother, consort to Aaly-verdy-qhan, went so far, as to ask leave to put to death the two obnoxious brothers, meaning Hussëin-c8ly-qhan, and Háider-aaly-qhan. The old Viceroy, by one of those neglects that cannot be ascribed to anything but an unavoidable fate, contented himself with answering, that such an affair could not be done without Nevazish-mahmed-qhan’s consent.

This, the grandmother undertook to procure; and after having extorted her husband’s tacit consent, she applied to her son-in-law, by his consort, who was her daughter. This Princess, although so nearly related to Seradj-ed-döulah, bore him an invincible hatred; but at that time there had happened a little misunderstanding between her and Hossëin-c8ly-qhan for an inconsiderable subject, which it would be improper to mention;^\(51\) and she was so dissatisfied with him, that she joined her mother in persuading Navazish-mahmed-qhan. The latter, who had been at all times a weak man, and now was discontented with both earth and heaven, gave his consent to an infamous action which contained in itself his condemnation in this world, and in the other; the more so, as he was an intimate friend of Hossëin-c8ly-qhan’s; and oaths and promises upon the glorious Coran had intervened between them, that he would at all times take as much care of the life and honour of his friend, as he might of his own. All these preparations being over, Aaly-verdy-qhan, to save appearances, as he fancied, and to conceal his share in the perpetration of the crime, went to Radjmahl, on pretence of a hunting party. This hunting coming to the ears of Sàyd-ahmed-qhan, his son-in-law, he repaired thither from P8raniah, to pay him his respects; and it is that nobleman that did me the honour to present me to Aaly-verdy-qhan. This Prince was pleased to make much of me; and he seemed desirous to attach me to his person; but fate did not allow him time, and as I was already provided for, his desire did not take place; but it is very probable, that had I repaired to his capital immediately after Sáyed-ahmed-qhan’s demise, he would have amply provided for me to the utmost of my wishes, and in a manner suitable to my rank in life. But Aaly-verdy-qhan died soon after; and it became too late to avail myself of his good will. And thanks be to God, that I was not reduced to the necessity of appearing at a new door. After such a digression, which the reader will pardon, we shall return to the thread of our history.

Seradj-ed-döulah then on his grandfather’s departure, made a visit to his uncle, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, and having received his consent, he was returning home in the evening; and this was A. D. 1754-55. in the beginning of the year 1168. But as Hossëin-c8ly-qhan’s house lay full in his way, and that poor wretch, who expected his death these many days, had constantly kept himself at home, he stopped at the gate, and ordered that both brothers should be brought forth directly. Hossëin-c8ly-qhan, warned by the throng at his gate, fled, and took shelter in Hadji-mehdy’s house, which was close to his own; and he desired him to go immediately, and to give notice to Navazish-mahmed-qhan, (whose gentleman usher Hadji-mehdy was) of his friend, Hossëin-c8ly-qhan’s danger. Thither Hadji-mehdy went immediately; but receiving no favourable answer, he was returning home in a dejected state of mind. Meanwhile the satellites having broke into the man’s house, and into the adjoining ones, soon found Hossëin-c8ly qhan, whom they brought to their master. That cruel, relentless, remorseless monster, no sooner cast his eyes upon him, than he ordered his being hacked to pieces; and he was hacked to pieces accordingly. It was in this manner that unfortunate man drank up his cup of martyrdom. His brother, Háider-aaly-qhan, who was blind, being brought in the same manner, was made a partaker of his brother’s fate. But as he was an ancient warrior and a valorous man, instead of descending to supplications and tears, as had done his brother, he gave his murderer foul language, and loaded him with taunting reproaches, in which he severely reflected on his person, his mother, and his family. Thou worthless felow! said he, it is thus that thou murderest brave men? He was not suffered to say more, but was instantly cut down.

The innocent blood spilt in that occasion proved as fertile in troubles, as that of Siavush of old. It produced a series of events that proved fatal to that power and dominion, which Aaly-verdy-qhan had been rearing with so much bodily labour, and so much toil; it lighted up a blind fire which soon after these two murders, commenced emitting smoke; and which breaking out in flames at last, destroyed in its progresses all that numerous family; and extending its ravages far and near, consumed every thing in those once happy regions of Bengal, prostrating and overwhelming totally those rich provinces which it has reduced to a heap of ashes, and yet smoking coals. It verified that tremendous sentence once revealed to the Prince of Messengers: So shalt thou have done; so shalt thou receive.

After that unhapy transaction, Aaly-verdy-qhan returned to his capital; and his son-in-law, Sàyd-ahmed-qhan, took the road of P8raniah; 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 both the uncle and the nephew, he resolved henceforward to spare nothing that might secure himself in his post; and it is from that moment that an avenging Providence commenced providing materials for its future exertions. But as it is the faithful historian’s duty to assemble such events as are come to his knowledge, and to speak of them precisely as they shall have happened, without being biassed by either envy or love, and without flattering either side or party; so I repose so much confidence in the candour 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.

Nevazish-mahmed-qhan ever since Ecram-ed-döulah’s demise, had fallen into a course of despondence and sorrow, that incessantly preyed upon his spirits; so that he was seldom himself, and seldom easy or in full health. After a length of time symptoms of an hydropsy were discovered upon him. A little before that distemper had declared itself, the physician, Aaly-naky-qhan the Isfahanian, used to say that the distemper was preparing to make its appearance, and that now was the time to provide against it by taking more care of his person, or never; but the disconsolate Lord continued as insensible as usual. After the distemper had declared itself, his consort and friends intreated him, but to no purpose, to allow himself to be taken care of. Matters growing worse, Aaly-verdy-qhan ordered him to be brought to his palace, together with his consort, and his whole family and dependants, without excepting the women that were connected with his nephew, and in particular Bhag-bhai, a favourite actrisse^\(52\) and some others. As soon as he arrived, he was made over to the physicians; but as it is in vain for a man to arm himself with a bucler against the shafts of destiny, the sick lord’s condition became worse and worse; and signs of an approaching dissolution made their appearance. His consort, who although actually in her father’s house, trembled lest Seradj-ed-döulah should confine her in that very palace, now resolved to provide for her safety; and putting herself in a covered chair together with her dying husband, she carried him to her own lodgings, where the sick man paid no attention to that change. But on the evening of the day in which he was to depart this life, he asked what day of the week would be to-morrow, and being answered, it would be Monday, he expressed his joy and said: a pleasing day! I will be joined to my love. And whether he gave directions accordingly, or that his people paid a regard to his attachment to the young Prince, it is certain A. D. 1754-55. that he was entombed close to him. He died the thirteenth of the second Reby, in the year 1169 of the Hedjra; and his Secretary has enclosed this date in a chronogram in verses which he composed on the occasion. As soon as it was daylight, his body was attended by the Prince of the learned, Mir-mahmed-aaly-fazyl, (whose learning may God preserve!) by Aaly-verdy-qhan himself, and by all the relations and kinsmen of that family, as well as by the principal persons of the city, joined to an infinity of persons of all sexes and ranks. After purifying the body according to law, and pronouncing over it the customary prayers, they took it up, and carried it alternately upon their shoulders, to Moty-djil, a country-seat which he had built himself and much embellished. There they deposed it for a while in the mosque which he had raised in that palace’s garden; and then they committed it to the ground close to Ecram-ed-döulah, in the very yard of that mosque. The moment they first raised his body from the ground, such a cry and such a scream broke out at once from an infinity of men and women, as seemed to rend the air; it was such as had never been seen or heard on the like occasion at any time before. But there is no wonder if he was so much regretted. He used to spend thirty-seven thousand rupees per month in charities to old impotent persons, whether distant relations or not, whether acquaintances or strangers; and this was over and above the stated pensions that were borne in his books. These secret charities were every first day of the month put in small cloth-bags of several bignesses, and sealed in his presence; after which they were ranged in several classes upon large trays or covered tables, and entrusted to eunuchs and trusty old women of his seraglio, who carried them round from house to house to each respective owner. May God’s mercy rest upon him for ever! His compassion to the distressed, the impotent, the orphan and the friendless, was so extensive, that he surpassed in beneficence every member of a family where that quality seemed to be of natural growth. He was fond of living well, and of amusements and pleasures; could not bear to be upon bad terms with any one; and was not pleased when a disservice was rendered to another. Every distressed widow and orphan of the city of M8rsh8d-abad seemed to him to be of his family. If any one of them had no certain livelihood, or if having any, it proved insufficient, or if sufficient, it was liable to some impediment; any person of such a description was sure of finding a patron in him. All such persons were sure to be relieved, and relieved with an exactitude, and a modesty that seemed striving to oblige handsomely. He was averse to flattery, and disinclined from those rules of state, and those airs of reservedness imposed on persons of his high rank. He loved to live with his servants, as their friend and companion, and with his acquaintances, as their brother and equal. All his friends and acquaintances were admitted to the liberty of smoking their Hoccas or Pipes in his presence, and to drink coffee, whilst he was conversing familiarly with them; and he made it a point to oblige them, without making a parade of it; and also to grant a favour in secret, for which he had excused himself in public, and had asked their pardon. One day Naky-c8ly-qhan, son to Hadji-abdollah the historian, a man of letters who had been Divan of Burhanp8r in Aoreng-zib’s time, having interceded for a Séyd, who was now in prison at Djehanghir-nugur for a balance of six thousand rupees due to Government, and which he could not pay, he represented “that it would be a pity that so worthy a Séyd should be in penances, whilst so many thousand rupees, to the double and even the quadruple of that sum, were monthly spent in alms and in charities; and he added that it was to be hoped that the above sum would be forgiven the man, and also that he would be sent for to the presence, and provided for.” This short request had its full effect on that beneficent nobleman. With evident signs of emotion and pity, he ordered that letters of pardon should be immediately dispatched for that man, with orders to send him to M8rsh8d-abad; and he returned thanks to the intercessor for having put him in mind of so meritorious a piece of work. May God bless you, said he, for your having brought such an action in my way, and procured me such a happiness! If the Crown-officers prove dilatory, give me notice of it quickly, that I may provide against their malice, and deliver that poor Séyd from that scene of evil and affliction. Such instances of his beneficence were without number, and they are remembered by all to this day. My mother having been obliged to quit Patna in order to go to M8rsh8d-abad, where she had some particular business, carried her whole family thither, to wit, my two younger brothers, Séyd-aaly-qhan and Ghalib-aaly-qhan, as well as her daughter’s husband, Mir-assed-aaly; and finding herself obliged to remain in that city longer than she expected, she was somewhat at a loss how to subsist honourably. That blessed man no sooner heard of this, than he undertook her support; and without waiting for any prayer or recommendation, he of his own accord settled upon her a plentiful and honourable pension; and besides that, he made her yearly presents of precious stuffs fit for her person and family, especially of those that were bespoke for his own family in quanties at Djehanghir-nugur, Maldah and Nediah. And as Ghalib-aaly-qhan, her younger son, was of the same age with his adoptive son, Ecram-ed-döulah, he took a pleasure in carrying him together with the young Prince to his country-seats and gardens in his parties of pleasure. In one of those parties, a dance-girl of the troupe in Ecram-ed-döulah’s service chanced to take a liking to Ghalib-aaly-qhan, and was now and then in her very performance dropping amorous glances at the young man; who being himself so very young and so unexperienced in what might be right or wrong, and withal so exposed to all the inadvertencies incident to humanity at that age, used to return the glances in the same style. The young noblemen of the same age, who accompanied Ecram-ed-döulah having observed that rising intelligence, were fired with jealousy and emulation, and they gave notice of the matter to him; so that he quitted the garden with apparent marks of displeasure. Nevazish-mahmed-qhan informed of this, sent for my mother, and with the greatest gentleness and circumspection, he gave her notice of what had happened; and added that in his opinion the best way to prevent the two children from falling out together, would be to keep her son at home for some days. Ecram-ed-döulah, who in thoughtlessness and violence of temper was a true copy of his elder brother, Seradj-ed-döulah, did not seem fully satisfied with that retreat; and to give himself the merit of having repressed his anger out of complaisance to his adoptive father, he was heard to say in his presence, “that yesterday Ghalib-aaly qhan had fairly escaped out of his hands; else,” added he, “I would have killed him on the spot.” These words having been several days together successive repeated in his presence, the good natured lord comprehended that the speaker wanted to feel his pulse on the subject; and losing patience at once, he screamed out: By the thirty chapters of the word of God, had you killed him, I would have cut your throat with my own hands. After this sudden flash of resentment, he recovered his usual tone of voice, and after having spoken with all that tenderness which he constantly shewed him, he gave him a severe reprimand. Ecram-ed-döulah surprised at a speech that proved so contrary to his expectation, wept much and sobbed much, and then said: “You would have killed me for him, then? Yes,” replied the “blessed man, “I see no great difference between you and him. You are son of one sister of mine, and he is son of another.” Ecram-ed-döulah hearing a language to which he was not accustomed, cooled by degrees, and repressed his anger. Such was that blessed man’s temper; and it must be acknowledged that the care he took of another’s life, where his own heart was so deeply concerned by the ties of an attachment that even exceeded the most impassionate love, could not arise from anything else than a peculiar excellence of character. But there is here a still stronger proof of it. He was fond of a famous actrisse or dancer called Bhag-bhái. Her rank in his family was next to that of his consort; and to oblige him, the Princesses of his kindred paid her much regard and much deference; but my mother, (may God long keep her shade stretched over my head!) who was haughty and sometimes of a strange temper, could not bear to see her, and would not even converse with her on any account. Now it must be observed, that it was customary for him in speaking to my blessed mother to make use of the expressions, Hear lady, or hear biby. Bhag-bhái having inadvertently made use of the same expression, my mother flew into a passion, and said: “Who art thou, woman, that thou should dare to speak at that rate? This way of speaking becomes superiors, when speaking to inferiors, or masters when speaking to their dependants; but thou art in neither predicament. Look at this maid of mine yonder; I set no great difference between you and her. If there be any, it is in this, that she wears a few trinkets of silver and gold, and that thou wearest many gems and much jewel-work.” Bhag-bhái stooped and did not answer a single word; but she was deeply wounded, and she complained bitterly to her lord. His answer was, that such was that lady’s temper, that she knew it; and why then did she put herself in her way? My mother went home, with an intention to return to Azim-abad; and she for a long time abstained from going to Court. But such a separation was more than the blessed man could bear. He sent persons of distinction to soothe her mind, but all in vain; till at last he sent her this message: Please to come of yourself; else, I declare to you that we shall go, Biby-Gahassity and myself, and by all means shall bring you along. My mother on this message, repaired to the palace, where he received her with the highest distinction, requesting her to be reconciled to his family and house. She answered that she wanted to repair to Azim-abad. And why so, replied the worthy man, with a melting tone of voice? Why should you insist upon leaving us? No one has said anything disagreeable to you; you have of yourself taken offence, and have said whatever you had a mind to. At this moment his consort, Gahassity-biby, who had her cue, made suddenly her appearance. She was in company with Nefissa-begum, mother to the late Ser-effraz-qhan, a Princess who was treated with the highest regard by the reigning family. Pray, sister, what is the matter with your anger, said she? And what is the matter that you are so angry with your brother? What he tells you seems to be right; and you, sister, wholly taken up with a quarrel of your own making, do not mind all the uneasiness you give him. To all this my blessed mother continued to pay no attention, seemingly intent only on asking and obtaining leave to be gone; upon which the good natured man arose from his Mesned, and went up to her. Well then, said he, I am guilty! I am guilty! And now I come to your feet to obtain my pardon. These words overpowered my blessed mother; her sensibility broke forth into a flood of tears, and she poured a torrent of blessings upon him. She got up, uttered a fervent prayer that God Almighty might prolong his days, and his power, and she promised to remain.

It is such an amiable character that she is now remembering with sobs and regrets; and it is such a surpassing goodness she is mentioning at times with floods of tears, in which with a voice interrupted by the sobs of deep felt woe she often supplicates the most merciful of the most merciful to make him an object of his forgiveness. His kindness was no less conspicuous with the family and descendants of Aga-mirza, who was a son of the learned Doctor, Medjlissi, with whom he had been acquainted, so early as the reign of Shudjah-qhan, at which time Aga-mirza was then in the splendour of his power and influence. He took such care of his deceased friend’s children and consort, the latter of which was a daughter of Naky-c8ly-qhan, that no one would be more careful of his own wife and children. On hearing that his friend had died in his boat, on his coming from Dacca, where he had an office of importance, but when he heard that the family was not in good circumstances, he sent for the relict and her two sons, the one Mirza-bakyr, and the other Mirza-abdollah (whom may this my salute reach intire!) and took such care of them as to surprise even those that were acquainted with the goodness of his heart. He appointed eunuchs to inspect their conduct, and masters to teach them the grammer and sciences; and he added to those cares a pension of seven hundred rupees per month, over and above seven hundred more which he allowed the mother; to all which he used to join in both seasons a profusion of precious stuffs, which were always ushered with this expression: These can only fit your maids; but accept them for my sake. Doubtless it is of him that it was said:

Verses:

As I, the poor man, was upon the most intimate footing with that nobleman, as well as with his brother, Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, and I had a perfect knowledge of their characters, and ways of life, I can vouch for the foregoing two stories (one of which happened in my own family); and of such stories there may be a thousand; for he had a thousand such acquaintances, on whom he bestowed his care and money in so generous a manner, that he kept it as a secret. But it is no less certain that there was no orphan and no widow in the city, that did not partake in some shape or other of his bounty and munificence; and how far he had carried the benignity of his temper, may be conceived from this particular, that at his death the city of M8rsh8d-abad looked like an immense hall filled with people in mourning; and that an infinity of persons looked upon his death as an irreparable loss for their own families.

His second brother, whose name was Mahmed-sáyd, and whose titles at length were Nassyr-el-mulk-sàyd-ahmed qhan-bahadyr-sö8lut-djung, had a character that held the middle way between his two brothers. He was handsomer than either, superior to both in many respects, their equal in most, and their inferior in few, if any at all. In power, riches, and influence, he was inferior to his elder brother, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan; and in that sense he was likewise inferior to his younger brother, Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan, to whom the possession of the important Government of Azim-abad naturally gave a great lustre; he was, however, supposed to be richer than him. But on the other hand, he was thought to be somewhat below that standard in prowess and military talents, although undoubtedly superior in those respects to his elder. In the sweetness of his deportment, and also in knowledge and science, he was superior to both; but in firmness of temper, and in acuteness of discernment Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan surpassed both his brothers. Sáyd-ahmed-qhan in his youth had been much addicted to amusements and pleasures, that is, he was fond of the company of fine woman, and delighted in seeing dancers and actrisses and singers; but this turn of mind having brought upon him the disgrace which befell him in Catec, he so far corrected his way of life that, instead of those dissolute men that had been always in his company, he attached to his person a number of friends distinguished by their birth, their virtue or their knowledge; and instead of passing his life amongst dance-women and actrisses, he only indulged now and then in looking or listening at their performances. About one hour before day-break, and after having performed the usual evacuations and ablutions,^\(53\) he went through his devotions, and then sate in state in the great hall, where he gave a public audience twice a week, to afford an opportunity to every suitor of speaking to him. The Friday he abstained from all business; but there were four days in the week, where he spoke of nothing else; and then he divided his time in the following manner: In the morning his friends were admitted and drank coffee with him; after which were admitted his acquaintances and others, some of whom sate only a little, and others withdrew immediately after having made their bow. After this, he sate still two hours more, and then retired to an apartment reputed belonging to the sanctuary, and where none were admitted but old females of the seraglio, and trusty eunuchs. The M8tusuddies and heads of the several offices remained without; but occasionally transmitted by the hands of the eunuchs such of their papers as required his perusal or signature. These he perused in private and in silence, and after having examined the contents, he returned them, signed or rejected, as he thought proper; and meanwhile, his friends, and the principal persons of his Court, amongst which was also this most inconsiderable of mankind, were sitting without, in a hall separated from his closet by a curtain. His Secretaries also attended there, and occasionally sent in their minutes by the hands of an eunuch; and these being returned after some corrections, were transcribed fair, sent in again to be sealed by the seal-keeper, then attending, and returned again to be dispatched; the Postmaster always attending with a number of couriers, ready. At about ten o’clock dinner was served up, and it was always accompanied by a number of tables and trays covered with victuals. These were always brought ready, and distributed in the houses of his friends and acquaintances, to some every day, to some twice a week, to some others once a week, and to very few twice in a month. This was a standing rule that required no new direction. Whilst the Superintendent of the kitchen was arranging these tables, and exposing them to his view, the civilians and heads of offices stood up, and after having sent in their respects by the ministry of an eunuch, they withdrew to their homes. After dinner he usually took a nap; and then rising about noon, he went through the usual evacuations and ablutions, made his noon-prayers, and then read some chapter of the word of God. At about three o’clock, he performed his third prayer and then came into the public hall, where he conversed with learned and eminent men, such as Gholam-yahia and the Mufty-zya-ollah, and Mir-vahed, and the Moluvy or Doctor Lal-mahmed, and Shek-hedáiet-ollah, and Sëyd-abdol-hadi. With these he conferred upon some point of science, often upon his own Coran, of which he would read a passage, which was explained and commented by Mollah-gholam-yáhia, to which others added their opinions and observations. He used to say: “That at his age to make new acquisitions in matters of knowledges was almost impossible; that he was satisfied with what little he had of it, and wanted no addition; but that reading and comprehending matters of knowledge seemed to add new life to his existence; and that he was so accustomed to that way of life, that when the conferences did not take place, as usual, he reckoned himself to have that day suffered a great loss in his treasury, and was uneasy until it was retrieved and made up.” As he was exceedingly kind to me, the last of men, he always insisted on my being present at the conferences, and he was mightily pleased with my observations and illustrations. In voyage or at home, he spoke now and then to others, but seemed particularly to hang on what I, the most inconsiderable of mankind, would say; and he expressed at all times so much esteem for me, that his oldest acquaintances and friends used to wonder by what art and magic this new man had acquired so much ascendant upon him; and how the Prince was at all times so ready to quit the company of others, to go to him. The conferences usually took up two whole hours, after which admission was given to the most considerable of his friends, such as Séif-aaly-qhan, brother to Séif-qhan, and son as well as he, of Emir-qhan, Viceroy of Cabul; Roh-eddin-husséin-qhan, another son of Séif-qhan’s, and a young nobleman with whom he had contracted an alliance; Naky-aaly-qhan, my younger brother; and Mir-aaly-yar-qhan son to Séif-qhan’s sister; all illustrious persons to whom he used to join Radja-adjaib-ráy, his Prime Minister, and after his death, his son, Radja Sehudj-ráy. He admitted also the heads of the Paymaster’s office, as well as those of the light artillery. To these were added the Secretary Rày-churamon, Djaafer-c8ly-qhan, Keeper of the Treasury, and Mirza-da8d the Qhansaman or Steward. All these used to sit a full hour, and after exposing what they had to say, they took their leave, and then the Prince quitted the hall, and entered his sanctuary, where with some favourite ladies of his he would take an airing in that fine garden, which he had enclosed; or he mounted with them upon small ponies richly adorned, and rode with them up and down the enclosure. The evening being come, he performed his fourth prayer; and then was attended by some favourite actrisses, dancers and singers of his; else, he remained alone, and was entertained with some curious and diverting story or tale, which lulled him to sleep; and this was at about nine or ten o’clock. This rule of life held regularly the whole year round, without exception. He was naturally a sweet tempered man; and civility was so natural to him, that for full seven years, in which I have been in his service, I never remember to have heard him say a harsh word to any one (whether high or low), or to have seen him guilty of an improper action. He was pleased with mangnificence, and fond of living nobly; and although his revenue was greatly inferior to that of his elder brother, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, who was these many years in office, and whose treasures of course must have been greatly above his standard; yet he was his equal in jewels, silver and gold furniture, as well as in elephants and some other articles appertaining to the highest ranks; and these appeared at his death, when the treasury was found to contain forty-five lacs in silver, and, if I well remember, about one lac of Eshreffies;^\(54\) nor was the jewel-office found to contain less than those sums in jewels, in gold and silver furniture, and in precious stuffs; he had also a great number of elephants and horses, and other animals in plenty; and all in good condition.

Once (and he was then in his private apartment with a number of ladies behind the curtain) he took into his head to make me a present of an elephant, for he was that day very merry, and amusing himself with the apparatus of the Busunt-panchmi, or festival used in introducing the spring season. He had with him in the closet, an old man called Mir-mahbó8b-aaly, who was extremely attached to him, having been his acquaintance so early as the times when he came in Bengal with Hadji-ahmed, his father, in quest of a livelihood. There was no other person at all in the apartment, save a few menial servants. An eunuch came out of the closet and called me up. I went in, and made my bow; on which he desired me to be seated; and he commenced conversing on a variety of subjects. After some time spent in this manner, it was announced in a high tone of voice by Hazyr-aaly-qhan (a slave of his household, and now a man of importance, for he was Superintendent of his hall of audienee), that Mir-soltan-aaly-qhan, who had been honoured with the gift of an elephant, was waiting at the gate of the hall of audience, and, should it be His Highness’s pleasure, would just shew himself from afar, make his bow of thanksgiving, and be gone immediately. To which the Prince consented; and that ceremony being over in a moment, he turned again to me, and asked me whether I had ever seen his elephant-office? My Lord-qhan, said he, I want to know your opinion of them. I answered that I had seen his elephants, and that they were numerous and of uncommon bigness and beauty. Well then, added he, you must look over them again, and choose any one you please, as I intend to compliment you with it. I, the poor man, on this compliment, got up, made a profound bow, and answered, “that the expressions with which he had been pleased to usher his noble present, were in my opinion worth a gift of his whole elephant-office; but that the riding on such an animal, required a certain state and a suitable retinue; and although I had been by the special favour of His Highness amply provided with an honourable subsistence, and was perfectly satisfied with it, nevertheless I did not think that my time for riding on an elephant was come as yet; and that when that time should be brought forth by his favour, it would be time then to think of elephants.” The turn I gave to my excuse was taken much notice of, and he smiled, but said nothing. Some time after there came intelligence that Ab8l-mans8r-qhan, Viceroy of A8d, was arrived at Banares, probably with a view to invade Bengal. Aaly-verdy-qhan upon this intelligence wrote to his nephew at P8raniah to march out with his army, whilst himself should set out on his side in his way to Azim-abad. Sáyd-ahmed-qhan intent on his preparatives, commanded me to raise a good body of infantry and cavalry. I answered that I would, but that as P8raniah was in a corner, and out of the high-road from Hindostan, none would be procurable, but people of P8raniah; to which he replied, that he had no objections to them, provided they should be picked men. The body in question was soon raised; but news came a little after, that Ab8l-mans8r-qhan had thought proper to return to A8d, his capital; so that the suspicions he had raised in Bengal, subsiding by his departure, the new levies were all dismissed, to the great discomfort of the Commanders, who after having wished for some war and some dispute, were now reduced to the necessity of making interest for their being kept in pay. But he kept only two-and-twenty Afghan troopers, who being excellently mounted, were reserved for his body-guards. As to myself, hearing of this general reform, I presented him a paper purporting, “whether it was not his pleasure that I should dismiss my own new levies also, which were numerous enough?” In answer to my question, he wrote at the bottom these words: “Why does His illustrious Lordship trouble himself about these matters? Let there be to-morrow a general review of his corps, and then their fate shall be determined.” The next day I carried all my people to the review. He looked at them all, but ordered that they should be kept in pay, and he moreover added the two-and-twenty Afghans to them; and as my corps was found now to consist of about eighty horse and about two hundred foot, he signed the review, and then turning towards me, My Lord-qhan, said he, I believe now that the time for your riding on an elephant is come at last, and that you shall have no objections to my presenting you with one. Casting then his eyes upon the elephants, he made choice of one, and presented it to me.

One day he heard by mere chance, that I had sent to my venerable father then at Shah-djehan-abad (and now doubtless in the assembly of the justes) a bill of exchange of two thousand rupees. Is that true, my Lord-qhan, said he, in full company? “I answered it was; and that as it was no secret matter, I made no difficulty to acknowledge it.” He replied: What, if you had given me notice of it, I might have taken a share in that meritorious action of yours. I rejoined, “that there was no need of his taking any share at all, as the whole of the sum originally belonged to him, and had accrued to me from his bounty; and that as to the modicly of it, my fortune being all of his own bestowing, could not be but known to His Highness.” He smiled, and turning towards my banker, then present, who was also his cash-keeper, he ordered him to charge the bill of exchange to his debit, and to refund the money to me. I got up and returned him my thanks for his manifold bounties. This favour was soon followed by another. There was a certain district called Serip8r, the rent of which was fixed at a one hundred-and-eighty and some thousand rupees; and he conceived without any application from me, and even without my knowledge, the design of bestowing the collection of that revenue upon me. With this view he pitched upon Radja Adjáib-ráy, his Prime Minister, who had been likewise Prime Minister to the late Séif-qhan, and sent him to my house. The Minister brought with him two Qhylaats, or dresses of honour, and also a gentleman of distinction, who had long been in the practice of renting and taking to farm, the revenues of Government, and amongst others, those of that very district. His name was Sheh-amanollah. The Minister speaking in his master’s name said: “That His Highness had devised that office, to put some emoluments in my way; and proposed two methods for insuring them: the first, that I should now put on the Qhylaat of investiture, and charge myself with the collection, after appointing for my deputy whomsoever I might have a mind to; the second, that I should put on the dress of investiture, but appoint the gentleman then in his company for my deputy; in which case the deputy would be responsible only to Government, at the same time that by a paper ready executed, which he shewed me, he would bind himself to afford me a pension of seven thousand rupees a year, over and above the presents and nuzurs usual at the two holidays, at the Des-hara and at the other customary occasions, as the New Year’s Day and others; he was likewise obliged to execute without hesitation, and as my servant, whatever commissions and orders I should occasionally give him.” The latter proposal being the less cumbersome of the two, I adopted it, as I perceived it was the donor’s secret inclination; and also, as by insuring me a small revenue, it freed me from the anxieties and bodily trouble of a collection. Such kindnesses and attentions, so far from being usual from lords to their dependants, are hardly to be expected from fathers to their sons.

One day that blessed man after having taken an airing in his favorite boat, took into his head to land on the other side of the river, his Palkey and Naleky remaining on this side; and as no vehicle was at hand to land him from the boat, and he was not accustomed to walk on the board which the boatmen usually stretch out from their boats to shore for landing people, he seemed at a loss how to manage upon so narrow a bridge. On observing which, I advanced bare-footed on the board, and stretched my hand, bidding him help himself with it, and come along. The Prince pleased with my having guessed his embarrassment, and with my giving him assistance so timely, smiled, availed himself of my hand, and came along; when being near the landing place, he stopped short, and said, My Lord-qhan, you have to-day rendered me a great service by stretching your hand. I answered, “that I thought otherwise; and that I fancied His Highness had rather taken me by the hand with intention to carry me higher.” The Prince laughed, and said: So I hope too, my Lord-qhan; and I hope it shall come to pass just as you have foretold. Nevertheless I must inform you that I reckon upon your assistance in the other world, as I do in this. Let the virtuous take example from this Prince; and let them observe how modestly he thought of himself. If you consider only the difference of age, he was about sixty, and I was only twenty-seven years old; if you consider the propinquity of blood, I was the younger, and he by much the elder member of the family; and if you consider the difference of stations and ranks, he was a glorious Lord of the rank of seven thousand horse, and I was no more than one of his servants; and yet with all this elevation, and all this superiority, he made it a point to speak always with modesty, and to oblige with the most becoming grace.

This Prince governed for full seven years the province of P8raniah with absolute power; but yet with so much equity and attention to the welfare of the subject, that both the nobles and husbandmen were exceedingly pleased with his government, and at all times ready to give it their applauses. Retired in a corner, at a distance from the great roads to and from Hindostan, he had no occasion at all either to wage war or to travel. So that his travels went no farther than Radjmahal, whither his uncle, who was very fond of hunting, used to repair almost every year; and sometimes he proceeded as far as M8rsh8d-abad, to see his brother, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, and his nephews and nieces, as well as the Princesses of his family. Nor did he ever set out from P8raniah in a military equipage, but on two occasions: the first time it was to oppose Fahr-eddin-hosséin-qhan, that ill advised son of Séif-qhan’s; the other, it was to chastise Shek-mahmed-djelil, Zemindar of P8raniah, who enjoyed a good estate and a great revenue, but who was undone for having listened to the suggestions of senseless, ignorant friends, by whose counsels he excited troubles, proved refractory, and demolished his own welfare and family. This event happened in the height of the rains; and although sober advice was given that ill fated man, it proved of no avail. He was a staunch Shya, and endowed with many valuable qualifications, as well as inclined to do meritorious actions; but in this, he mistook so far the line of conduct which became him, as to engage in a course of contentions that brought upon himself a number of evils and disgraces that ended fatally, and at last poisoned his existence. To put an end to the troubles, and to bring the dispute to a conclusion, I interfered in his cause by sending persons to soften his mind, and by interceding with his lord, with no other view, I can assure, but that of rescuing that senseless man from the evils that hung over him; but my efforts availed nothing; and Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, against his own inclination, was obliged in the height of the rainy season to put himself at the head of his troops in order to bring him under controul. The troops which that ill advised man had raised, being intimidated by the Governor’s presence, did not dare to stand by him. He found himself at once plunged in a sea of disappointment; and being abandoned by every one, he was overtaken by the claws of destiny, and taken with his family and children, and everything belonging to him. He died in prison; but as he had spent in supporting troops, the public revenues he was entrusted with, an immense balance was found against his family; and it was repeated from his son, Gholam-hosséin; but I can say that after Sáyd-ahmed-qhan’s demise, I interested myself so earnestly with his son and successor, that I prevailed upon that young Prince to release a youth equally innocent, and ignorant of business, as well as incapable to pay; and I engaged the Prince to send him back to his family estate, where he might usefully employ himself in recalling his dispersed farmers, and in re-peopling that half ruined country. And thanks be to God Almighty, that the above service was performed on my part, without any mercenary view whatever of either retribution or reward; and as I hope that the reader will forgive me that digression, let us now revert to our anecdotes about Sáyd-ahmed-qhan.

My younger brother, Naky-aaly-qhan, was in his youth of a hasty violent temper, that never minded times or places. One day after rising from Sáyd-ahmed-qhan’s presence, he came and seated himself in the hall of audience, close to the Prime Minister, Radja Adjáib-ráy, when there entered a Gentoo of the Catry tribe, a man very low-born in that very country, and who bore on his forehead a delineation of all the troubles and evils which he would cause one day. Young Sháocat-djung, who was created Grand-master of the artillery of P8raniah by his father in imitation of Seradj-ed-döulah, who had been invested with a like office at M8rsh8d-abad, had thought proper to make of this man his Divan and confidant; and the young Prince’s department being very considerable by the numbers of cavalry and infantry attached to it, Achant-ráy (and that was the man’s name) acted as deputy to his master in it. This gentleman came for some business, and wanted to take his seat between Adjáib-ráy and Naky-aaly-qhan; the latter forbade him; the other proud of his office, and of his influence with his master, paid no regard to him; and he spoke a few words in contempt of it. Naky-aaly-qhan incensed at his presumption, ordered a servant of his, that stood behind, to pull down that man’s turbant; and finding the servant not ready enough, he pulled it himself, and threw it on the ground. The man stung to the quick by such an affront, quitted the assembly, and went in that condition to his young master, to whom he made great complaints. The young Prince was shocked; and in the first emotions of his resentment he ordered the troops of his department to keep themselves in readiness. As Naky-aaly-qhan’s house was over against Sháocat-djung’s lodgings, from which it was parted only by a large street, some gentlemen of distinction, who were his particular friends, (and such was Mirza-rustem-aaly, and his brother, Mirza-háider-aaly, with several others), hearing of his danger, armed themselves, and ran to his assistance. Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, being soon informed of this tumult, sent for Laaly, the Colonel, a principal Commander of the artillery, who had a thousand musqueteers, and two hundred troopers under his orders, and he commanded him immediately to get his men under arms, and to go to Naky-aaly-qhan’s assistance. The officer answered “that as he might be opposed by Sháocat-djung, who was son to his Lord, he was at a loss how to manage.” Do, said the Prince, as you shall see done by; repel force by force. The Prince sent at the same time injunctions to all the Commanders attached to the artillery to forbid their moving to Sháocat-djung’s assistance, or their joining him in raising troubles, and that, under pain of being dismissed the service, and severely punished besides. The young lord hearing of their order, quitted the party, and repaired to the palace, where he appeared before the Prince, his father, with a most dejected countenance; and he complained heavily of the affront put upon him. The Prince answered every one of his complaints by a severe reprimand; and Sháocat-djung, both humbled and confounded at such a reception, expressed a repentance, and returned home very much discontented; insomuch that for a length of time, all intercourse ceased between him and Naky-aaly-qhan, both abstaining from speaking to each other. Some months after a wedding happened in Sáyd-ahmed-qhan’s family, at which both the young men were invited, and of course obliged to partake of the pleasures and entertainments of the feast. The nuptials lasted some days, at one of the last of which the Prince rose to get into his sanctuary, and he was already at the door, when, as if recollecting something, he came back to the assembly, and taking his son by the hand, he carried him to Naky-aaly-qhan, and said these very words: So much shyness and distance between brothers, is quite unbecoming; do you embrace each other, and do recommence to be friends again upon new terms. May God Almighty in His goodness forgive that worthy man and may He allow him to repose in a corner of His mansions of mercy! So much goodness and so much benignity I never heard of in the character of any Prince, nor of any lord constituted in power and dignity; nor has he ever been equalled by any one in these heavenly qualifications. May God’s forgiveness and mercy be for ever upon his departed soul! Amen.

We have said somewhere that Abdol-aaly-qhan, my maternal uncle, had been obliged to seek his fortune, as far as the Imperial Court; but it was his ill fortune to advance very little his affairs by such a long voyage, although he had all the qualifications requisite for attaining the highest dignities, and he was much befriended by the Vezir, Zulficar-djung, son to the late Sadat-qhan. He therefore turned his views towards Mahmed-c8ly-qhan, a young nobleman who was son to Mirza-mohsen, and nephew to Ab8l-mans8r-qhan; and he lived some time in the society of that young lord, who after the victory gained over the Afghans, (victory in which Nevol-ráy lost his life) became his uncle’s Deputy in his Government of A8d. But my uncle having found means to fall out also with this young nobleman, he came to Banaress, where he took up his abode. As I seemed greatly affected by his misfortunes and disappointments, Sáyd-ahmed-qhan had the goodness to interest himself so far in his behalf, as to write pressingly to Aaly-verdy-qhan, his uncle, entreating him to pardon the exiled Commander, and to recall him into his service. Aaly-verdy-qhan answered every part of the above letter, but mentioned not one word about my uncle; and Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, having lost all hopes from that quarter, thought proper in compliment to me, to write a letter with his own hand to that unhappy Commander, in which he condoled with him upon his ill luck, but accompanied the condoleance with an order on his banker at Banaress, for his touching five hundred rupees per month, four months of which were paid him beforehand. Where are to be found now such sorts of men? Where are they to be found in our days? Where should they be?

Verse:

He is gone now from us, and gone for ever! Nor have we any other way of testifying our gratitude for those numberless benefits which he had been endlessly spreading upon his people and his friends in general, and upon this disconsolate servant of his, in particular, than by remembering for ever his amiable character, and by pouring daily our fervent prayers to God Almighty, the pattern and spring of all goodness, that he may be an object of the Divine mercy. O God, take no notice, but of the good he has done; You know him better than we can. If he has done any good, give him the greater merit for it; and if he has been a sinner, turn your face from his demerits, and remember that You are the most merciful of all the merciful.^\(55\)

It having been in the decrees of divine Providence, that the columns of Aaly-verdy-qhan’s family should be undermined and thrown down, and that this revolution, as a chastisement, should extend directly, not only upon the incapable and worthless members of it, but also indirectly upon all the inhabitants of these once flourishing countries of Bengal and Bahar, and moreover upon all the inhabitants of Hindia (which have all been involved in the fate of their Princes); the catastrophe commenced by substracting from the reigning family those individuals which by their personal merit might have propped the nodding edifice of all that power and dominion; and by their talents in the art of government, might have employed one hand in crushing the disturbers of the public peace, and the other in insuring the happiness of these regions. But what is singular, that chastisement, and that substraction, took place in the very lifetime of the founder and architect of that empire and family; for it is certain that next to Aaly-verdy-qhan himself, his three nephews, those three persons best qualified for commanding to men, and for governing king-doms, were Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, and Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, and Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan; three men far superior in those respects to those three grandsons of his, Seradj-ed-döulah with his two brothers. Had any of the three former succeeded to their uncle, and taken full possession of the sovereign power, it is indubitable that the downfall of these once flourishing provinces, with the consequent depression and ruin of their inhabitants, would have not come to pass with so much rapidity and precipitation as we have seen; but it being otherwise predetermined by the decrees of divine Providence, and the course of heavenly bodies producing another series of events, those three persons departed this world under the eyes of the very man whom they were to succeed; so that, the sheets containing the diary of their lives were rolled up and set by in his very lifetime. Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan, the third of those illustrious personages, and a Prince who in personal prowess and capacity was so far superior to both his elder and younger brother, that he wanted to have the precedence over them both, preceded them in fact, and early departing this life, he took shelter in the mansions of divine mercy: a death that thunderstruck Aaly-verdy-qhan, his uncle, and made him say with a deep-fetched sob, that if dominion and sovereignty had been decreed to last in his family, Háibet-djung (for such was that hero’s title) would have not died. His death was followed by that of Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, who took the road of eternity, and treaded close on the steps of his younger brother. It is after all these losses, that the author of these recording sheets, becoming known to Aaly-verdy-qhan, and being often of his company, heard him sob, and lament himself, and say that Shahamet-djung’s death (meaning Nevazish-mahmed-qhan) affected him, not like that of a son, but like that of a fond indulgent parent, of some one that seemed to have nursed up the whole family. After this death, the old Viceroy was looking up to Sáyd-ahmed-qhan as his last resource; and I remember that the last letter he wrote to him was in these moving terms: Now I am entirely broke both by age and by sorrow. If I live a little more, I shall in the next winter (which was about six months after), repair on purpose to Radj-mahal; not on a hunting party, as formerly, but to feast my eyes for the last time with the sight of your person, which is now become my only remaining capital after all the heavy losses, and the ruinous bankruptcies I have suffered; and if I am not to live so long, then hold me excused; and he added these verses of his own, at the bottom of the letter:

Nevazish-mahmed-qhan’s demise was followed by that of his brother, Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, who himself became a traveller in the regions of eternity. That unhappy event took place in this manner: About two months after the demise of his elder brother, he by degrees commenced feeling an acute pain in his head, at a place that became prominent of itself; and he suffered and bemoaned, but otherwise was so healthy, that it never came into any man’s mind that he would die of it. I, the poor man, apprehended so little danger from it, that I obtained leave to repair to M8rsh8d-abad for condoling with my mother, who was inconsolable of Nevazish-mahmed-qhan’s death. I paid my respects to Aaly-verdy-qhan at the same time, was charged with some messages to his nephew, and I repaired again to P8raniah, where I delivered the messages, and found him still complaining of that headache, and suffering a particular pain whenever he had to roll his turbant round his head. A few days after he said to me, that he thought that applying leeches to his head would do him good. I answered “that losing some blood, and getting himself shaved, might afford him some relief.” Two or three days after I observed that he had fixed his mind on the leeches, and was insisting on their being sent for. I took the liberty to object again. He paid no regard to my reasoning, and he added that some women said that leeches were best, when their genitals seemed apparent. I again presumed to reply, “that what old women said did not deserve his attention.” That’s true, answered he, but yet, there can be no harm in the application. Finding him bent on having leeches, I kept silence; and as there is no flying from one’s destiny, leeches were sent for, and applied. A deal of blood and watery matter came out, but every part where an application had been made, began to suppurate; and he now turned towards chirurgy. By degrees the whole neck swelled, and put on a strange appearance; and it seemed greatly tumefied. In short the swelling increased daily, and it was thought that the tumour being full of matter, it would be proper to procure an issue to it; and upon this surmise Bend-aaly, the chirurgeon, was sent for, and ordered to open it. But fate having likewise blinded the chirurgeon, the man, without examining the part; without making any inquiry; without consulting the physicians, made a crucial incision upon the tumour in expectation of seeing the matter flow out; but not a drop appeared. He therefore according to the rules of his art, put on it a poultice of pounded green leaves of Nim^\(56\), and having bound the part with linen, he went away. At night some tokens of giddiness and swooning made their appearance; whereupon he took away the linen from his neck, and drank some rose water, and some other strengtheners; and his pain abated; but he was exceedingly uneasy. Meanwhile his friends, and principal officers and dependants had filled the hall of audience; and some had pitched tents in the very yard where they were present day and night, together with the physicians. I was myself sitting close to the curtain, that parted the hall from the closet; and I lived and slept on some bedding which I had sent for. Roh-eddin-hosséin-qhan, son to Séif-qhan, who had these many months become an ally of the distressed Prince, slept close to me, together with my younger brother, Naky-aaly-qhan, and the physician, Doctor-mesihi^\(57\) and some other men of the art. There were over against me two learned men of the first rank, who had just arrived from Iran (or Persia), and who having been presented to the Prince had been so graciously received by him, that there was no doubt of his intending to give them some office adequate to their eminent merit. These were Aga-abdollah, the Prince of the learned ones of Iran, who understood all sciences, and especially those of the speculative kind; and the learned and pious Séyd-mahmed-turbety. These two learned men were fond of conversing with me; and they passed every day some hours in my corner, putting up fervent prayers for the Prince’s preservation; but as there is no parrying the shafts of fate, the wound continued to look worse and worse, until at the beginning of the night on the 25th of Djemadi the first, some delirium made its appearance. The Prince spoke some incoherent words, as if he had been a Gentoo. This strange appearance struck Sheh-mahmed-djehan-yar, who although one of his principal military Commanders, was skilled in physic; for that art had been hereditary in his family, so as to be transmitted to him from his father; and as he was now assisting the physicians, he cast a look at me, at the very moment I was turning my eyes towards him. Not a word was uttered on either side; but he went away. At this sight, that throng of friends and persons of distinction, lost all hopes, it being concluded that the matter that had caused the swelling in the neck, had now struck up into the brain. At about the morning Death of Sáyd-ahmed-qhan. the Prince himself feeling something new within his person, ordered the prisons to be set open, and charities to be distributed in abundance. He had hardly sent the order, when the veiled ones of the sanctuary commenced weeping and sobbing; and it appeared that it was on account of his being in a swoon. It was now the second hour after day-break; and this being the moment where he heard the call of his Creator, he answered: I am ready, A.D. 1754. and departed towards the regions of eternity. It was the twenty-fifth of the first Djemadi, in the year 1169.

Verse:

Whilst he was in a swoon, the women of his household sent for the learned and pious men, that were in his service, desiring them to pronounce some prayers to make him recover from the fit. And on this, some of them went in, and observed that he was still taking in the two or three mouthfuls of air that were yet of his portion; but they returned immediately back, bathed in tears. Mir-abdol-hady, who understood the Arabic perfectly, and has left a book which proves that he composed in poetry as elegantly as he did in prose, went in with the others; and on casting his eyes upon him, he was so struck with the appearance, that he fell down senseless; some eunuchs and some women took him up, and brought him into the hall, where he remained speechless and senseless. Being put into a chair and carried to his house, he seemed to recover his senses; but about two o’clock the next morning, he expired. May God’s mercy and grace rest upon that worthy Séyd for ever! He was born at Dacca in Bengal, but bred and educated at Shah-djehan-abad, where he made a great proficiency in the sciences and the belle-letters; he was fond of poetry particularly, although writing prose with singular elegance. My blessed father, sensible of his merit, had engaged him to come to Azim-abad, for the purpose of educating my two younger brothers, Séyd-aaly-qhan and Ghalib-aaly-qhan, (to whom may this salute of mine he wafted); and as the Viceroy. Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan, who intended to marry one of his daughters to Séyd-aaly-qhan, had taken him into his family, the illustrious Séyd was likewise taken into his family, entrusted with the young lord’s education, and allowed a handsome pension. After Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan’s death, he was carried to Bengal by Séyd-ahmed-qhan, who had taken with him all those learned men of Azim-abad, whose names have been mentioned a little above. Thither he followed that generous Prince, and there he ended his days in that strange manner, which we have just seen. He was cautious of mixing or conversing with those he thought ill educated, being averse to their company; and he had such a relish for solitude, that he seldom mixed with others, but passed his time in reading, in meditating upon poetry, or in composing verses. He had a partiality for my conversation and company; and he used to compliment me with this expression, “that his case with me was upon a par with a poet who said to a connoisseur: Sir, but for yau, my poetry would remain without meaning.”

The body of Séyd-ahmed-qhan was washed and purified by the pious Séyd-saleh, a friend of Séyd-mahmed-turbety’s, who being freshly landed by the way of Calcutta, from the sublime gate of the tomb at Kerbelah, had just arrived at P8raniah, in company with the flower of the virtuous, the learned Aga-abdollah. They wrapped it up with a winding sheet which he had brought from that sacred tomb; and those two venerable men having invited a numerous assembly of faithful, then present, to join with them in prayers, they performed the office of the dead over his corpse; and then taking it up, they carried it by turns to Djaaferi-bagh, a pleasant garden, where they committed it to the earth. At the two brothers, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, and Séyd-ahmed-qhan, as well as their own uncle, Aaly-verdy-qhan, died within the year, at a few months distance from each other, the chronogram which was composed for the first, might as well serve for the two others.

As soon as the deceased was carried to the grave, his eldest son, Sháocat-djung, who had been a person of great weight and influence even in his father’s lifetime, came into the hall of audience, and pretending to be greatly affected and overcome with grief, he shed hypocritical tears, and, in token of desolation, threw his turbant on the ground. As I, the poor man, was reputed a person of consequence in his father’s Court, I thought it incumbent upon me to act a part in such a moment of distress; and taking it up therefore from the ground, I put it again upon his head, and rolled it properly; and then I made him sit down as chief mourner. After this I introduced the principal military Commander, Sheh-djehan-yar, with some other persons of distinction, who came to condole with him in the manner usual in Hindostan, to offer him their services, to profess their attachment to his person, and to desire his sitting on his father’s Mesned, as heir to his dominions and estate. This being done, I engaged the young Prince to dismiss every one of them with promises of favour; a moment after I sent for a tent, got it pitched in the hall of audience, and appointed it for his sleeping place during three days. The second day in the morning, I waited upon him, and I could see plainly that he did everything in his power to win my heart by his attentions; he observed that it would be proper to send a supplique to his grand-uncle; and he requested me to draw up the minute of it. His pleasure was complied with upon the spot; and the letter being transcribed fair, was dispatched directly. But seventeen days before his nephew’s demise, that Prince himself had fallen sick of that dropsical distemper which soon carried him to his grave; and what is strange, his nephew at P8raniah, unaware how near he was himself to his own dissolution, was bemoaning, and sobbing, and complaining of his ill luck in these very words: “Now that the time is come for my doing something, I am myself out of order.” So little apprehensive was he of his approaching fate, that he gave a dress of encouragement to his agent, and sent him to M8rsh8d-abad with messages full of kindness to the principal military Commanders, as well as to the Grandees, of the Court, and the principal citizens, recommending to him in the strongest terms to spare nothing in his endeavours to bring them over to his party. Good God! how ignorant, how unaware is man! But in fact this ignorance is one of the wheels that put in motion the pre-established order and government of this world; and were that ignorance less profound, and less complete, it is evident that the world could not exist; nay to all appearance there would be an end of all religion, and an end of all thoughts on futurity. The letter made a deep impression on Aaly-verdy-qhan. On reading the letter, he sobbed greatly and said: Now that I have lost my feathers and wings, there remains nothing for me, but to repair to my Maker. Having said this in a mournful tone of voice, he answered the letter by condoling with the children of the deceased, and by recommending to Sháocat-djung in particular, to live upon good terms with his brothers, and with all the members of his father’s family, as well as with all its dependants. The answer was accompanied by a dress of condolence for every one of the brothers, and with a patent of Governor of P8raniah, “for Sháocat-djung, but under condition, that he should preserve and cherish all his father’s friends, take care of all his dependants and servants, and love his subjects as his own children.” The letter was sent by his chief of the kitchin, Mirza-zin-el-aabedin. Sháocat-djung, who dreaded Aaly-verdy-qhan’s displeasure, seemingly complied with every one of the injunctions in the letter; and putting both his hands upon his eyes and head in token of cheerful compliance, he promised to obey every one of those messages brought him verbally on the part of his great uncle; after which, he made a handsome present to the messenger, and sent him back satisfied and well disposed. All this being over, he in a fovourable hour, ascended the chair of sovereignty; and as if he had waited only for such a moment, he made haste to give specimens of his profligacy and supineness. An elderly woman of the seraglio, whose name was Dái-c8il, and to whom the deceased, who was a connoisseur in merit, had given the title of Dana-annga or the phœnix of wisdom, resigned the service that very day. She was a great friend of mine, and seemed to be so greatly attached to me, that on the very day I resigned the service she sent for me, and hearing of my resolution to quit P8raniah, she did all she could to dissuade me from such a step. “I look upon Sháocat-djung,” said she, “to be my own child and son; and he is filling for me the place that had been filled by his father; but he seems to be disrobed of the garment of common sense. He is drunk with the wine of ignorance and supineness, and giddy with the fumes of youth and imprudence; nevertheless do not forsake him. Certainly you owe much to his father’s memory, and not a little even to me, although I should be only one of your feeblest well-wishers; but after all, we have both acquired rights upon your gratitude. I am then of opinion that you ought, out of regard to us, to take upon yourself the trouble of some office, such as that of Prime Minister, in order to inspect the affairs of revenue and Government, and to take care of the correspondence with the Emperor and with Aaly-verdy-qhan, as well as with the Grandees of Bengal, and all the men in office in this province. On the other hand, I conceive Car-guzar-qhan to be a man of importance, as being these many years at the head of our army. Do then join together cordially to prevent Sò8let-djung’s^\(58\) name and family from going to wreck.” “I answered this lady, that what she said, was reasonable and proper; but you know, added I, that Sháocat-djung will never consent to all that; and on the contrary, that he will listen only to the giddy and the profligate that throng about his person, ready to jump headlong into whatever is likely to promote the ruin of his family, as well as his own. All what you propose, is reasonable; but all that cannot be done without the master’s consent; and we are nothing but servants.” As that worthy woman was full of sense, she acknowledged the probability of what I said, and approved of my shyness. A few days after Sáyd-ahmed-qhan’s demise, I obtained a bounty of five thousand rupees for the learned Aga-abdollah, of whom we have already spoken, and another of a thousand for the glorious Séyd-mir-mahmed; and having put those sums in their hands, and got them dismissed with honour, I obtained leave myself, and resigned the service. The lady in question hearing of my final resolution thereon, sent me five thousand rupees, to bear the charges of my journey. She was a woman of uncommon understanding; and although low born, and from one of the lowest clans of Catec, she had so far acquired her master’s good opinion, as to be entrusted with the government of the whole of his household, in which she managed with the utmost fidelity the treasures deposited in her custody; and yet behaved with so much condescendence and so much inclination to do good, that out of thousands of officers, civilians, revenue-collectors, dependants, and pensioners, and servants, few, very few must be those that she did not oblige as often as opportunity served; and few those who in the difficult emergencies of their situations did not recur with fruit to her interposition. She knew how to manage in such a manner, as to merit her master’s approbation, as well as that of every person in the household; indeed of every man in office. She left an excellent character behind, and has been universally regretted.

To return to myself, I quitted P8raniah, and went to Carangolah, with intention to proceed to Azim-abad; when I learned that Aaly-verdy-qhan was dead, and that Seradj-ed-döulah, his grandson, had quietly been acknowledged in the three provinces of Bengal, Bahar, and Oressa. On this intelligence I thought it best to tarry at Caran-golah, in order to hear how the new Prince managed with the people of God; as such a knowledge might enable me to take my resolution accordingly, or as time and opportunity should point out. Meanwhile I heard that my two younger brothers, Séyd-aaly-qhan and Ghalib-aaly-qhan, and also my kind maternal uncle, Vehab-aaly-qhan, (which latter was of my age) had been banished out of the province of Azim-abad, where they all lived. This intelligence prevented my going to that city myself; and as the village of Caran-golah was not a place where one might pass the rainy season, fain I was to return to P8raniah, and to take my quarters again in the house I had quitted. And now to follow the order of events, the historian’s faithful pen must revert to Aaly-verdy-qhan’s demise, and give an account of Seradj-ed-döulah’s taking possession of the sovereignty of these rich provinces, and how this event has ushered the ruin of all Hindostan, by putting it in the power of strangers to possess themselves of the most extensive and populous provinces of that region. It is only after giving some idea of that event, that we shall resume in a proper place what concerns Sháocat-djung.

We have said that Aaly-verdy-qhan fell into a dropsical A. D. 1756. habit of body on the ninth of the first Djemadi in the year 1169. He strove for some time to ward off the evil by a total abstinence from water; but afterwards on observing that such a distemper, when attacking a person of his age, always proved incurable (and he was then in his eightieth year), he ceased to observe any diet, or to abstain from water, or to take remedies. Such a state of things could not but greatly alarm Biby Gahassity, his eldest daughter, who was now relict of his nephew, Nevazish-mahmed-qhan. She had this longwhile cantoned herself at Moty-djil, where on seeing how matters went, she had distributed elephants and lacs of rupees to the troops of her deceased husband, in hopes of engaging them to stand by her, against Seradj-ed-döulah. She received their solemn promises, and took their oaths. When reverses are at hand, they engage into such liberalities. It is reported that on it becoming public that Aaly-verdy-qhan was drawing to his end, some of the principal persons of the city fearful of what might happen after his decease, requested to be recommended to Seradj-ed-döulah, by putting their hand within his. The old man smiled at the request, and said: “If you perceive after my death that he has been for three days together upon good terms with his grand-mother, then you or any others may have a chance for yourselves.” So well did he know the man’s character. After having said these words, he lived to the Saturday following, which was the ninth of the month of Redjeb in the year 1169; and at five o’clock in the morning, he departed this life, and repaired to the mansions of divine mercy. Immediately after his departure his principal servants and relations assembled, and after having purified his body, and wrapped it up in a winding sheet, they took it up at midnight, and carried it, pursuing his own appointment, to the feet of his mother, which is entombed at Qhosh-bagh on that side of the river opposite to Moty-djill. O Lord! should you punish him, no wonder, for he is your creature, and culprit; and should you forgive him, no wonder, for you are the most merciful.^\(59\)

Aaly-verdy-qhan from his very youth shewed a serious turn of mind, averse from profligacy and debauch, and from every thing that savoured of drunkenness; nor did he seem to have much taste for such amusements as music and dancing, or for the conversation of women. He preferred to pass his time in reciting prayers, in reading the word of God, or in perusing some book of history; and he has affirmed more than once that he had never been guilty of fornication or of drinking wine; for he bore a mortal aversion to those two defilements. He always rose two hours before day-light; and after having gone through the usual evacuations and ablutions, he peformed some devotions of supererogation, and at day-break he said his prayers of divine precept, and then drank coffee with some choice friends. At seven o’clock he went out and sate in state in the hall of audience, where he listened to the representations of his military officers, of his civil officers, of all the persons in office, and of the Grandees of his Court, giving audience and a patient hearing to all comers whatever; and any one could speak to him as long as he pleased. Every one represented his affairs, and received such an answer as his case required; in general such a one as was dictated by goodness and a firm intention to oblige. This audience always lasted two hours, after which he retired into a closet, where he was attended by some persons who were to attend at that place, for instance, by some choice friends, and by his relations, such as Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, and also by Seradj-ed-döulah, if present. After that, he amused himself for a full hour with conversation, with hearing verses, reading poetry, or listening to some pleasing story; to which we must add some occasional orders, which he would give about some dish or other, which was always dressing in his presence at that time, to the care of which was appointed either some of the persons then present, or some person freshly come from Persia or any other country renowned for good cookery; for he was fond of good eating, and had a taste very nice and very delicate. Sometimes he ordered the meat, spice, and other necessaries, to be brought in his presence, and he gave his orders to his cooks, often directing them, and often inventing some new method of proceeding. Meanwhile the heads of office, and the gentlemen and noblemen of the hall of audience were in full attendance, to be occasionally introduced, whenever they had anything to say. As soon as the cooking and dressing was over, the butler presented himself with a number of qhóans or trays and tables covered with all kinds of dishes, and he spread a large napkin. The tables covered with victuals were sent to such of his friends, as he chose to distinguish; always adding some thing from those dishes which had been dressed under his direction. At dinner the conversation ran upon the good or bad taste of each dish in particular, reasoning nicely upon their several flavours, and taking himself a mouthful and no more, from every one. The dinner being over, his guests washed their hands and withdrew; and this way of never eating but with a numerous company of guest, was his custom. It was in general in a company of men; but now and then he chose to dine in the sanctuary, and then he had a like company of women, but not one of them a stranger, being all his daughters, grand-daughters, or nieces or relations. After dinner he retired into a closet to take a nap, at which time the story-tellers and bed-watchmen attended and did their office.^\(60\) At about one o’clock he was awake, and after the usual evacuations and ablutions, he performed his purification and his noon-prayers; and these being over, he read with a high voice a chapter of the Coran,^\(61\) and then performed his afternoon-prayers; after which they brought him a cup full of water, cooled with saltpetre, or with ice,^\(62\) according to the season, and he drank it off at a single draught; which single draught answered all his necessities, without any addition whatever, for full twenty-four hours. After this, the curtain of the room being folded up, a number of pious and learned men were introduced, such as that Prince of learning, the learned Mir-mahmed-aaly-fazyl, (may God perpetuate his honours!) Naky-c8ly-qhan, Doctor Hadi-qhan, the physician, Mirza-hossëin-sesevi, and another learned man from M8ltan, whose name I have forgotten. All these being introduced with respect, were honoured with a request to be seated. In general he attended to these learned assemblies in a hall set apart for that purpose. Over against his own Mesned, but on the opposite side of the hall, another Mesned was always spread for Mir-mahmed-aaly-fazyl, with a large pillow at the back of it, (that learned gentleman used always to come into the palace by the water-gate, that being the nearest). As soon as his Paleky had landed him at the rails of the terrace, which is on a level with the main hall, (a privilege granted only to three persons more, all Princes of the blood) and he had commenced ascending the steps towards the audience hall, which is not a small distance, Aaly-verdy-qhan used to rise, and to stand upon his own Mesned, waiting his walking in. When the learned man had advanced so far towards the hall, as to leave his slippers, and he had entered into the hall (and this was a vast spacious building), then the Viceroy quitted his Mesned and advanced some steps; and having made a respectful bow, the salute was returned in the same style by the learned man, who went and took his seat at the Mesned prepared for him. After his being seated, Aaly-verdy-qhan returned to his own Mesned, and resumed his seat; and then he sent him a small pillow, one of the four always placed on the right and left of the Prince’s Mesned. Immediately after, the Hoccas^\(63\) of Mir-mahmed-aaly-fazyl, of Naky-c8ly-qhan, of Doctor Hadi-qhan, and of Mirza-hossëin-susévi, were brought in, and presented to them. Aaly-verdy-qhan himself never smoked, but he drank coffee, and it was distributed round. Coffee being drunk, a pillow was placed before the learned Moltani, and then a Coran was set upon it; being one of those written by Sheh-mahmed, son to Yac8b-Calini or the Calinian. It was a copy of one of those exemplaries, which having been drawn up according to the rules of the Imamites, and then presented to the Lord of Command, who approved them with the word Caafi^\(64\) which he wrote underneath, were ever after reputed authentic, and called by that epithet. The learned M8ltany read one or two chapters of it, translating at the same time, phrase after phrase; and the niceties and difficulties in those chapters were occasionally elucidated and explained by the Lord Mir-mahmed-aaly the learned. Sometimes Aaly-verdy-qhan himself would offer a question, or ask about some particular passage; in which case he was answered by Mir-mahmed-aaly-fazyl. These conferences and readings always lasted two hours; after which the Lord-séyd rose, and Aaly-verdy-qhan having as usual advanced some steps, made him a respectful bow, and remained standing until the Lord had put on his slippers, and was advancing to his Paleky, at which time he returned to his Mesned, and resumed his seat. The learned men being departed, the chiefs of offices, the general intelligencer, and the rich banker, Djagat-seat, with some others, attended, and read or mentioned the news of every part of Hindia; or they reported such statements and revenue matters, as had remained from the morning audience; and this second audience likewise took up two full hours. Sometimes Nevazish-mahmed-qhan attended; and sometimes it was Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, if in town; and sometimes Seradj-ed-döulah. These being departed, the room was instantly filled by a number of facetious persons and other bonmots people, such as Mirza-shemseddin; Mirza-zin-el-abedin, the butler; Mirza-cazem, chief holsterer, and chief of the candle and oil-office; Mir-djevad-cooch-beghy; and the Hermaphrodite Mahm8d^\(65\) with some others of that stamp; and for about two hours together he amused himself with their craking jokes upon each other, and with their mutual satires. By this time it becoming dusky, the taper-bearers and candle-lighters presented themselves in order with their implements, lighted,^\(66\) as is the Hindostany custom, and from the farther end of the yard made their bows, and then repaired to their stations. It was at that particular time, that the Viceroy made his nightly-prayer; and the hall being cleared of men, and made womanish,^\(67\) his consort attended, together with Seradj-ed-döulah’s consort and some other Princesses of his family which came to see him; and as Aaly-verdy-qhan never supped, but only ate some fruit, a quantity of fresh or dried fruits with a quantity of sweetmeats was presented to him, of which he ate a little, desiring the ladies to partake of the entertainment; and in general he distributed to each her share. This repast being over, the ladies retired, and the hall being made manish again, it was immediately filled with the officers of the guard, the bed-watchmen, and the story-tellers; at which time he used to get upon his bed, where the latter lulled him to sleep. After having slept two or three hours, he would awake, and ask what hour it was and who was present? And being answered accordingly, he took another nap, waking and asking by turns three or four times every night; but at all times he was awake and up, two hours before the dawn of the day, to recommence that circle of evacuations and occupations which we have been just describing. He was so bountiful in rewarding his servants, and in obliging his Ministers, his relations, and all those that could approach him, that his character in that respect is almost beyond belief. He remembered every one of the friends and acquaintances he had ever had at Shah-djehan-abad, and such especially as had obliged him in his days of distress and poverty; and whenever he could discover any of these, or any of their children, or of their descendants, he never failed to send for them from that capital, and to make them such presents, or to promote them to such offices, or to put such emoluments in their way, as they had never so much as dreamed of. And when those he had enriched in this manner, came to die, he took such care of their widows, children, and heirs, as no man in these hard times, and none even in times past, ever took of his own relations. His administration was so full of lenity, and his attention so intense to the security and quiet of the subject, and of the husbandman especially, that none of them can be said to have been so much at their ease on their father’s knees, or in their mother’s lap; nor was there a man in office with him, without excepting his very menial servants, that did not make fortunes by lacs. For although he did not shew much inclination for such accomplishments, as dancing and singing, or for an intimate society with women, he had an inclination for all other kinds of pleasures and pastimes, and knew how to reward those that excelled in them. He understood arts, was fond of exquisite performances, and never failed to shew his regard to the artistes. Fond of the pastime of a witty conversation, he was himself excellent company; so far, as to be hardly equalled by any of his contemporaries. A prudent, keen, general, and a valorous soldier, there are hardly any qualifications which he did not possess; and few are the virtues which shall not be found to have made part of his character.

Singular instances of his prudence and foresight may be easily remembered to this day. About the latter end of his reign Nizam-el-mulk came to die, and his son, Nassyr-djung, having succeeded him in all his dominions, chanced to be killed by a conspiracy of the Afghans in his service, as he was marching against the French of P8lchurry. This was compassed by Muzafer-djung, who was son to his sister, and had come to an agreement with those strangers, by whom he was vigorously supported. But the new Prince being slain soon after, as well as the Afghan conspirators, he was succeeded at the time by Séyd-mahmed-qhan-selabet-djung, who by the assistance of these same French was seated upon the throne of Decan: revolution memorable which rendered M8shur-b8shi^\(68\) the man of the upper-hand, and put it in his power to write a very lofty pompous letter to Aaly-verdy-qhan, with the purpose of recommending the French of Farashdanga.^\(69\) This letter, although slighted, made in fact a great impression upon his mind; and as he knew with how sparing a hand Providence had bestowed on Seradj-ed-döulah his share of knowledge and prudence; and he was fully sensible of the manner he would govern the people of God, and upon what bad terms he was already with the Military officers, as well as how prone he seemed to fall out with the English of Calcutta; he used to compare his character and turn of mind to that of Nassyr-djung, and to assure in full company that as soon as himself should be dead, and Seradj-ed-döulah should succeed him, the hat-men would possess themselves of all the shores of Hindia. As I was myself in Seradj-ed-döulah’s service, and fully apprised of his turn of mind, as well as often in his company, and that of his grandfather’s, I remember to have heard that assertion from that Prince’s own mouth. Nor is my testimony a slight one; it will be supported by several persons, then present, to whom I shall refer; and in fact the prediction came to be verified just as his mind had foreseen. On account of this singular prediction, I remember that this Prince being then in the zenith of his power, his General, Mustapha-qhan, who had a boundless influence upon his mind, proposed to him to take Calcutta, and to put all the English to the sword. No answer was given to the proposal. The General brought it forward at another time, but with the support and recommendation of the Viceroy’s two sons-in-law, and no answer was given again; but as soon as Mustapha-qhan was gone, he said to the two advisers: “My dear children, Mustapha-qhan is a soldier of fortune, and a man in monthly pay, who lives by his sabre; of course he wishes that I should always have occasion to employ him, and to put it in his power to ask favours for himself and friends; but in the name of common sense, what is the matter with your ownselves, that you should join issue with him, and make common cause of his opinion? What wrong have the English done me, that I should wish them ill? Look at yonder plain covered with grass; should you set fire to it, there would be no stopping its progress; and who is the man then who shall put out a fire that shall break forth at sea, and from thence come out upon land? Beware of lending an ear to such proposals again; for they will produce nothing but evil.”

Account of a number of learned, or pious men, who lived in Aaly-verdy-qhan’s Court, or in his dominions—Seradj-ed-döula commences his reign, by striping and confining his own aunt, Bibi Gahassity—Cause of the war, which he declares against the English—Calcutta taken by him—General discontent against Seradj-ed-döulah—Account of Sháocat-djung, his cousin, resumed —Strange character of that young Prince—Wise advice given him by the author—Dissensions between the two Princely cousins —Extravagant letter of Sháocat-djung’s to Seradj-ed-döulah —He prepares for war—Is defeated, and slain—The author’s distressful situation—Seradj-ed-döula’s prosperity declines, on the famous Sabut-djung’s (alias Colonel Clive’s) coming to Bengal—Calcutta retaken—The Navvab surprised in his camp, close to Calcutta—Submits to a disgraceful peace—Informed of a conspiracy, he orders cannon to be planted against Mir-djaafer-qhan’s palace—War between the English and French, in Bengal —The English object to Seradj-ed-döula’s keeping a few of them in his service—Answer of Moosher Lass, (Monsieur Law) the French Commander, and his prediction—Mir-djaafer-qhan arms, and enters into a secret treaty with the English—The Navvab betrayed, and beaten, at the Battle of Palassy—Noble speech of his to his General—The latter proclaimed Navvab— Seradj-ed-döula flies to Radj-mahal—Is taken, and unworthily used—This sight affects every by-stander; and some officers want to rescue him—Mir-djaafer-qhan takes possession of the palace, where his son governs absolutely—Abominable character of that young man—Seradj-ed-döulah barbarously murdered, by his order—Affecting narrative of his death.

THE course of our history requires now that, before we part with Aaly-verdy-qhan, we give some account of the learned and pious men that lived in his Court and in his dominions; or who, coming on the report of his munificence, had just time to see him, before his death.

The foremost of them was the Moluvy, or Doctor Nassyr, a native of sheh-p8ra, and a descendant of Shems-eddin, the Complaint-promoter, whose tomb and monument are in great repute in the province of A8d. The Moluvy’s grandfather had quitted the place of his native country, to come and settle in that town, in the province of Bahar; and in his youth, that is, in the times of the Navvab Sáistah-qhan the Forgiven, he had been a disciple of Mollah-sheh-mahmed-Shirazi, a learned man, who after having passed some time in Bengal, had quitted India, and returned to his beloved country, which had been all this while the constant object of his regrets. The disciple, who was enthusiastically attached to his master, and to the sciences, quitted both friends and country to follow him into Iran; and such was his attachment to his studies, that although he was so distressed, as to travel all the way on foot, from India to Iran, he never missed a day’s lesson. Arrived in Iran, he attended to the lessons of the masters of that country, until he became himself a complete proficient in the whole circle of Sciences, especially in the speculative ones; such as Astronomy, Mathematics, and Algebra. So that become himself now a man of character and renown, he passed his days in Iran, in honor and affluence. He afterwards came to Cab8l, where he was employed as Second, in carrying messages to the Iranian Governors and Grandees of that frontier, as that employment had been lately declined by Mir-gh8lam-mahmed the Mehadian, a man of great eminence, and incomparable learning, who had been hitherto employed in those negotiations, and had more than once served the famous Emir-qhan, as a mediator in his differents with the neighbouring powers. Moluvy-nassyr, after a long stay in that country, returned to India; and having obtained from the Emperor a small Djaghir or freehold in the province of Bahar, his native country, he settled at Azim-abad, where the house he has raised is still standing, and was, according to his will, left to his grandson, Mahmed-hassen-qhan, who inhabits the same to this day.

The second of those eminent men was Da8d-aaly-qhan, better known under the name of Záir-hosséin-qhan. He was the eldest son of Moluvy-nassyr; equal to him in the practical sciences, which he had learned from him; and superior to him in the spiritual ones, which he held only from himself. At his father’s death, he was appointed not only his universal and sole heir, by a bill of sale in due form, but also acknowledged as his executor. Nevertheless, without availing himself of those deeds, he had the generous equity to make an equal division of the paternal estate between all the members of his family; and it was such as would have been otherwise required by the laws of God; keeping only such a share to himself as he might have been intitled to, in that case. After having in this manner arranged his affairs, he felt himself fired with a desire of visiting^\(70\) the Gate of the Pontiff of the World, of beholding the completion of Musalmanism,^\(71\) and of kissing the threshold of that door which is watched by hosts of Angels, that is, the luminous monument of the Prince of Prophets^\(72\) (upon whom, as well as upon his pure offspring, be salute and grace to all eternity!) After having enjoyed, to his heart’s content, that measure of happiness, after which his heart had so long panted, he returned to the place of his nativity, where he passed his time in assisting the Séyds and necessitous, and in serving his God, by obliging his creatures. In the number of causes daily brought before him for his decision, (for he was both a Casuist and a Magistrate) his sole view was to cut the different short, to the satisfaction of both parties; always contenting himself with his legal fees; and this small pittance, joined to his portion of the paternal estate, he managed with so much industry and economy, as to live honorably himself, whilst he proved a sure resource to the needy and necessitous, and especially to the forsaken widow, and the forlorn orphan, all which he constantly admitted, in great numbers, at his table^\(73\) partaking of a simple fare in their company, without pretending to live better by himself in private; and it would be difficult on that subject to give him all the praises he deserves; nor does the historian make any difficulty to acknowledge the impotence of his tongue, on that extensive article. We ought also to observe that on his return from having kissed the sacred and sublime thresholds, he altered his name from Da8d-aaly-qhan, which he had, to that of Zair-hosséin-qhan, which he assumed, constantly glorying in the alteration. After a glorious life of seventy years, he repaired to the mansions of Divine Mercy; and it was observed that at the moment of rendering the ghost, after a virtuous life in which he had been invariably serving his God, he had that adorable name in his mouth; and that he breathed his last in pronouncing the words, O God! may the Almighty’s mercy rest upon him for ever!

The third person was Mir-mahmed-aalim, one of the most virtuous and most venerable persons of Azim-abad, as well as a disciple of Mirza-móez-moosevi-qhan, the Poet. His knowledge was in much repute, and his compositions in much esteem and celebrity; but I cannot speak properly of them, having no personal knowledge of either.

The fourth was the Moluvy, or Doctor Mahmed-aaref; one of the most learned men of his time, and one of those men fond of corners and retirement. He was reported to have an excellent character; but he died in the first years of Aaly-verdy-qhan’s taking possession of Bengal, and he was entombed in the Castle of Azim-abad, where he had always resided. One of his disciples, called Shah-gurg^\(74\) or Saint Wolf, was a pious man, (seeking God), whom I have often seen. He lived in solitude and celibacy, at a distance from the world; and he spent his time in prayer.

The fifth was Mir-rustem-aaly, a man satisfied with his corner; but not destitute of science and erudition. This is, at least, the character given him by the persons that much frequent religious men. I knew him but little; but he passed for a man versed in the sense of the Coran, and capable of all the subtilities of explanation. He died at Azim-abad, in Ram-nárain’s Government, and lies buried close to the spot called the Monument of Mir-afzyl, the Cashmirian merchant. It was for this following reason: The merchant, who intended to embrace the same kind of life, and was attached to him personally, got him buried in that spot which he had bought for his own burial; and on his death-bed, he ordered that himself should be buried at his feet.

The sixth was Shah-mahmed-aamin, who lived in celibacy; a man much versed in the sense of the Coran, and so very intelligent as to be inferior only to an Angel. Intent, both interiorly and exteriorly, on the service of his God, he seemed to be brimful of the rays of the love of his Maker. In his actions and words he seemed to have no other view than that of concentring his ownself in the love of the Eternal being, and in a boundless attachment to the Infinite One. His words and actions made so much impression on the mind, that I, the poor man, having gone on the fame of his character, to render him a visit, felt within myself, on entering his dwelling such a disgust at the avocations of this world, and so strong an inclination for abandoning this borrowed habitation, and for addicting myself henceforward to the love of God only, that I was nearly taking my last resolution on that subject. He passed the nights in adoration and mortifications, always awake; sleeping hardly one hour’s time by day. His dwelling was endlessly thronged by visitors; but he was so intent on the object of his love, and he pronounced the ejaculation, “O my beloved?” in such a manner; he fetched such deep sighs, and drew from his breast such moving sobs; that the hearts of the by-standers were set on fire. He was not deficient in learning; but his master, Shah-mahmed, was famous at Azim-abad for miracles and prodigies. Although fully learned himself, he avoided explaining the higher sciences and difficult passages; for whenever his temper softened (and he was somewhat rough and passionate) he would read lectures publicly.

The seventh of those eminent men was Shah-adhem; and the eighth, Háiat-beg. They seemed to have intirely forsaken the world, and to be fantastical in their actions and characters. People recount miracles and great things of them; but the truth of this is only known to God.

The ninth was Shah-qhyzyr (or Saint Green);^\(75\) a religious of great distinction, who lived in Saad-p8r, a town of the district of Besara. He was abrupt, and sudden, as well as singular in his actions; but numbers of men of sense that used to frequent him, are full in praising his high character; and many attribute miracles and prodigies to him, in so positive a tone of voice and with so much firmness, as to overwhelm all doubt.

The tenth is the illustrious Séyd-mir-mahmed-sedjad, or Mir-mahmed, the Prosterner, who by his virtues brought in mind all the merits of his illustrious ancestors. Having once chosen to live as a monk or religious, he became a personage of high repute, although he did not value the world more than he did a straw. He was an intimate friend of my forgiven father, under whose auspices he had commenced a poem on what concerns the other world. He was a man of knowledge, understood many sciences, and had so many valuable qualifications, besides, that both tongue and pen would fail in enumerating them at length. We have seen a book of his composition. It gives an insight into the heights to which his mind had soared; nor can it fail to give a high opinion of his merit to any one that will peruse it. After my father’s departure for Shah-djehan-abad, there intervened a sincere friendship between this venerable man and the glorious grandfather of me, the most inconsiderable of mankind. They seemed inseparable. This worthy man intended to enter in the army, and to acquire the merit of fighting the infidels; but he died before he could execute his design, nor do I remember of the year of his death; else, I would mention it. May God have joined him to his pious ancestors, and may He have assigned him a place in his merciful mansions!

The eleventh was the grandfather of this vilest of men, namely, Séyd-aalim-ollah, the Tebateba, who descended from Hassen, elder son to the grandson of the Prophet, and came from the place of his burial;^\(76\) and were we to mention all his virtues and merits, the mention would require a volume by itself. Suffice it to say, that he arrived at Azim-abad, in the year 1155 of the Hedjra; and in the month of Shaaban of the next year, he departed towards the mansions of the Divine mercy. The mortifications and austerities he underwent, and the miracles and prodigies he operated, and of which I have been a witness with thousands of others, (because they were always performed in open day and in public) are all taken notice of in a piece of poetry of mine, entitled the Nature of the Pontife. Most of them shall be found there.

The twelfth is the glorious Shah-háideri, maternal uncle to my paternal grandmother. He was bluntly attached to the sect of Shyahs, and noways inclined to spare the opposite sect. Resigned in his fortune, and satisfied with his estate, he was haughty and overbearing to the proud, but full of modesty and deference with the poor and the humble; and here is a proof of it: Ecber-c8ly-qhan, father to the late Mirza-iredj-qhan, which latter was father-in-law to Seradj-ed-döulah, having engaged him by dint of intreaties and importunities to accompany him into Bengal, he settled at Bagalp8r, a town for which he took a liking. It happened at that time, that the famous General, Mahmed-ghó8ss-qhan, was ill, and of a distemper that grew to such a height, that all the by-standers, as well as himself, had despaired of his life. Shah-háidery, who hated the man’s sect, but loved his person, and highly valued his military talents, and heroical prowess, went to see him; and he bound himself to restore him to full health, if he would but embrace the tenets of the Shyism.^\(77\) The condition was accepted; and the dying man having recovered his health, became so attached to Shah-háidery, that he turned his disciple, with all his children, and his whole family; and always paid him the highest regard. Matters remained on that footing, until the General was slain with his master, Ser-efraz-qhan, at the battle of Gheriah; upon which intelligence, Shah-háideri quitting his domicile of Bagalp8r, came to M8rsh8d-abad, where he loaded Aaly-verdy-qhan with bitter reproaches, for his black ingratitude: reproaches, with he bore patiently; nor did there come any word from that Prince’s mouth, but such a savoured humility and submission.^\(78\) The pious man went into the field of battle, where after having exhumed Ghó8ss-qhan’s body, as well as those of his children, together with the few companions of his that had chosen to die with their heroical General, he carried them to Bagalp8r, where he committed the whole to the earth; and dying himself some years after, he was buried close to the General, his friend. Shah-djaafry, his son, with less bluntness of zeal, and more modesty, than his father, or his equals, lived in silence, in contentment, in resignation, and in the oblivion of the delights and incitements of the world; but nevertheless he was so much esteemed by Aaly-verdy-qhan, and by his children, that they prided in shewing him the utmost regard. Nevertheless he never departed from the humility of his condition, but lived poor and like a real monk; only whenever he intended to intercede for others, he then applied to the great ones, but it was in such a manner, as to shew he did not value their grandeur more than a straw. It happened at some time that Yessen-qhan, Fodjdar of Bagalp8r, had put an end to the pensions paid by that department to poor necessitous people, but had not touched to that of Shah-djaafri’s, which he used to send regularly; but which the holy man refused to touch, unless the pensions of so many needy people were restored at the same time; nor did he complain, or even make any application to Aaly-verdy-qhan who had so high a regard for him. But that Prince having been informed of the injury done to the necessitous of those parts, loaded Yessen-qhan with reproaches and curses, and ordered the pensions to be re-established on the former footing; and then only did Shah-djaafry accept his own. He was naturally of a firm, fearless temper. At the time when Mustapha-qhan, after having quitted the service, was marching towards Bagalp8r, some Sunnies, displeased with the injurious language which he endlessly poured against the Prophet’s three first successors, defered him to his Afghans^\(79\) as a bitter enemy of their sect; and it was reported that Mustapha-qhan wanted to call him to an account; but this report did not frighten him. On the contrary, when that General arrived at Bagalp8r, the holy man remained firm and immobile in his habitation, waiting patiently for the crown of Martyrdom. Luckily for him that this threatening evil vanished of itself. But his firmness was no less conspicuous in an affair, that did him a deal of honor. It was about the time of Seradj-ed-döulah’s nuptials, a Mussulman who had killed a consecrated bull^\(80\), had his hand cut off by order of Abiram, the Hindoo Officer at Bagalp8r, as Representative of Ata-ollah-qhan, the Fodjdar, then absent; and although the man went to Azim-abad, and carried his complaints to the great and mighty ones, no body took notice of him. Shah-djaafri, shocked at this neglect of justice, joined issue with the injured man; and a general sedition arising, Ata-ollah-qhan became very uneasy, as a multitude of people thronging at his door, wanted to break into his house. The Afghan Generals, Shimshir-qhan, and Serdar-qhan, were then encamped without that city, although out of service; and they seemed inclined to join the insurgents, in so much that the sedition was rising to a height; when the Governor presented himself in the middle of the people, and observed that Aaly-verdy-qhan would be injured by this fray, and incensed at this affair. Shah-djaafry answered: Pacify the injured Séyd, and I have nothing to say. The Séyd being sent for, the Governor pacified him, by promising him a sum of money with some presents, and by swearing to punish those that had maimed him; then only did the malcontents disperse to their homes. There are but few men, that could have mustered on that occasion, so much courage, and faith, and disinterestedness as he did. The truth is, that he was naturally fearless and intrepid; and people remember still, that Shah-djaafry being then a young man, and on a party of hunting, a tiger made his appearance; at the sight of which, Mahmed-c8t8b, elder son to General Ghó8ss-qhan, forbade his going nearer. The Séyd shocked at the order, galloped forward, and jumping down from his horse, he went close to the tiger, and gave him two or three strokes of his whip, to the amazement of all the beholders. The animal, instead of tearing him to pieces, turned tail, and skulked away, exactly like a mouse before a cat; the Son of the Lion of God^\(81\) pursued with vigour, and would lay on as often as his whip could reach the animal. A character so fearless, was neverthelss distinguished by much meekness, and a modesty exemplary. He used to receive and to entertain all visitors, partaking in common with them of one and the same humble fare; and in this modesty, as well as in his readiness at all times to support the complaints, and to promote the interests of the Faithful,^\(82\) without any view to himself, he had hardly any equal. He died at Monghir, whilst the Navvab Mir-cassim-qhan was residing there in the blaze of full power; but his friends carried his body to Azim-abad, where he was buried in a particular spot, which he had selected for that very purpose in his life-time. May God have done him the favour of joining him to the choruses of his pious ancestors!!

There were, besides those holy men, which we have been mentioning, numbers of pious and religious persons, in different parts of Bengal, all persons of character for sanctity of life and learning; but of whose life, I am not sufficiently informed to commemorate them properly here. One of these was Shah-gh8lam-aaly, in the village of Divrah, about the town of Arvel. Shah-bedi-eddin was another; together with others, who descended from Shah-sherf-eddin-yahya of Bahar. We must also mention Shah-cahilen, in Saher-seram, and Shah-mahmed-mah in Belia, a dependence of Monghir; and also Shah-nedjm-eddin, better known under the name of Shah-mó8lah, in the district of S8r8dj-gara, a dependence of Monghir, where he lived with a deal of ease and satisfaction, enjoying a small estate in land, the revenue of which he spent in entertaining all comers or travellers that would call on him. But Háider-aaly-qhan who commanded Aaly-verdy-qhan’s artillery, having commenced an acquaintance with him, that General made application to that Prince for his bestowing on the holy man the small Parganah or District of Cagra, in the dependence of Monghir; and the request was complied with, with the best grace in the world; so that the General one day presented him with the patent of it. Now that estate is enjoyed by his descendants, that is, by his wife’s relations, who all live comfortably upon the product of it.

There were in those times at Azim-abad numbers of persons who loved sciences and learning, and employed themselves in teaching and in being taught; and I remember ot have seen in that city and its environs alone nine or ten professors of repute, and three or four hundred students and disciples;^\(83\) from whence may be conjectured the number of those that must have been in the great towns, and in the retired districts. Amongst those that flourished in the town of Bahar, the Cazy-g8lam-muzaffer, better known under the title of Muzaffer-aaly-qhan, was personally known to Aaly-verdy-qhan, who appointed him to the office of Supreme Judge of M8rsh8d-abad. He was a learned, ingenious, well behaved man, who wrote well both in verse and in prose.

As to those men of merit and knowledge, who led by their particular destiny, quitted the regions of Iran to come to Bengal and into Hindostan, and who in particular settled in Bahar and Azim-abad, the first of those venerable personages was the Prince of the learned and of the illustrious, the Foremost of the renowned doctors, the Veil-drawer of the difficult and hidden passages, the Seal of teachers and institutors, our Lord and Teacher Mahomed-el-medoo-bed-aaly, who changed his name into that of Mohammed-hezin^\(84\) the delivered, (to whom may God have granted a high place in heaven!) He was one of the descendants of Shehtadj-eddin-hibrahim, better known under the name of Zahed-the-djilanian; and his fame was spread all over the world. The reputation of his virtues and learning was such, that his writings and compositions were as well known in India as in Iran; his virtues seemed to be an emanition and a manifestation of the powers of the Supreme Being; and himself a creature of a particular choice. I confess, in common with several persons far superior to me in every sense, that in this age he had not his equal. It is even probable that all over Iran and Arabia there has not been a man, so universally learned, as to be reputed a reservoir of every kind of knowledge, sacred or prophane, spiritual or corporeal. He was a standing miracle of the Divine omnipotence; had studied all the sciences; and had such a prodigious memory, that it is doubted whether in this last qualification he ever had his equal. His knowledge was so universal, that there was no proposing to him a question in any point of spiritual science or of practical knowledge, but he would answer it directly. What subtility could be pointed out in the whole circle of science, which he did not unfold, and amongst the mazes and depths of Astrology, in what part was he not thoroughly versed? In fact he was a wonder and a prodigy of his age. The Emperor Mahmed-shah, fully apprised of his merit, sent him several messages by the channel of Emir-qhan, and some other Grandees of his capital, requesting his being pleased to accept the office of Vezir, and to augment thereby the splendour of his Court. But as that worthy man thought it a shame to submit to the inconveniencies of this world, he declined the proposal; for being a man of penetration, he knew that the secret foundations of the Empire were tottering, and likely soon to fall down; and therfore he paid no regard to the request; else, whenever the government of a kingdom is the business, and the correction of a whole Empire is the question, men of those superior talents will never refuse to undergo the burthen of a reformation; nor will they think themselves exempt from contributing to the good of mankind; so far from this, that they will think such a burthen to be obligatory on their character. To stretch too far the threads of this narrative on his virtues and excellencies, would be superfluous in this place. His poesies, glowing everywhere with the sentiments of his heart, shall always bear a sufficient testimony of his eminent merit, and will afford a full information to those that never knew him personally. It was remarked of this illustrious man that he came several times to Azim-abad on his way to his own country of Iran, and always found himself opposed by fate. This is as much as we can say of him; for to mention his arrival and his several voyages with the obstacles he met with, would require much time, and answer very little purpose. Aaly-verdy-qhan, and his two sons-in-law, wrote him repeatedly, in the most respectful terms, supplicating the happiness of seeing him in their dominions. At each time he returned a polite answer, in which he excused himself; but the truth is, he never had any liking to their persons, or any inclination to live in their Courts. From Azim-abad he returned to Banaress, where for several reasons he took up his abode, and where he lived a long time, until finding himself grown feebler and incapable of travelling, he ordered a mausoleum to be raised for himself; and in the year of the Hedjra 1180, his soul winged its flight towards a corner of the Divine Mercy; and his body was buried in the monument which he had himself provided. One day^\(85\) as he was looking at his tomb-stone, he had a mind to write some words with his own hand upon it, and these were engraved, with two or three verses of his composition; nor will it prove amiss to remember them here. At the top is the blessed name of God; after which are the words: O Beneficent, your culprit stands before you; receive Mahmed-el-medoo-beaalli the Djilanian, son to Abu-taaleb, and grandson to Abdollah, the Pious. But the very day of his death he wrote this notice of himself in the following verses at the bottom of the stone:—

At the two sides of these verses, he added the following ones:

May God’s mercy be upon him!

The second of those eminent personages, that came from foreign parts, is His Highness Sheh-mahmed-hassen, who is equal to the second Protomartyr, Sheh-zin-eddin-aaly. To mention his illustrious pedigree, would prove as superfluous a task as it would be to point out the sun, a new thing, in the middle of a flaming day. He had not his equal in the knowledge of the Arabic language, in jurisprudence, and in the sense of the Coran, and of its commentaries. As to the metaphysical and profane sciences, he was little versed in them, nor did they attract much of his regard; but he was not a stranger to them neither. His inclination turned him towards theology, and sacred knowledge, expressing little inclination towards profane sciences; but he had no aversion to them, nor did he forbid them to his disciple; for he used to say that the ancient masters were partaged in their opinions, on that subject, and I acknowledge, would he add, my insufficiency in those two articles, and “at a loss how to determine between the two parties, betwixt their right or wrong opinions. God only knows which is best.” The Afghans having taken possession of Iran, and thrown everything into confusion, he retired with his parents and family to the holy tombs of Kerbela and Nedjef,^\(86\) and took up his abode there; but forced by poverty, he came from thence to Shah-djehan-abad, where he attached himself to Ab8l-mans8r-qhan. From thence he sent money to his family, and had it brought to him in Hindostan; and meanwhile he was proposed to inspect the education of the young Mirza-djelal-eddin-háider since Shudjah-ed-döulah, son to that General. But as Ab8l-mans8r-qhan came soon after to depart this life, and Sudjah-ed-döulah, turning giddy with the fumes of profligacy and absolute power, did not choose to listen to him any more, he quitted his Court, and retired to Azim-abad, where he was taken notice of by one of the Iranians of that city,^\(87\) who perceiving his poverty, made him accept a sum of money to be employed in trade on common risks. The man, little acquainted with merchandise, and little inclined to commerce, put the money in the hands of a third person, and took up his abode in the mausoleum of Saadet-qhan, father-in-law to Ab8l-mans8r-qhan. Meanwhile his agent in trade came from Gorock-p8r with a quantity of Sac8-timber;^\(88\) and as Radja Ram-naráin, who in appearance shewed him much regard, but in fact hated him heartily, was then building a palace, he was requested to purchase the whole quantity of timber at the common price, and to pay the money at once. Accordingly, the Radjah’s officers went, measured the timber, set their mark upon it, and for a length of time left it there, without further notice. The poor man sent the Radja word, requesting him either to take up the timber and pay for it according to the terms agreed upon, or to release it intirely, that any other might purchase it. The Radja, proud of his power and superior rank, made a very strange and very improper answer; and it was in these terms: “I fear neither the West nor the East, as you seem to imagine; nor have I bought your timber, but out of compassion; and you had better think so yourself.” The Sheh confounded at the message, answered in a note, that he had not been able to understand His Excellency’s message, “but as to what you have been pleased” added he, “to write of your having no fears.”

Verses:

After this affair, poverty took the upper hand of that worthy man. Luckily that a little time after, Aaly-djah-mir-cassem-qhan having seated himself upon the Mesned of the sovereignty of Bengal, and established himself fully in the possession of the three provinces of Bengal, Bahar and Oressa, he was pleased to call me from Radja Ram-naráin’s service into his own, as we shall mention subsequently, and to put it in my power to procure him from that Prince a noble pension, which enabled him to repay his creditors. However, he did not long enjoy that state of affluence; and in a couple of years more, his last hour being come, he was interred in that spot of ground which had been bought by Mir-cassem-qhan, and is close to the monument of Saadet-qhan’s father. Doctor Ab8l-cassem, his disciple and friend, out of regard to his memory, and out of respect to his tomb, built himself a house close to it. It is true he was a Cashmirian indeed;^\(89\) but yet he proved to be a man of excellent qualifications. So that after having honourably and virtuously lived in that house for a number of years, he departed this life last year, that is, in the 1780-81. year 1193 of the Hedjra, and repaired to the mansions of the Divine forgiveness. He was buried close to his master and teacher, and left behind a character of a good-natured man, equally desirous of serving God, and of obliging his creatures; acquainted with the Arabic, with jurisprudence, with sacred law, and with its explanations and commentaries; and whose main scope after God’s service, was to be useful to men, being himself a man of excellent qualifications. He died suddenly the 18th of Ramazan, as he was breaking his fast in the first part of the night,^\(90\) and he was universally regretted. May God receive him in the arms of His mercy!

After so many deaths, none remains from amongst those virtuous men of former times, but two persons; and it is for their sakes doubtless that blessings are still showered down upon, earth from heaven; and it is these few who distribute still as much as they can afford, the sealed liquor of knowledge and science to the thirsty creatures of God. The first of these two is the glorious Séyd, that token of the beams of the Divinity, the discoverer of the subtilities and difficulties of the eternal science Séyd-mahmed-aaly, (the cooling waters of whose virtues and learning may God Almighty render perennial for my particular benefit; and as well as that of all the Believers). His father was a native of Iran; but himself was born in Háider-abad, one of the two capitals of Decan, where his father was no sooner arrived than his wife was brought to bed of a son. The father, intent on improving the mind of his child, carried him back to Iran, to have him educated there; and the boy being early initiated in the rudiments of knowledge, took such a liking to learning and to learned men, that in order to push his studies, he attached himself to the complete doctor and excellent teacher, our lord and teacher Mahmed-sadyc-sistani. He got his name inscribed amongst his disciples, and applied himself intensely to the business of sounding all the depths of knowledge, and of unfolding all the subtilities of science; nor did he ever part with that illustrious master, so long as he lived; but continued to increase his acquisitions, until by intense application and gradual labour, he arrived at the utmost height of science; and now he is famed for universality of learning. In the science of theoretical and practical physic especially, he is reputed to have not his equal. With all his merit, and all his knowledge, he was in imitation of all the learned men, his predecessors, fond of retirement, and obscurity, passing his time in perusing the works of ancient masters; nor was he drawn out of his retirement, but by the evils that poured at once upon his country. His master died during the siege of Isfahan; and his father retired to the mansions of Divine mercy. Meanwhile, the country of Iran^\(91\) becoming a scene of oppression and troubles, and a variety of revolutions succeeding each other, he remembered his native country of India, and resolved to return thither. After his arrival in Bengal, he lived some days at P8raniah; but in a little time he thought proper to quit that country, as Séif-qhan had some abruptness in his character, as well as some profligacy in his morals. Form thence he repaired to Azim-abad, where he met Abdol-aaly-qhan, the poor man’s paternal uncle, who thinking himself honoured by such a guest, received him generously, and undertook to support him with decency. However, as occasions and opportunities to serve him did not offer, and he wished for an independent subsistence, he quitted Azim-abad, and repaired to A8d and Lucknow, where he remained a long time; until he was invited over by Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan, Governor of Azim-abad, who wrote him pressing letters on that subject. The worthy man, who took those invitations to be so many tokens of a return of good fortune, repaired to Azim-abad, where the Governor no sooner heard of his being near, than he sent some persons of note to bring him over; and he received him with the utmost distinction, making him several presents; for he thought it an honour to settle upon him a noble pension, as well as to oblige him in every thing in his power. This state of things lasted until that worthy Prince was murdered by Shimshir-qhan; at which time the Séyd’s house was plundered, and himself reduced again to poverty; but hearing that Aaly-verdy-qhan was arrived at Mongher, he, like the Prophets of old, fled from a land of oppression, and took shelter in the Bengal Army, where the Viceroy looking upon his august arrival as something auspicious to himself, and as something that announced success and victory to his arms, received him with distinction, and settled a plentiful pension upon him, which was always regularly paid; nor did he ever abate anything from the kindnesses and attentions shewn him at first. But the Séyd himself, fired with a desire of seeing the completion of Mussulmanism, and visiting the monument of the Prince of Men, and kissing the venerable threshold of the First of Pontiffs,^\(92\) (upon whom be grace for ever!) took a journey thither by sea, and having enjoyed the happiness for which he had panted so long, he returned to Bengal where he found the Viceroy dying, and Seradj-ed-döulah disposing of every thing. The new Prince, with a petulance that became his character of ignorance and profligacy, instead of continuing to use with distinction so worthy a man, offered him indignities; he ordered him to quit the apartment where he lived in the palace, and this too without allowing him a moment’s respite. The poor man confounded at the suddenness of the order, was at a loss how to account for it, and how to dispose of himself at so short a notice; when he was succoured by Providence. Hassen-reza-qhan, son to one of Hadji-ahmed’s daughters, hearing of that worthy man’s being turned into the street, ran on foot to the spot; and although not certain himself of his own fate, which his attachment to Nevazish-mahmed-qhan had rendered doubtful, and Seradj-ed-döula’s levity and profligacy, precarious, he engaged the worthy man to take shelter in his own house; and a few days after, he made him present of a dwelling and a spot of ground attaining to his own, where he took up his abode, and where he lives to this day; it is on the water side. It is observable that this nobleman, who was then the flambeau and light of his family, had exposed himself the lion’s jaws by so noble an action. But the Divine Mercy, in return for it, protected him from the tyrant’s resentment in a peculiar manner; else, what he had done was full of danger and peril; for the tyrant heard of it, and Hassen-reza-qhan came to think so himself. Seradj-ed-döulah is now gone. He has disappeared from the face of the earth, after having received a full measure for what he had done; but the memory of this noble action shall illustrate the page of history, and remain recorded for ever.

Verse:

Thanks are due to the Almighty God, that the learned man is still living to this day, (it being the month of Shaaban of the year 1194)^\(93\) and is spending his time in collating books, confronting authorities, explaining the Scriptures, reading lectures upon sciences, and shewing the influence of his learning and virtues over the whole city of M8rsh8d-abad. He is assiduously attended by Hassen-Reza-qhan and his children, by Mahmed-hosséin-qhan, by Doctor-haddy-qhan’s son, and by numbers of the most distinguished persons of the city, who all resort thither to reap the benefit of his vivifying breath. May God continue to stretch the shade of that illustrious Séyd’s person over the heads of his servants and adorers! Amen.

The second of those two illustrious men, which remain to us from the former times, is the Prince of those that fear God, and are attached to the rights of his Pontiff, the Cream of the Learned in the true Science, Hadji-bedi-eddin (Whom God may long conserve at the head of the Mussulmanism, that we may long refresh our thirst at the cooling waters of his virtues and learning!). He was born in the district Sarun, about Azim-abad, and is renowned amongst those pious men, who fearing God, live retired; but with honour and decency. After having acquired a knowledge of the sciences, he resolved to spend his days in the service of his God, and in subduing his flesh. For this purpose he attached himself to Qhadja-mahmed-djaafer, the forgiven,^\(94\) who was a Religious of distinction and fortune; in whose service he remained for a long time, as his friend and as his disciple; and where he acquired such an intense love for the house of God,^\(95\) and for the tombs of the illustrious martyrs, that he joined society with Hadji-ahmed-aaly, son-in-law to Moluvy-nassyr, the forgiven, and made haste to perform his pilgrimage, and to visit the sublime gates. On his returning from thence, he went to kiss the venerable Rezevian threshold (on which be grace for ever!); and after having enjoyed that happiness, he returned to India, where he now lives with his children and family in Mustapha-abad, a village of his wife’s purchasing. He is solidly pious, deeply versed in the Coran and its commentaries, as well as in jurisprudence, and in all the matters relating to faith. Although noways a stranger to the prophane branches of knowledge, the sublimest doctors reckon him one of their number; and the forgiven Sheh-mahmed-aaly paid him a great deal of regard, and used to say, that there was but one Azim-abad in India, and but one Hadji-bedi-eddin. One day as the Hadji, in his way from Banares to his place of residence, had advanced to Azim-abad merely to see the venerable Shah; the latter conducted him to his very door, where he made a fervent prayer for him. The Hadji passes whole days and nights in prayer; nor is it known that he ever missed the night-prayer called Tehedjud or watching. His time was regularly divided; but with so much vigilance upon himself, that no man living can accuse him of having done an action contrary to law, or unworthy of his age. He is now in his eightieth year, and regrets that whilst not one of the Imams or Pontiffs (on whom be grace for ever!) has arrived at such an age, his own life should have been protracted to such a length. May God conserve so worthy a man, with all those that resemble him, that they may bring down the blessings of heaven upon earth, and refresh our remembrance of those that have preceded him in the paths of piety and virtue!

After such a digression in behalf of science and piety, the thread of our history requires that we should return to Seradj-ed-döulah. That young Prince having taken possession of the sovereignty of Bengal, Bahar, and Oressa, spent some time in his mourning, and then took his seat on the throne of dominion Seradj-ed-döulah commences his reign by striping and confining his own aunt, Biby Gahassity. and command. The first operation of his government was that of ordering a number of his forces to march to Moti-djil, with injunctions to bring his aunt, Biby Gahassity, from thence, and to confine her in some other place; after which the Commanding officer was to seize every thing belonging to her, jewels, money, as well as furniture, and to carry it to his own treasury. It was then that the silly woman found the consequence of having so liberally distributed her money. The Commanders and troops, who had, some time before Aaly-verdy-qhan’s demise, received so much gold and so many presents from her, under solemn promises of fighting for her cause against Seradj-ed-döulah, now finding not in themselves any stomach for fighting at all, had already retired to those places of shelter which they had purchased with her money; and the Commanders being already gone, soon were followed by the multitude; so that there remained with her but a small number of men; who no sooner saw themselves invested, than they seemed confounded, and like men that had lost their wits. Mir-nuzur-aaly^\(96\) was as much frightened as any other. This man who had been the author of those schemes of resistance, and who cut so great a figure in the heart of that Princess, as well as in her household, no sooner saw himself surrounded, than being out of his mind as well as others, he engaged in his cause by large presents, two Commanders of character who interceded in his behalf with the new Prince, and found means to procure his escape. These were Dost-mahmed-qhan and Rehem-qhan; but every thing found in the house of that Princess was registered, and sent to the public treasury; and that short-sighted woman, who instead of hating her nephew, ought to have considered him as her own son, received in that day her just retribution, for her having consented to Hussëin-c8ly-qhan’s unjust death; and for having been guilty of an infinity of infamous actions, with which she had dishonoured her character and family. She was disrobed of her rank and honour, striped of her wealth, and put under confinement. Rabia-begum, her sister, had on her side full reason to be frightened; but she escaped with little hurt, by the means of her daughter, relict of Ecram-ed-döulah, who had been brother of the reigning Prince.

This expedition against Moti-djil was followed by very great changes at Court. Mir-djaafer-qhan, who had enjoyed these many years the office of Paymaster-General of the forces, lost his office, which was bestowed on a new man, Mir-meden, a gentleman sent for purposely from Djehanghir-nugur-dacca, where he was one of those attached to Hassen-eddin-qhan, nephew to Hueséin-c8ly-qhan. Mohun-lall,^\(97\) Divan to Seradj-ed-döulah’s household, was appointed Divan-General, and Prime Minister, with full power over every branch of administration; the title of Maha-radja, or Great Prince, was added to the investiture, together with a kettle-drum, a fringed Paleky, and the grade of five thousand horse; and so much trust was reposed in that man, as well as so much power lodged in his hands, that the Grandees and Commanders, who had already conceived a dislike to the new Prince, on account of his levity, and his profligacy, as well as his harsh language, and the hardness of his heart, finding themselves subjected to those two new men, and especially to the latter, whose arrogance they could not bear, now set no bounds to their discontents; and every one of them sowed in his breast the thoughts of getting rid of so improper a Ruler; in so much that none remained attached to him, but a few young men, as profligate and as giddy as himself, all of whom had been suddenly raised to power and influence by his means. For as to the principal men in the city and army, every one of them, shocked to see such a man on the throne, were only intent on finding out the means of overturning his power, whether by art, by force, or by treason. And soon fortune favoured their wishes.

Seradj-ed-döulah had, a little after his accession to the throne, Cause of the war which he declares against the English. conceived in his heart the design of wrenching the country of P8raniah from the hands of Sháocat-djung, his own cousin, son to the late Sáyd-ahmed-qhan; and with this view he had repaired to Radj-mahl. Such a sudden arrival threw Sháocat-djung, as well his favourites and Ministers into dismay. They were seized with a panic; and as he did not trust his Ministers as yet, he turned himself towards the religious and pious men of that city, whose prayers he requested, to the end that the imminent evil might be averted, and Seradj-ed-döulah might alter his mind, and return to his capital. But whilst Sháocat-djung was thus employed, news came to Seradj-ed-döulah at Radj-mahl, that Kishun-bohl8b, son to Raja Rahdj-b8llub, heretofore Divan to Nevazish-mahmed-qhan, had given the slip to the guards that had been sent to Djehanghir-nugur-dacca to seize him, and had made his escape to Calcutta, where he was protected by Mr. Drake, the chief man of that town.^\(98\) On hearing this, Seradj-ed-döulah gave up his design against Sháocat-djung, and returned to M8rsh8d-abad; where, after writing many sharp letters and reprimands to Mr. Drake, the messages and literary correspondence ended in a declared war; and Seradj-ed-döulah assembled an army against Calcutta. But this Prince, whose head was so much disordered by the fumes of pride and ignorance, as to commit an infinity of errors, continued, even after having declared war, to welter in the miry eddies of presumption, levity and insolence. He neglected, and daily insulted those ancient Commanders, that had served so faithfully and so bravely, Aaly-verdy-qhan, his uncle; so that intimidated now by his grandson’s character and foul language, they did not dare to open their mouths, or to take breath in his presence. Most of them, shocked at the dishonourable expressions made use of in speaking to them, and incensed at the insolence of the upstarts that had taken possession of his mind, were so far from offering advice upon the posture of affairs, or upon the manner of proceeding in this expedition, that they were in general ill-intentioned, and wishing to see its miscarriage, as well as their Ruler’s downfall; and whilst himself, on his side, made it a point not to ask any one’s opinion; on the other, those he consulted (and these were no other than those which he had lately promoted), being most of them incapable and inexperienced, did not choose to mention in his presence any advice that might shock his sentiments, and thereby endanger the power and authority to which they had been so lately raised. As for himself, he was ignorant of the world, and incapable to take a reasonable party, being totally destitute of sense and penetration, and yet having a head so obscured by the smoke of ignorance, and so giddy and intoxicated with the fumes of youth and power and dominion, that he knew no distinction betwixt good and bad, nor betwixt vice and virtue. His imprudence was so enormous that, in the middle of a military expedition, he would set daggers in the hearts of his bravest and ablest Commanders, by his harsh language, and his choleric disposition. Such usage naturally rendered them regardless, and utterly neglectful. Else, this dispute with the English might have been terminated by a few words in a conference, by the least of his Ministers and Commanders, without it becoming necessary to recur to force and to war. But it having been decreed by Providence, that the guilty race of Aaly-verdy-qhan should be deprived of an Empire that had cost so much toil in rearing; of course it was in its designs that the three provinces of Bengal, Bahar, and Oressa should be found to have for masters two young men, equally proud, equally incapable, and equally cruel, Seradj-ed-döulah, and Sháocat-djung; in consequence of their behaviour, equally cruel and thoughtless, smoke was already seen to rise from out of Aaly-verdy-qhan’s generation and house. In one word, Seradj-ed-döulah, after having given his orders for assembling an army and a field-equipage, set out at the beginning of Ramazan, on that ill concerted, ominous expedition of his own contriving; and without consulting any one, he by hasty marches arrived in that field which destiny had sown with thorns and evils for his family. The English being certain now, that Seradj-ed-döulah wanted to go to war with them, resolved, although unprepared for such an attack, to stand to their defence; they shut up some streets of their town, fortified some houses stronger than the others, prepared their ancient factory, and bravely waited for the enemy. Seradj-ed-döulah, who had a numerous artillery, and as numerous an army, soon took possession of those fortified outposts. In a little time, and without much trouble, he soon became master of the English town; and Mr. Drake, finding that matters went hard with him, abandoned everything, and fled, without so much as giving notice to his countrymen. He took shelter on board of a ship, and with a small number of friends and principal persons, he disappeared at once. Those that remained, finding themselves abandoned by their chiefs, concluded their case must be desperate; yet most of them were impressed with such a sense of honour, that preferring death to life, they fought it out, until their powder and ball failing at last, they bravely drank up the bitter cup of death; some others, seized by the claws of destiny, were made prisoners. The capture of the factory was followed by an universal pillage. The Company’s warehouses, and the dwellings of the principal English, Gentoo, and Armenian merchants, all of which were replenished with an infinite quantity of goods and money, were plundered by the vilest part of the army; nor did Seradj-ed-döulah reap any benefit from so much wealth in merchandise and money. This event happened in the twenty-second day of the menth of Ramazan, A. D. 1746. in the year of the Hedjra 1169, just seventy-two days after Aaly-verdy-qhan’s demise. Mr. Watch (Watts), Chief of the factory at Cossimbazar, with a few others from the town of Calcutta, were made prisoners, and kept in confinement.

To all appearance it is in this affair that some Bibies,^\(99\) amongst the women of the English, fell in the hands of Mirza-emir-beg. This was a gentleman attached to Mir-djaafer-qhan, one of the Generals of the army. The Mirza, with all the abstinence and reserve that became a man of education and honour, kept them decently and untouched, but in secret; and at night, he informed his master of the whole matter, who gave him a Bhovaliah^\(100\), or swift boat, in which he put the Bibies, and let his boat drive, as if by accident, with the stream. Being soon got past the army guards, he rowed with vigour, and in a little time he arrived at twelve cosses below, where Mr. Drake’s ship lay at anchor. There he delivered the Bibies; and these ladies having rendered an honourable testimony to Emir-beg’s modest behaviour, made such an impression on their husbands, that the latter, although nearly destitute themselves, collected some jewels, to make him a handsome present, in acknowledgment of his generous conduct; but it was refused by the Mirza, who said to one of them: “Gentlemen, what I have done, was not for the sake of a present; for as you are a chief man in your nation, and a man of distinction and sentiments, so I am a gentleman in my own nation, and a man of honour and humanity. I have done nothing but what was required by a sense of honour; and what might entitle me to your remembrance.” After saying this, he got into his boat, and rowing all night, he rejoined his master before day-break. And really what he had done is no more than what ought to have been expected from a man of honour; for such ought to be the actions of gentlemen. As to those men who style themselves Mussulmen, and have laid their hands upon the properties and honour of other people, their actions are no better than so many suggestions of the Demon of Concupiscence, and so many illusions of the Devil, their prototype^\(101\) and master; and they are such indubitably, although their rulers should pretend to derive their pedigree from the successors and heirs of the Prince of Prophets, and should fancy that they are actually armed and fighting in the cause of God. Vain are those pretensions of theirs! For their acions prove indubitably that they are attached solely to this world; there being an evident difference betwixt the works of the just, and those of such worldly-minded men as we whose only scope and aim is this world, and only this world. The difference is indeed indisputable and amazing.

Verses:

Doubtless were the Prophet himself or the Prophet’s heir, to come into the world again, whatever they should command would be obligatory on a Mussulman, and would require his submission and obedience; but in the Pontiff’s absence, or that of his Prophet’s, self-defence only becomes our right; by which it is meant, that if any one should attack our life, honour or property, and injury is not otherwise to be prevented, we have then a right, nay we are obliged to repel it by whatever means are in our power. This unquestionably is lawful to us; but not, that out of ambition and covetousness, we should, on those accounts, expose to imminent danger both ourselves and the People of God. Accursed and destroyed be the house of those faithless Muftees^\(103\), who by their shameful answers and disgraceful sentences, have plunged a world of Unfortunates into a sea of evils! But destroyed it has already been. God, our Lord, preserve us, as well as all the other Faithful, from the wickedness of such men, as put us in fear of demons, and of man^\(104\).

But to return to our history, Seradj-ed-döulah, after having passed some time at Calcutta, in beholding the destruction of houses, and the desolation of numbers of its innocent inhabitants, as well as in completing some other affairs, which he fancied to be very advantageous and proper, at last set out for his capital, where he arrived in full health. He had left for the guard of his new conquest a body of eight or nine thousand foot, and five thousand horse, the whole, as well as that town, under the command of Manic-chund, hitherto Divan to the Radja Bardevan. This Governor was a man, presumptuous, arrogant, destitute of capacity, and wholly without courage, as it did appear evidently enough at Bardevan, when he fled with all his might, on seeing Aaly-verdy-qhan surrounded on a sudden by the Marhattas. It was after such an experiment that Manic-chund was entrusted with so extensive a command; and it was after making so insulting a choice, that he went on disobliging and shocking his principal Commanders, such as Mir-djaafer-qhan, and Rehem-qhan, and especially Omer-qhan, an old officer, whose two sons, Selabet-qhan, and Dilir-qhan, were soldiers of merit, and as well as of old standing. He ill used Radja Do8llobram also, as well as many others, all Commanders of character, all deserving the utmost regard, and all thoroughly estranged from him by his harsh language, and his shocking behaviour; nor were the principal citizens of M8rsh8d-abad better used, Djagat-seat especially. General discontent against Seradj-ed-döulah. All these were tired of living under such an administration, and wished no better than to be rid of such a government, by Seradj-ed-döulah’s death; so that whenever they chanced to perceive any appearance of discontent anywhere, or any hatred against the present Government, they would send secret messages to the party, with exhortations to contrive some mode of deliverance; under promise of their being heartily and effectually supported. Mir-djaafer-qhan, as the most considerable and the most injured of the malcontents, was the foremost amongst them. Djagat-seat had underhand promised to support him vigorously; and they formed together a confederacy, which has been hinted at in the narrative about Sháocat-djung, and which shall be explained in the subsequent pages; for now it becomes proper to resume that young Prince’s history, in order to see how he went to wreck. Such a digression necessarily must have its place here, to answer the expectations of those, who having already got some idea of the profligacy and ignorance of that young man’s character, are desirous to know how he continued to mismanage, and how he ended at last.

We have already mentioned how Sáyd-ahmed-qhan died, and how he was succeeded by his son, Sháocat-djung, and how not thinking proper to remain in that young Prince’s service, I, the Poor Man, had quitted P8raniah, with intention to repair to Azim-abad, where our family is settled; but that hearing at Carangolah that my two younger brothers, and my maternal uncle, Séyd-abdol-vehhab-qhan, had been banished from that city, by a late order of Seradj-ed-döulah’s, I had become fearful of that Prince’s resentment, on my own account. So that finding it difficult to get out of his dominions, it being a voyage that would have required fifteen days, and in the height of the rains; and full as disagreeable to pass that season in such a lonely place as Carangolah, I had thought it better to return to P8raniah. Account of Sháocat-djung resumed. But no sooner was I landed in my home, than my very imprudent friends became urging for my taking service with that senseless youth, Sháocat-djung, whose character I knew, or had guessed so well. I would answer, “that my attaching myself to that young Prince was not likely to last long; that I foresaw that his affairs would not end well; that now that I was sitting in a corner of my own house, I was safe from these two thoughtless young men, (Sháocat-djung, and Seradj-ed-döulah); but that once engaged in the former’s service, I would be exposed to the shafts of the perverse character of both: and for these reasons I requested their tormenting me no more on that subject.” All this did not avail. They would endlessly observe that even death in good company was not without its pleasure; and they all seemed discontented and estranged from me. At last finding that I remained immovable, they one day contrived to come in a body to the Poor Man’s house, with the Prince at their head; and this young man made use of so many intreaties to draw me out of my retirement, that I soon saw that unless I submitted instantly, I might see realised in few days all those evils and misfortunes, which I had only conceived as probable. I conceived that I might experience directly what I feared might happen only in the sequel; and that the Prince, incensed at my refusal, would render my stay at P8raniah very uneasy, by setting up some subject of quarrel upon some past subject. Being then at a loss how to manage, I opened my arms to all contingencies, agreed to attach myself to him, and commenced frequenting his Court. For a few days, the young man being much at a loss what to do with his own self, seemed studious of following my advice (doubtless out of natural levity of temper), and he made it a point to manage all his affairs mostly by my counsels, or at my desire. So that like the Vezir^\(105\) in the game of Chess, I was close to a wooden King, that could neither think, nor act, by himself. I was obliged to read him lessons about signing papers, giving audience, and supporting a character in public; and he was so intent on profiting by my lessons, that when I chanced to arrive too late at Court, he would stay all proceedings, and remain silent, until I was come. Such a conduct put me to a deal of trouble and embarrassment. He could neither read fluently, nor write legibly; so that I was obliged to be both his school-master, and his Minister. I was obliged to direct his pen, teach him that Aba was written with two As and a B, and to tell him how to join A to the next letter, and a syllable to a syllable, and how to keep his words asunder. I thought he was improving his hand and mind; when one day, as there were many papers to be signed, he on a sudden shewed marks of impatience; and throwing his pen away, he rose, in a visible passion, from his Mesned, and went and sat at a distance from it. As there subsisted no reason of discontent between us, I did not ask what might be the cause of this sudden flash, but continued sitting a full hour; after which I rose, and taking a respectful leave, I was followed by all the persons present, and I went to Ro8h-eddin-husséin-qhan’s house. This nobleman had espoused his sister, being a son of Séif-qhan the forgiven, and had an extreme regard for me. After taking my seat, I could not help mentioning with wonder that suddenness of behaviour in the young Prince, for which I could not account in any manner in my power. I had hardly done speaking, when a servant of Sháocat-djung’s brought me a note, signed by his master. It was in these terms: My Lord is my friend, and not my school-master; why does he give himself so much trouble about my reading and writing? I answered, “that in this I had only acted as I had been desired to act; but now that I was better informed of his pleasure, I would no more give His Highness any trouble on that head;” and for some days, I let him do as he pleased, without offering a single word; until one day he came himself close to me, and with many importunities desired me again to oversee his reading and his signature. I desired to be excused, and added, “that young Princes were of a fiery temper, and I, the Poor Man, fearful of offending, as I could not always guess what might be His Highness’s pleasure; and that I hoped he would hold me excused.” But he would not hear of my excuses; and he continued his importunities so assiduously, that fain I was to alter my conduct; but yet I only answered every question he put, or only taught whenever he desired it; and matters went on in that manner for some time, when one day there came a letter from Mir-djaafer-qhan, that exhorted him to stand up, and to wrest the whole of Aaly-verdy-qhan’s estate from Seradj-ed-döulah’s hands. He mentioned several Commanders and Grandees, “who, as well as Mir-djaafer-qhan himself, looked upon Sáyd-ahmed-qhan’s son, as their only resource against the growing and daily cruelties of Seradj-ed-döulah’s; and he pledged himself that he would be strongly and unanimously supported, as the enterprise was easy, and it only wanted some one to sit on the throne; in which case all the others would undertake to place him thereon, under certain conditions and stipulations, which he mentioned at length.”^\(106\)

This letter, and some others of a like style, together with the concert that seemed to subsist between the principal men at M8rsh8d-abad, overset entirely the brainless head of Sháocat-djung, and what contributed not a little to this disorder, was the arrival of two strange beings that appeared at the same time at P8rania. The one was a certain light-headed Mir-maaly-qhan, one of the many ones that had a sister amongst Saadet-qhan’s consorts, once Sovereign of A8d. He made suddently his appearance in Sháocat-djung’s Court, and as suddently was taken into his service. This man, who was an ancient friend of Mir-djaafer-qhan’s, acquired a complete command over his mind; and as he soon became thoroughly acquainted with the young man’s temper, he filled his head with chimeras. The other of these two men, was one Habib-beg, who had been for years together in Aaly-verdy-qhan’s service, and was of a temper inclined to oddities, whims, and profligacy. This man having somehow fallen under Seradj-ed-döulah’s displeasure, at Calcutta, had thought the place too dangerous for his safety, and had fled for his life to P8rania, where he also was inlisted amongst the friends and favourites of Sháocat-djung’s; and these two men, in hopes of turning to account that young Prince’s propensity to flattering proposals, too care to keep alive that high opinion which he had now conceived of himself; nor did they cease to flatter him to his heart’s content. Totally ignorant of the world, and circumvented, as well as deceived, by the false representations of those sycophants, he thought that the misfortunes which had brought them so far, were so many advantages for himself; and now being full in the focus of flattery, he bubbled into high-flown notions of his person, which he really thought superior to any thing under the orb of the moon; and being made sensible by those two men of his own importance, he was often heard to say: “That after having taken possession of Bengal, he would, just to clear his way, fall first upon Ab8l-mans8r-qhan’s son, and then would subdue the son of Ghazy-eddin-qhan;^\(107\) and that after having placed on the throne an Emperor of his own liking, he would push on as far as Lahor and Cab8l, from whence I shall proceed to Candahar and Qhorassan,^\(108\) where (added he) I intend to take up my residence, as the climate of Bengal does not suit my state of health.” Such were the notions of that young man’s, and such were his projects. But as his father had found means to open a correspondence with Zya-ed-döulah, and with Djelal-eddin-mahammed-qhan, who were the favourite friends of Mir-sheab-eddin-umad-el-mulk, the Vezir, he soon obtained from thence leave to take possession of the three provinces governed by Seradj-ed-döulah, under condition of sending to the Presence the latter’s confiscation, and of forwarding regularly an annual tribute of one coror of rupees.

On the receipt of that patent, his pride, which had already reached to the sphere of the moon, now rose to the sun’s orb; and he commenced picking up quarrels with the principal officers and Commanders of the old Court. Those men, whom his father had been at so much pains to attach to his person and family, and who had spent their lives in his service, were now taken to task for the childish reason of their having, in his youth-time, disobeyed some orders of his, whilst they had injunctions to the contrary from his father, and of course acted consistently with their duty. Most of those old soldiers were now degraded, lost their appointments, or were used with contempt, to the heartfelt satisfaction of Mir-maaly-qhan, and of Habib-beg, his associate, as well as of all those who had been the companions of his boyish pastimes; and who being mostly as thoughtless as himself, were so far from repressing his ardour, that they would add fuel to it. All these beheld with satisfaction the depression of the old Grandees, in hopes that they would soon succeed to their places; as they reckoned that every mark of contempt or disgrace set upon them amounted to as much as a mark of distinction conferred upon themselves. The two new comers especially were the foremost, in exacting him to a full execution of his authority, and meanwhile they were contriving opportunities to get from him rich dresses of honour, and elephants, and horses, and jewels, and new offices. As to my own part, seeing how matters went, I sometimes observed to them, “that they ought first of all to contrive how to strengthen their Prince’s Government, and how to confirm his power; and that this being once solidly established, it would be time then to think of getting jewels and elephants.” My observation did not avail; no attention was paid to it, and the Prince went on as he had commenced. One day he took into his head to seize and confine Lally, the Colonel, who commanded the artillery, a Gentoo of capacity and courage, whom Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, his father, had attached to his family by treating him with the utmost regard and distinction. He sent for both me and my younger brother, Naky-aaly-qhan, and having carried us into his closet, he exposed his views against that officer. I heard patiently what he said, but did not answer a single word; whereupon he intreated me to conceal nothing from him, but to tell him whatever I might think advantageous for his affairs, and proper for his circumstances. So much earnestness put me off my guard, and I could not help answering in these terms: “Let Wise advice given him by the author. us examine first, what is the reason that so many Generals of the army, and so many Grandees of the State, have conceived so much aversion against Seradj-ed-döulah’s person, as to apply to you for their deliverance, although he has unquestionably upon their gratitude all the rights acquired for him by Aaly-verdy-qhan’s repeated favours, and long reign; and then it will be found out, that it is solely because none of them think either their lives, or their honour, or properties safe; because they have been every one of them insulted and outraged; and because they think you incapable of so senseless a behaviour; but as soon as they shall see that you do not spare your father’s best servants; that you are searching to circumvent and to demolish them; and that you are no better than Seradj-ed-döulah himself; rest assured that they will be disgusted at you, and will return to Seradj-ed-döulah.” This advice of mine, bold as it was he had sense enough to approve; and sending for an elephant, he made me a present of it, and dismissed me to my home. But in few days after, his thoughtless companions brought him again to their own way of thinking. He resumed his project, and having found means, underhand, and on the incitement of a higher pay, to prevail on Lally’s men to disperse, and to inlist in other corps, he put the rest under command of his own son, Séif-eddin-mahamed-qhan, a boy, born these two days; and getting upon his elephant, he marched in an hostile manner against Lally’s house, and quarters. At sight of this, the few officers and men that had yet stood by that Commander, forsook him, and he was left alone in his house. Mahmed-sáyd-qhan, and my younger brother, Naky-aaly-qhan, went in, and taking him by the hand, brought him to Sháocat-djung. This thoughtless man wanted to put him to the whip immediately. He was opposed by the two officers that had brought him, who strongly interceded in his behalf, and objected to the indignity of the proceeding; but all to no purpose; he persisted in putting him to the whip. At last Mahmed-sáyd-qhan, losing all patience, spoke to him in a firm tone of voice: “My Lord and Master,” said he, “punishments of such a kind are not to be inflicted upon officers;” and these words having been approved by all present, they joined in interceding for him again; and at last the man was saved from the whip; but he was put under confinement, and his elephants, horses, money, effects, and furniture, were all seized and confiscated; so that the man, in one day, saw himself reduced to his last rupee. A few days after, his wife and family were ordered to attend him; and thirty rupees being put in his hand, to bear his charges, he was placed in a boat, sent on the other side of the Cosséy, towards Bir-nagur, and left to himself. After this expedition, Sháocat-djung assumed a higher tone of voice with his Commanders. He spoke harshly, and in obscene language to them; and by such a strange alteration, he lost the hearts of every one of them. He now commenced speaking irreverently of his ancestors, and mentioning them in very indecent language. One day, sitting in full Court and at noon-day, at which time the hall of audience is always crowded, he turned towards the Commander-in-Chief, Car-guzar-qhan, and said: “Doubtless, Car-guzar-qhan, after the conquest of Bengal, shall compliment me with the pay of his new raised men.” The officer, surprised at this speech, but without losing his presence of mind, answered directly: Yes, my Lord, and Master; for I hope they shall get so much booty, that they will not grudge such a portion of their pittance. “You are mistaken,” replied Sháocat-djung; “I am not such a sot as Aaly-verdy-qhan, who always used to give to his men every thing that was found in an enemy’s camp. For my part, I will not part to them with so much as a handful of straw, above their pay.”

Another day Mir-maaly-qhan, who was now become Fodjdar of Siraniah, Navvab-gundj, and other places, having been sent for, to be put at the head of an expedition against Rungp8r, came and presented a petition, which chanced to commence in these words: Navvab Refuge of the world, greeting. This expression of Aalem-penah having hit his fancy, he sent for Hazyr-aaly-qhan, Superintendent of his hall of audience, and directed that his mace-bearers and ushers should henceforward make use of that title in presenting people^\(109\). But there is something still more curious: he sent for his Secretary, and ordered him to write a letter to the Vezir, Umed-el-mulk, to this purport, and nearly in these terms: “As it is customary for people in writing to you, or in introducing any one, to address your Highness by the expression of Navvab, Resource of all the inhabitants of the world, greeting; so I, who am your Highness’s son, have chosen for myself the title of Aalem-penah; and I hope that you shall condescend to make use of it, in writing to me.” After having forwarded this letter, he accompanied it by eleven Esherffies, sent as a nuzur, or homage, for that new-fangled title of his contrivance. But here is more. His protectors at Court were Zya-ed-döulah and Djelal-eddin-mahmed-qhan; and to both he wrote “That whoever should use any other title than that, would receive no answer and would have his letter torn to shreds.” Such was his extent of mind. As to his morals, although he did not seem vicious, yet he dressed and spoke like a woman;^\(110\) but this did not prevent him from abusing, in a low and obscene language, every one whatever, without distinction, and that too in the fullest hall of audience. So that officers and Commanders, dignified with the titles of Hezarys or Colonels, and Bahadyr or Courageous, submitted to such indignities, and remained silent; and such was the style of the Court, when that senseless Mir-maaly-qhan proposed to take possession of Rangpoor, and requested assistance. The request was immediately complied with, and an order issued accordingly; but no one could obey. The rainy season was at its height, and the whole country under water; nor was any man fool-hardy enough to set out in such weather; so that the mad man, Mir-maaly-qhan, finding so much slowness everywhere, set out himself, and contrived to advance, little by little, as far as three days’ journey; but after undergoing a deal of fatigue, he was obliged to stay where he was, without being able to advance one step farther.

Such being the state of the Court and of administration, the city of P8raniah could not fail to be full of conventicles. People shocked at Sháocat-djung’s shameful language, and tired to death with his no less shameful behaviour, used to assemble in several houses; and there, in the middle of their friends, they exhaled their complaints. In several of these assemblies, the traitor Habib-beg had found means to introduce himself, as an associate and friend; but under the mask of friendship he listened to whatever was said, and used to report it to his master, whom he informed that the officers of his troops especially, had entered into a confederacy together, with intention to betray him. Nothing could be more false than such a report, and nothing more destitute of any foundation. It is true, that Car-guzar-qhan, the Commander-in-Chief, and many other officers of consequence, like Sheh-abdol-reshid, with many other men of note, had resolved to go to Court in a body, and to request him, with threats, to forbear the infamous language he made use of in speaking to them. It was resolved to inform him “that, if after so fair a warning he trespassed again, it would be at his peril.” The intent of all which, after all, was only to frighten the thoughtless young man into a better behaviour, and into a more decent language; and indeed this resolute proceeding had its full effect. The young Prince, now become sensible of his danger, sent for a number of them, and made publicly some concessions, promising them a better behaviour. All were satisfied by this promise; but the thoughts of betraying him were disclaimed by all; and all turning their eyes upon Habib-beg, on whom they all fixed their suspicions, intreated the Prince to name the man that had given him so false an information; that he might point out his authority, in his and their presence, if he had spoke the truth; and if he had uttered a falsehood, that he might receive at their hands the chastisement he deserved. Habib-beg, confounded and embarrassed at finding all the eyes turned upon him, took the accusation up, and said, “that he had not spoke of any treason, but only had given him to understand that he would do well to alter his language and behaviour; as his people were ready to abandon him, and one of the foremost of those would be himself.” But this construction, which he now put upon his own report, having been reprobated by all, as founded on falsehood, Sháocat-djung himself took a dislike to his new favourite; who finding himself loaded on the very spot with reproaches and taunts, by all his friends and acquaintances, then present; and observing also that he had now become an object of contempt and reproach to both sides, thought that there remained no other party for him, than that of quitting the world, where he had lost his character. Laying down, therefore, both his arms and clothes on the spot, he exclaimed, that, “if there should be a battle, he would stand by them; else he bid them his last farewell. I am now a Fakir, said he; and have done with the world.” And luckily for him that he betook himself to that expedient; else, it was the general intention to chastise him rigorously in full Court.

But although the breach betwixt the servants and the master seemed made up by this incident, yet the latter, who perceived their being estranged from him, took a dislike to all his officers and troops; and sending for some field-pieces, with some of the men of the artillery, whom he could trust, he planted them at the gates of his palace; and placed a guard at each of them, with orders not to suffer any armed men to enter. As the officers, on their side, conceived a deal of mistrust from this behaviour, every one of them retired to his house, and declined going any more to Court; so that the Prince, finding himself deserted, was fain to give a counter order, and to admit every one, armed or not.

Whilst the Court of P8raniah was a prey to so much mistrust and misintelligence, news came that Lally, the Hezary, or Colonel, had been invited over to M8rsh8d-abad by Seradj-ed-döulah, and that the man, glad of the invitation, had repaired from Bir-nugur, to that capital. Sháocat-djung, on hearing of this, was extremely surprised and astonished; and he said publicly that “if Lally had been capable of such a treason, after all the rights which the deceased Prince, his father, had acquired over that officer’s gratitude, there was no expecting fidelity from any one else.” Strange indeed, that Sháocat-djung should remember so well the favours conferred by his father on that officer, and should forget at the same time the disgraces and injustices he had himself so recently heaped upon him! Strange indeed, that after such a behaviour, he should expect gratitude and fidelity at the man’s hands! But such was his language, and such his turn of mind. To mention all his ridiculous and thoughtless actions would require volumes; and a pity it would be to consume ink and paper upon such a subject. Meanwhile Seradj-ed-döulah, informed of his hatred to him, of his impudence, his impatience, and his thoughtlessness; and apprised also of Mir-maaly’s motions, and of the behaviour and turn of mind of all his favourites, had resolved to try his pulse; and although a very strange man himself, he wondered at the strangeness of the report, and thought it better, if possible, to avoid coming to a rupture. But some fresher intelligence which he received, made him determine to put an end to his pretensions as soon as possible. As a prelude, he appointed Ras-beháry, younger brother to Radja D8l8bram, to the Fodjdary of Bir-nugur, and Gondvara, both in P8raniah; gave him the patents of it, and sent him to take possession, entrusting him at the same time with a letter for Sháocat-djung. Ras-beháry advancing as far as the shore opposite to Radjemahl, sent a supplique to Sháocat-djung, which contained his own request, and Seradj-ed-döulah’s letter; and meanwhile he stopped there to wait for Sháocat-djung’s permission to proceed. The purport of the letter was as follows: “That as the two Perganahs or Districts in question were going to be given in Djaghir to another at the Imperial Court, he had thought it improper to suffer the introduction of a stranger in that country, and had rather chosen to assume them himself, as Dissensions between the two Princely cousins. his own Djaghir, after having requested them in his own name; and as there was no difference between them two, and their interests were one and the same, he had sent Ras-beháry to take possession of them; requesting his being pleased to give him possession, and to send to M8rsh8d-abad an act of it.” Such a letter could not but surprise Sháocat-djung. He resolved to ask counsel from his friends; and having assembled them, he also sent for me. These were Mir-maaly-qhan, and the Commander-in-Chief, and Habib-beg, and several other Commanders, and Grandees, whose fidelity he trusted. They all assembled, and I found them silent, when I arrived. On arriving, he opened the letter, and asked their advice on this overture. The whole assembly, to a man, turned its eyes upon me, and all asked my opinion; the Prince did the same. But as I was discontented this longwhile, I contented myself with answering, that whatever His Highness would determine in his own mind, doubtless would prove the best party possible. He was not satisfied with this answer, and he intreated me so strongly, that being unable to resist any more, I answered in these very terms: “That as the rainy season was not yet over, and there was no possibility for horses, or even for infantry to move in the field, so as to excite any apprehensions, I thought it would be proper to pass over with dissimulation and compliance that favourable time of release and safety; that we must therefore send for Ras-beháry to Court, and by fair promises and a civil behaviour, keep him in suspense. But meanwhile that the Prince ought to write to Serádj-ed-döulah a respectful letter, approving what he had done as very proper; but adding at the same time, that as Sháocat-djung thought himself one of those intitled to favour and beneficence from the hem of his Princely robe, he supplicated that those two districts might be, in compliance with the custom, left annexed to P8raniah, charging himself with remitting to this treasury the Malg8zary or fixed revenue of those lands. I added, that after writing the above letter, he must wait to see what answer Seradj-ed-döulah would make. That meanwhile Ras-beháry was to be used with regard and much civility; but that meanwhile, himself ought to turn to some benefit what remained of the rainy season, so as to assemble his artillery and forces. That after the rainy season should be over, it would be proper to make an alliance with the English, who were reported to intend marching against Seradj-ed-döulah; and then only it would be time to act and advance, as time and occasion should point out.” This advice, thanks be to God, was approved by him; and he ordered the Secretary to draw up the letter in that style, paying me, at the same time, many encomiums; so many indeed that the courtiers, according to their rivetted custom, thought it incumbent upon them to imitate their master, and even to go farther; and they became so profuse in my praise, that he took a disgust at them; and altering his tone of voice, he broke out in these terms: He is a man of sense indeed; but will ever his sense be equal to mine? He has the sense of ten thousand men concentred in his brain; but I have that of several hundred thousands concentred in mine. Nor do I approve of his advice at all. This said, he sent for Ras-beháry’s messenger, and having reprimanded and buffeted the poor man, he sent for the Vezir’s letter, which he looked upon as his patent, and ordered it to be read with a loud voice in full Court; after which he gave a verbal answer in very rough terms to the messengers, and added a letter to Seradj-ed-döulah in the same style. The purport of which was this: “I have Extravagant letter of Sháocat-djung’s to Seradj-ed-döulah. received from the Imperial Court the patent of the three provinces of Bengal, Bahar and Oressa, in my own name; but as there subsists a brotherhood and a parentage between us, I forbear meddling with your life, and shall assign for your subsistence any part in the province of Djehangir-nugur-dacca, which you shall like, and point out; and the patent of it I shall expedite, whenever you please. Meanwhile do retire into those parts, and leave the palace, treasury, and furniture to my officers; and take care to send me your answer speedily, as I am waiting for it with a foot in the stirrup.” The messenger returned to Ras-beháry, delivered the verbal message, and put the letter in his hand. The Prince shocked at what he called mummery and farce, resolved to march in person, and to chastise Sháocat-djung; and meanwhile he ordered Radja Ram-naráin to fall upon him on his side, with the forces of Azim-abad, and those of the Zemindars under his command. Ram-naráin, in compliance with the order, set out with Radja Sunder-sing, and putting himself at the head of the forces of Azim-abad, which alone could not amount to less than the double of the forces at P8raniah, but which at any rate must have been a great deal more than equal, he marched against the enemy. As to the forces which Seradj-ed-döulah had with himself, part was sent under the command of his Divan, Radja Mohon-lal, with orders to cross the Ganga, and to fall upon the enemy on the side of Samdah, Bessent-p8r-golah, and Haiat-po8r; and with the other part, he advanced to Radj-mahal, resolved to cross the Ganga there, whilst the Governor of Azim-abad being nearer, had already crossed over with his forces. Sháocat-djung, who had always had in his mind some day or other to come to war with Seradj-ed-döulaah, and whose letters and messages to that Prince had He prepares for war. now rendered it unavoidable, ordered his people to look out for a proper camp, where his army might rendezvous. His Ministers, some of whom had belonged to his father, and were not destitute of abilities, pitched upon a spot at the entrance of the province, which was a difficult part, betwixt Maniári and Navvab-gung, as being surrounded everywhere by lakes and morasses, so that there was no approaching it but by a narrow passage, that ended in a narrow causeway. The lakes were everywhere two or three cosses over, and deep; and in some places, where they might be accessible in dry weather, the passage had been barred by a deep ditch, and a rampart; so that the post had become very strong, and such as would have enabled a sensible Commander to defend himself in it for seasons together, with a small number of troops, against a numerous army; and that too without a possibility of his being assaulted, but with the utmost difficulty; for the back part was his own country, from whence supplies might be received with ease and facility. This post was approved of on all hands; but what is singular, the Commanders of the troops, especially of his cavalry, out of disgust against his indecent way of speaking, were desirous of encamping at a distance from him; and himself, out of mistrust to them, was not pleased with having them for his neighbours. So that whilst the cavalry was marching to the rendezvous, orders were sent to the troops to encamp on the shore of the little river, Sonra, which was at about a cosse and-a-half, or even more, from his own tents; and these last had been pitched within the intrenched part. In consequence of such a disposition the principal Commanders encamped at too great a distance from each other. These were Car-guzar-qhan, the Commander-in-Chief; Sheh-djehan-yar, his nephew; Sheh-abdol-reshid; Mir-s8ltan-qhalil-qhan; and some other persons of consequence. Amongst these was Mahmed-sáyd-qhan, son to that Ab8-t8rab-qhan-t8rani, who had been slain at the battle against the Zemindar Adjadj8, in Saadet-qhan’s service. There were several other Commanders that had served under Séif-qhan; and I was there myself, with my younger brother, Naky-aaly-qhan. All these might be said to be the flower of the army. Shiam-sunder, a Bengaly-cahet, who in fact commanded the artillery, (as there had not been any other Commander of it, even in his father’s life-time, but Sháocat-djung himself), thought proper to encamp within the intrenched part; yet so as to have his station on that narrow tongue of land that ended in a causeway, and was the great passage in and out of camp. In this manner this army of good troops, destitute of a chief and of a head, was encamped in two distinct portions, at about tow cosses distance from each other. News arrived every day of the approach of Seradj-ed-döulah’s army. But on the day before the engagement, intelligence came, that the enemy’s vanguard was coming; and every one in our camp, although without any chief Commander, prepared for defence. Some time after, intelligence came that the enemy had encamped at some distance, but that to-morrow they would come down for an attack. In the evening the spare tents of Sháocat-djung’s were pitched; but without it being known yet when he would come; and we passed the night in that incertitude. The next day, being the twenty-first of Djemadi, in A.D. 1756-7. the year 1170 of the Hedjra, at about two hours after day-break, that Prince made his appearance. His officers and Commanders immediately crowded around his tent, to pay their respects, and I was of the number; but such was his perverseness, that even at that moment, even at such a time, his front did not open; nor did he unknit his eyebrows; nor did he drop any thing, from whence one might conceive that he had dismissed those suspicions he had so unjustly conceived against his people; even at that time he neither said or did any thing calculated to gain their hearts. He contented himself with commanding his officers to return to their quarters, there to remain encamped as they were. So that those brave men were obliged, with broken hearts and dejected countenances, to repair to their encampment, which was on the right hand, that is, at a full cosse and-a-half from the infantry; and there they remained, waiting for new orders. He remained himself in that spot, within which he had brought a number of gentlemen on horseback, that had no Commander but himself; and also some corps on which he most trusted; such as that of Mir-merdan-aaly, a relation of Qhandö8ran, the Minister of State at Delhi; he commanded the body-guards, and had distinguished himself by an ensign of cloth of gold. The other corps were commanded by Miten-lal, Divan to Sháocat-djung; by Séif-eddin-mahmed-qhan, nephew to Aga-azimai, a gentleman, who, since Lally’s disgrace, had been invested with the command of that officer’s corps of about a thousand musqueteers; lastly by Sháocat-djung’s own brother, Mirza-ramazani, who went by the title of Hady-aaly-qhan-djessaret-djung, and had four hundred horse under his command. All these were taken within the fortified part of the camp, like a troop of beasts inclosed together in a net for the purpose of being shot at; and in this disposition, Sháocat-djung thought he provided for the safety of the intrenchment, although he thereby put a distance of full two cosses betwixt one part of his army and the other. Whilst he was giving such senseless orders with a peevish tone of voice, there happened to be close to him an old Afghan officer, Omer-qhan by name, who had been introduced into the service by Mir-so8ltan-qhalil-qhan, where he commanded a body of four hundred horse; he was an old officer, and an old warrior, who had seen a variety of services. On observing the Prince draw near, he had turned out his troop, in compliment to him; but even such a mark of respect did not soften his mind; nor would he abate anything of his wonted peevishness of expression, and severity of looks; he only took care, by the harshness of his language, to disgust all those brave soldiers, to a man. By this time the two-thirds of the day being spent, Seradj-ed-döulah’s army, under the command of Mohon-lal, his Divan, was making its appearance, betwixt Abari and Maniáry; and its standards, planted on a high ground were descried from afar; nor was the distance betwixt the two armies in any sense more than two cosses. As every one was doing as he pleased in our army, Shiam-sunder, the Comptroller of the Artillery, who wished to shew his courage and zeal, but who in reality betrayed only his ignorance and inexperience, quitted at once the post where he was within the intrenchment, and going out of the neck of land, he planted his artillery at about half a cosse farther, and of course at about one cosse and-a-half from the enemy, which latter shewed themselves from the south and west. By taking that position, Shiam-sunder deprived himself of the protection of the intrenchment, and of the benefit of the lake; for he had advanced beyond the lake. However, on the other side, where the main body of the Bengal army was showing itself northward and southward, there remained still a broad lake, of about two cosses over, between them and Sháocat-djung’s army; but Mohon-lal having advanced with the principal officers of his army, amongst whom were Mir-djaafer-qhan, and the two friends, Dost-mahmed-qhan, and Mir-cazem-qhan, with the two brothers, Dilir-qhan, and Assalet-qhan, both sons to Omer-qhan, pitched his tents on an eminence upon the shore of the Ganga, where he stopped, out of precaution, ordering his light artillery to be placed in front, and to fire on the enemy; but the distance was so great that most of the balls fell in the lake. This was not the case with the large artillery, which being by this time come up, its ball went beyond the lake, and one or two of them fell within the intrenchment. Sháocat-djung, on observing that the balls could reach him, ordered the insignia of his dignity, that is, the Mahi^\(111\), to be lowered down, and carried at some distance; and he reprimanded the servants that stood round him, as if those traitorous fellows, by thronging round his person, had wanted to render him as conspicuous as a mark to fire at. The poor people immediately dispersed, and went at some distance; still he was not satisfied, and could not abide in one place. Umer-qhan, the old officer above spoken of, happening to be near, could not help expressing himself in these terms: “My Lord and Master (said he), what kind of battle is this? I can make nothing of it; nor did I ever see any such thing in all my wars in Decan, nor under Nizam-el-mulk. This is not the way. Here every one does as he likes. The troops must be assembled in one place, and ranged in battle array; and the artillery must be stationed in front; and the men must march together, and in a compact body, and stand their ground with firmness; and then only victory and success my be expected.” Sháocat-djung took the remonstrance ill, gave abusive language to Nizam-el-mulk, and said: “I have no occasin to be taught what I am to do; for I have fought myself three hundred battles.” The old officer, after this rebuke, hung his head; but added not a word. It was after giving this rebuke, that he remembered of the Commander, Car-guzar-qhan, and of the other officers whom he had placed at such a distance with their cavalry; and he sent a trooper to ask them, why they remained motionless, as so many marks for the enemy’s balls? Doubtless you have not the heart to fall upon them, I suppose. The trooper went, delivered his message, and brought this answer: “To attack so superior an enemy with our small force, would be highly imprudent; and were we ever so well inclined the lake and its miry borders would effectually prevent us. Let the enemy advance themselves, as they do actually. After they shall have fatigued themselves in emerging from the mire, and shall then have received some discharges of artillery and musquetry, it will be time then to fall upon an enemy so weakened and disordered; and if the case happens as we conjecture, we shall then do as we shall be able to afford; and such an advantage is all that our small numbers can pretend to.” This answer raised his anger; he dropped some coarse, abusive language, and sent back the man with this message: Do not talk like so many cowards; a Gentoo, such as Shiam-sunder, has advanced out of the intrenchment with my artillery, and is now pouring his balls amongst the enemy; and you that pretend to be such mighty Commanders, stay behind to talk of prudence and caution. By this time it was already noon; and until the horseman might carry this rebuke and bring an answer, more time would be spent; and in fact, there remained now but one-third part of the day; but Sháocat-djung, who had already taken his dose of bang, was by this time inclined to give vent to the fumes of it^\(112\), and to amuse himself with listening to the songs of his women; for being now incapable to hold up his head, he alighted from his elephant, and went into his sanctuary. On seeing this I retired with some other officers into the audience tent, where on sitting down, I could not help saying these words: “The day is now far spent, and there remains no more now than one-third part of it; if we can pass over that space of time, without any accident, we must sleep as we can to-night; and to-morrow, after having taught common sense to this blockhead, we shall join together, and march out in a body to fight together; and then happen what it will, but fight we shall in a body at least.” After having said these few words, I got up, with intention to go over to the cavalry, encamped at a cosse and-a-half distance, in which was my brother, Naky-aaly-qhan. But on coming out of the intrenchment, in my way thither, I perceived that Car-guzar-qhan, with Habib-beg, and Mir-So8ltan-qhalil-qhan, unable to put up with the taunts conveyed by the horseman in his third trip, had put themselves at the head of the cavalry, and were crossing the lake with all the pains imaginable; and they had only the other half to wade through, and would soon be engaged. This sight struck me; I stopped, and said to myself: “I am too far off; nor can I pretend to join them in time. Unhappily our troops are strangely dispersed. Our best Commanders with their cavalry are wading through mud and water, while the enemy is endlessly firing upon them with their rockets and artillery; and if they be able to cross over at all, it shall be after they shall have been thoroughly thinned in their numbers, and spent with fatigue; if they be not, they shall to a man perish in the lake. As to Shiam-sunder with his musqueteers, he is at a great distance from them. God only knows whether he has a mind to join and support them; and if he does, whether he shall have it in his power; and if he has it, whether he shall arrive betimes. Our two armies will be beaten then, one after another, and without being able to effect a junction. Better to return back, and to advise this thoughtless youth. If I can get him upon his elephant, and with what troops are here, he make haste to join his cavalry, I am not without some hopes.” After this soliloquy, I came back, and having advanced close to his quarters, I found that he was listening to songs, and amusing himself with dances; but on being informed that his cavalry and Shiam-sunder’s musqueteers being joined, were advancing towards the enemy; he got, half drunk, upon his elephant, where I saw that he could hardly support himself. Already the troops encamped with him, and which had retired to their tents, were assembling from all parts round his person; but meanwhile a whole hour was lost in these motions; and meanwhile the troops that were crossing the lake, were already engaged, but in a disorderly, confused manner. I was urging Sháocat-djung to advance to support his men; but he could not support himself; he was out of his senses; and at every tenth step, he would lay his hand on the driver’s shoulder, to make him stop. I urged still, without being discouraged, as his presence alone would be of some use, and his people were hastening about him. But already as we were getting out of camp, I could observe that the cavalry, having at last crossed the lake, under the enemy’s fire, were now engaged with a stiff mud and dangerous mire, from whence few could get out; and meanwhile they were shot at like so many marks. So that most of them being killed or wounded, before they could join the enemy, and the others being unable to stand their ground even there, they gained the firm land, but it was to fly at a distance.

On observing this, Mir-djaafer-qhan advanced upon them, with Mir-cazem-qhan, and Umer-qhan, and all his cavalry; and falling sword in hand upon our dispersed men, they drove them everywhere before them, without the latter having been able to make a junction of their small numbers, or to be joined by us. In this manner many of our brave Commanders, overpowered by numbers, fell uselessly to themselves and to us. Abdol-rashid and Mahmed-sáyd-qhan, after performing feats of valour, drank manfully the bitter cup of death, as did Mir-so8ltan-qhalil himself. Aaly-naky-qhan and Habib-beg, who had lost their horses, and fought on foot, were severely wounded; and being taken prisoners, they were conserved alive, as being known to Mir-djaafer-qhan and to Dost-mahmed-qhan. Sheh-mahmed-yar-qhan finding himself left alone, performed what could be expected from so brave a man; and he retreated safe, carrying with him Car-guzar-qhan, who had heroically exerted himself, and had received several dangerous wounds. Shiam-sunder fled also, but much wounded. The Commanders of the enemy’s, having so easily defeated this advanced moiety of our army, formed again, and advanced in order, against those they saw about Sháocat-djung’s person. On sight of this, Mir-merdan-aaly, who commanded his body-guards, and Miten-laal, who commanded the foot-guards, turned about, with Mirza-ramzani, brother to the Prince, and, without waiting for the enemy, they fled full speed. Séif-eddin-mahmed-qhan, who had succeeded Lally, fled also, after receiving several wounds; none of his musqueteers would stand by him. Sháocat-djung, now left alone with only fourteen men, one of whom was myself, was totally out of his senses, when a musquet-ball lodging into his forehead, made him return his soul Sháocat-djung defeated and slain. to its Maker. His serpitch and yellow turbant fell on the ground, and were taken up by some body. Finding now that all was over, I went away, with the very few that remained; and then we dispersed, each going to his home. Mir-morteza, who bore the surname of Emir-qhani, for having served under the famous Emir-qhan, and was now one of the favourites of Mir-djaafer-qhan’s, having spurred his horse towards the elephant that carried Sháocat-djung’s body, ran a small lance (one of those iron ones called Barchys) with so much force, that it ran from behind into Mirza-rostem-aaly’s shoulder, (who sat in the qhavvas)^\(113\), and came out on the opposite side, close to the neck. He at the same time called out: Surrender, and let me have those arms of yours. The man to whom he spoke was a brave officer, of much personal merit, and much zeal in the sect of the Imamites, of which he was an intrepid assertor. Roused by the wound, he drew his sabre, and turning to the spear-man, “And who art thou, said he, that darest to ask my arms, whilst I am alive? Dost thou believe that I wear them to surrender them to such a fellow as thee, that has wounded me from behind? Come near, and I will give thee the arms; draw but near, if thou darest.” Mir-morteza would not go nearer; and the elephant continued his route. The evening coming on, put an end to the contest; but nobody pursued, and every one on both sides retired to his home, without any hindrance from the peasants of P8raniah, who were not courageous enough to come down in numbers, and to plunder the living, or strip the dead, as they do in Hindostan. As to us, my brother and I, who were objects of resentment to both sides, our case was more embarrassing. Sháocat-djung had been heard to say, that as soon as he should have gained the victory, he would make an example of those two men, who were more refractory than all the others put together, and whom so many had taken up for their patterns; and Seradj-ed-döulah, on his side, used to say, “That Sháocat-djung was a negative, passive youth, pushed on by these two men, who were his advisers, and the authors of all the troubles; and that after the victory he would take care to punish them both as they deserved.” Once he wrote us a letter, to invite us over to his army, under promises of promoting us to the utmost of our wishes, should we quit Sháocat-djung’s service. But we did not write him an answer, lest we should expose ourselves to a variety of reports. We contented ourselves with giving the messenger this verbal answer: “Tell your master, that should we now go over to his service, at such a time as this, what confidence could he repose in us? It seems that the victorious remembered of this answer; for two or three days after the battle, he, of his own motion, ordered both Naky-aaly-qhan, and Habib-beg, his prisoners, to be put each in a chopalah, or chair, and carried beyond the Kurrum-nassa, with a sufficient sum of money to bear their charges. He at the same time, sent Radja Mohon-lal to take possession of the treasures and effects of Sháocat-djung’s, and ordered Mir-cazem-qhan to attend on him with his corps. As this officer was son-in-law to my maternal aunt, he took the liberty to represent to that Prince that “Gho8lam-hussëin-qhan, if alive, must be at P8raniah, with his consort, children, and family, as well as his brother, Naky-aaly-qhan’s family; and that he hoped from his goodness that no ill usage should be offered to either, as it might affect his slave’s honour, or cast a slur on his sentiments of attachment to that family. May it please your Highness (added he) to give your Princely orders to the Maha-radja accordingly.” By a particular good luck, it happened that this Minister was himself present; and the Prince turning to him, said these very words: “Radja Mohon-lal, you must not think that Gho8lam-hussëin-qhan’s mother is only related to the brave Mir-cazem-qhan. She is my own aunt, and I profess a high regard for her. Take care that no injury is offered them. Furnish them with money and with a pass, that they depart with safety and decency; and that they may repair whithersoever they may have a mind to.”

This order was the more opportune for us, as from the field of battle, I had repaired directly to my house in P8raniah, where I knew that my mother, overcome by her fears and anxiety, was beside herself. I endeavoured to console and comfort her; but she observed, that we must now seek out for some corner, and live in it in retirement, until we might see what would be the end of all these troubles. I listened to the advice, and taking my consort, and a small number of attendants, I retired into a corner, where I remained concealed, and from thence I wrote to Mir-cazem-qhan (may God’s forgiveness be upon that good man). On receiving my note, he answered it directly, and accompanied it by some troopers of his own, who had orders to protect my lodgings. Himself set out on the third day after the battle, and came to P8raniah in company with Radja Mohon-lal, where he took up his abode in my lodgings, and from whence he spared the pains in saving my property, and in protecting my person; exerting himself in the handsomest and noblest manner. Mohon-lal, it is true, sent for the elephants and some of the serpitches that had been presented me by Sháocat-djung, but laid his hands upon nothing else. Some persons, like Mir-maaly-qhan, and Aga-mir, with some others, were confined, by the Prince’s order; but no opposition was made to my sending by land part of my baggage, and by water all my furniture, and every thing belonging to me; after which I set out myself for Azim-abad. When arrived there, some Mussulmen, our acquaintances, took care to have us refused the liberty of coming into the city; and we therefore took up our abode in Shah-erzan’s cell and habitation, an old acquaintance of mine, who prevented us from going farther. This, however, was doubtless in hopes of our being overtaken by some subsequent order, that would not please us, but would afford him much pleasure. Praise be to God, that his expectation was disappointed, and that the order he so much wished did not arrive at all. Luckily for us, that Ram-naráin, the Governor of the province, who had been to visit his Badjinat^\(114\), chanced now to return to Azim-abad, where he had the goodness to urge our deparfure; and unwillng to give us an escort himself, he gave us a pass, but directed Phaluvan-sing and his brother to afford us the escort. Meanwhile I fell sick in that cell of Shah-erzan’s, and was very ill; but none of our numerous friends and acquaintances in the city thought proper to pay us a visit or to see how we did. Out of such a number of acquaintances, only three persons thought proper to remember us. The first was Doctor Gho8lam-aaly-qhan, a Physician (whom God may lodge in a corner of his mercy!); he came to see me, just as he had done in our days of prosperity, and afforded me his visits as a friend, and his care and medicines, as a Physician. The second was the Lady Misri-begum^\(115\); she was a relation of Mirza-darab’s, daughter of Mir-séyed-mahmed the Ispanian, and a consort to Mir-háider-aaly the forgiven. May God Almighty preserve that worthy lady in health and prosperity, and may He vouchsafe to render her happy in the next world! With a motherly tenderness, and the most sedulous solicitude, she was day and night with us; and she accompanied us in our journey, as far as Muhyb-aaly-p8r; so that it required our joint efforts, and our entreaties, to make her return; else, her intention was to accompany us as far as the Kuremnassa, which was the last boundary of Seradj-ed-döulah’s dominions. We live now at a distance from her; but even at such a distance this chaste, pious, and worthy lady exerts for this Poor Man all the solicitude of the tenderest mother. The third person who remembered us, was the late Sheh-nasr-ollah, son to Ynáyét-yahhia-qhan, heretofore steward to my forgiven father, and in the sequel, to Zin-eddin-ahmed-qhan, Governor of Azim-abad (on whom may God’s mercy rest for ever!). He was then a young man, and had been so lucky, as to have obtained, through the pious and worthy Shah-mahmed-aaly-hezin’s intercession, the post of steward to the Nizamut of Azim-abad. This young man, under pretence of visiting Shah-erzan’s monument, came several times to see me; nor did he miss any means in his power to procure us a safe retreat out of Seradj-ed-döulah’s dominions. God be thanked for it. By a particular disposition of his infinite goodness, we travelled in safety throughout that hostile country, which was before us; and I arrived in health, with all my family and effects, at the city of Banaress; where I had the happiness to kiss the feet of that venerable, pious man, His Highness Sheh-mahmed-hezin, and the honour of paying my respects to my maternal uncle, Séyd-abdol-aaly-qhan, the Valiant in Battles, who was then out of employment, and lived in that city in the utmost distress. As an addition to my good luck, I met in the city my younger brother, Naky-aaly-qhan, who had been so fortunate as to get safe out of the hands of such a tyrant as Seradj-ed-döulah. I also met there my two other brothers, who had been already banished some time ago from Azim-abad, by order of that Prince. Thanks are due to God Almighty, for these benefits, and for the many such benefits, which I have received besides in the course of my life; thanks and glory be to His goodness, for every one of them! Mohon-lal employed the few days he remained at P8raniah in assembling and sending to M8rsh8d-abad the treasures and effects of Sáyd-ahmed-qhan, as well as his women, and children, which latter were kinsmen and relations of Seradj-ed-döulah’s. To these he added Sipahdar-djung, son to Séif-qhan, who was also sent with the utmost regard and honour to M8rsh8d-abad. This nobleman had espoused one of Sáyd-ahmed-qhan’s daughters, a Princess that died when her father was engaged in the expedition against Mahmed-djelil, the Zeminder of Cagra. Mohon-lal also took care to resume the many extravagant gifts which Sháocat-djung had at times bestowed; and after establishing order in the country, so as to arrange every matter of Government, and finance, he appointed a person to act as his deputy, and repaired to his master, who took care to assign suitable pensions to every one of his cousins. He carried them to his capital, where he took up his abode in a new palace of his, called Mans8r-gunj, and lived in all the pride of victory and prosperity.

This Prince, now in the full blaze of success, had asembled in his palace, all the treasures hoarded up by several preceding Seradj-ed-döulah’s
prosperity declines. Princes, with an infinity of precious effects and jewels, that had been the fruit of the searches and toil of several illustrious houses and families. He seemed then in the zenith of power and prosperity; but it was at this very time that preparations were making for his ruin; and it was at this very time his fortune was verging to a decline. Nor is this a novel thing. It is the constant course of events all over the world, that whenever things have risen to their zenith, they after that period verge towards a decline, and tend to their ruin. For every completion naturally advances to a declension, and sometimes brings it on in so complete a manner, that people have been at a loss how to find out the footsteps and traces of former prosperity. The manner in which Seradj-ed-döulah’s fortune and dominion were brought to that predicament is, in few words, as follows:—

Mr. Drake, that Chief Man of Calcutta, who had been the author and cause of all these troubles and all this ruin, having fled on board a ship with a few gentlemen that had escaped the engagement, had retired to Mendradj, a factory of consequence, which the English have in Decan, in the province of Arcat; and probably he was followed thither by some other English, of the better sort, who being then dispersed all over Bengal for the purposes of trade, had found means, after the capture of Calcutta, to make good their way to Decan, through a variety of dangers. There was then in those parts a Commander in the King of Inghilter’s service, but appointed to attend on the Company; an officer who after many years’ war had conquered several countries of Decan from the French, and was now living at Mandradj, where he commanded a small force that did not amount to more than one or two Paltans of Talingas^\(116\), and three or four companies of European soldiers. This Commander, by his many victories over the French in Decan, had been greatly instrumental in rescuing from their overgrown influence the Sovereign of that country, Sáyd-mahmed-qhan-selabet-djung, son to Nizam-el-mulk. So many successes had procured him the title of The Steady and Tried in War^\(117\), and he was considered as a General Sabut-djung, alias Colonel Clive, appears in Bengal. warrior of consequence. This Commander having assembled the principal men of the factory of Mendradj, together with those that had escaped from the hands of Seradj-ed-döulah, threw the dice of consultation amongst them. The unanimous result of their deliberations was, that the brave, the Tried in Battles, Colonel Clive, should repair into Bengal with those gentlemen that had escaped from thence, and should endeavour by every means which he could devise, to rebuild the factory there, and to re-establish the Company’s trade in the manner it had existed heretofore. This he was at liberty to effect, whether by paying a sum of money, or by force and violence, just as circumstances should point out. Colonel Clive, after this deliberation, embarked on board of some ships, together with the gentlemen escaped from the factory of Calcutta; and taking with him what troops and artillery were ready and at hand, he arrived with his ships at that part of the river called the Blue-water^\(118\), where the Bagrauty joins the sea, and where he cast anchor. But as the Commanders of that nation are prudent, wary, and experienced in affairs, as well as extremely brave in a day of battle, he thought it incumbent upon him, first of all, to try what could be done in the way of negotiation; and with that view he wrote to Seradj-ed-döulah, “to intercede in behalf of Mr. Drake, whose trespasses he requested might be forgiven; to offer some lacs of rupees for leave to rebuild the English factory, on the former footing; and for re-establishing the English trade in his dominions: a salutary measure, by which he doubted not but the dust of dissension and mutual discontent might be wiped off from each other’s eyes.” Seradj-ed-döulah, who was the most senseless and ignorant of men, and who had favourites still more extravagant than himself, held a consultation with his Grandees, upon these proposals; but found not a man that would advise him to accept of a peace on the proffered conditions. For the English being known in Bengal only as merchants, neither himself, nor any of his favourites, had any idea of the courage and abilities of that nation in war, nor any idea of their many resources in a day of reverse. And on the other hand, those that had some right notions of the matter, did not dare to open their mouth; and indeed, had they opened it, no one would have listened to their words; besides that every one of them, tired with Seradj-ed-döulah’s Government, and reduced to despair by his tyranny, wished ardently to see him embarked in some enterprise that might end in his ruin. It was even dangerous to say any thing of peace; and if any one did dare to say as much, he never failed to be laid hold of by the others. Those ignorant favourites of his, would seize the adviser by the throat, and gripe it so hard as to make him ask for quarter, and swear that he would never mention that tale of his again.

Advices of all this having been duely imparted to Colonel Clive, and himself being now fully apprised of the dissensions sown in the country, and of the peculiar turn of mind of all the Grandees of the Court, he grew tired of waiting to no purpose for an answer, which no one thought of sending, and he prepared himself for acting with open force, and for an offensive war. He brought his ships to an anchor over against Manic-chund’s lodgings, and commenced a cannonade; but having soon observed in the enemy’s motions much ignorance and confusion, he landed his men and artillery, and marched against him. The senseless Governor of the place, intimidated by so much boldness, and not finding in himself courage enough to stand an engagement, thought it prudent to decline a nearer approach, and he fled with all his might. The English General seeing the enemy disappeared, Calcutta retaken by the English. took possession of the factory and fort, raised everywhere his victorious standards, and sent the refugee gentlemen every one to his ancient abode, and every one to his own home. Such a piece of intelligence having soon been conveyed to M8rsh8d-abad, could not fail to disorder greatly that stuffing of pride and ignorance, with which Seradj-ed-döulah had been at so much pains to fill his head and ears; and he prepared to come to Calcutta to oppose the progress of the English. Such being the instability of human things, that two months and twenty-two days had hardly elapsed since the conquest of P8raniah; and hardly had that Prince commenced to repose in his palace in the security of success and victory, when at once there appeared signs of that retribution due to his actions, as well as tokens of the declension of his power. It was the 12th of the second Reby, in the year 1170, when he quitted his capital to march to Calcutta, A. D. 1757. fully bent on expelling the English. He was followed by a numerous army, furnished with every necessary for war. Being near Calcutta, he encamped in a spot of ground that had hit his fancy, and which he thought advantageous likewise. From thence he was every day making attempts to recover possession of that town, and yet every day listened to proposals of peace. Insomuch that both war and peace subsisted at one and the same time; whilst the English, who had their particular views in that doubtful state of things, made it a practice now and then to come into camp, under pretence of an agreement, but in fact to examine it, as they intended all this while to surprise the enemy; and such a manœuvre required a man that should take a full knowledge of the chart of the country. They took care therefore to send with their envoys a man conversant in Geometry, and who to that talent added an enlarged understanding, a keen memory, and much acuteness of comprehension. This man, in his frequent trips, acquired a comprehensive notion of Seradj-ed-döulah’s camp, as well as of his own private quarters, with all the roads that led thither, and every other important matter, that had a relation to his object; so that after having hoarded up all that knowledge in his memory, he made on his return a very circumstantial report of what he had observed. Probably the next night after that man’s return, but certainly two or three nights after, the English, who had formed the project of a night-attack, put their troops in boats at about two in the morning, and rowed towards the extremity of the enemy’s camp, where they remained waiting during the latter part of the night. At about the dawn of the day they landed on the back part of the army, and entered the camp, where they leisurely commenced a hot fire, which being repeated by those in the boats, rendered musquet-balls as common as hailstones in a storm; so that vast numbers of men and horses, which happened to be exposed to it, were slain or wounded. Dost-mahmed-qhan, who was not only a principal Commander in the army, and a man of great personal valour, but also one of the most attached to Seradj-ed-döulah, was wounded and disabled. Numbers of other officers, whose names I know not, underwent the same fate; and it is reported that the design was no less than to lay hold of Seradj-ed-döulah himself, and to carry him away. Luckily for him, there fell such a fog and mist, of the kind called in Hindian, cohessa, and it occasioned such a darkness, that two men, though ever so close, could not distinguish each other. This darkness made the enemy mistake their way, as well as Seradj-ed-döulah’s private enclosure; so that this Prince escaped narrowly. It was observed of the English, that they marched steadily, with order and deliberation, as if it had been a review day, firing endlessly on every side, until they arrived at the front of the camp, from whence they returned lisureley to their posts and fortified houses, without suffering the loss of a single man.

This strange attack intimidated to a high degree both Seradj-ed-döulah, and his disorderly, timorous army, which was in such a dismay and confusion, as to anticipate all the horrors of the Day of Judgment. Henceforward it became dangerous to remain encamped close to an enemy, so daring, and so alert; and he resolved to carry his camp farther; but first of all, he sent for Mahmed-iredj-qhan, his father-in-law, as well as for the principal Grandees of his Court, and the chief Commanders of his army; and having assembled them in his tent, he asked them what was now to be done, and where he must encamp? The assembly, on observing his fright and panic, advised him to encamp at a good distance, and to listen to proposals of peace. But by this time the English, fully sensible of his pusillanimity, and thoroughly acquainted with the intrigues in his Court, had altered their tone of voice; and they talked of his making good the whole amount of what had been plundered by himself or by his army at the sack of Calcutta, an amount that rose to an immense sum. At last, after many interviews, and much negotiation, and many schemes about war and peace, it was agreed on both sides, that Seradj-ed-döulah should make good in ready money the amount of the loss undergone by the Company; and that as a security for the other losses, he should deliver into the hands of the English six Perganahs or Districts in the neighbourhood of Calcutta, with the product of which they were to indemnify themselves fully; after which the Districts in question were to revert to the Navvab’s officers. Mr. Watch was the person employed in these negotiations, and in the conclusion of the treaty, where he acquired the good will of both parties, and was applauded by both sides. This man had been taken prisoner at Cassim-bazar, but had recovered his liberty on Seradj-ed-döulah’s defeat. The mutual bonds and obligations being exchanged, that Prince decamped from the neighbourhood of Calcutta, and returned to M8rsh8d-abad. There on revolving in his palace of Mansour-gunj upon the catastrophe he had met with, he was confounded with wonder at a reverse of fortune of which he never had so much as conceived an idea; and he was at a loss what party to take. He now remembered some matters that had passed, and some actions of his now recurred to his mind. He now commenced feeling remorses, and he became sensible that there was such a being as an avenging God. His Generals and friends now commenced to desert his Court; and Dost-mahmed-qhan, one of his bravest and most zealous Commanders, obtained leave to retire, in order to get cured of his wounds; so that he availed himself of that permission to go to Sarsaram, as a place of safety, where he might lodge his family and children. Mir-djaafer-qhan himself ceased to go to Court, and he lived retired in his own quarters. As that General, as well as Radja Dollub-ram were at the head of the army, and they seemed of late to have become a different sort of men from what they had been, Seradj-ed-döulah concluded that they must be at the head of the malcontents, and the very persons that blew the fire of dissension. Of course that they deserved an exemplary punishment; but he had not the courage necessary for such a vigorous action. He remembered moreover that he had such an enemy as the English at his elbow; and on the other hand, his innate pride and vanity, as well as his natural perverseness and ignorance, did not allow his making up matters with those two Commanders, by such a conduct as might recover their hearts. Nor did he feel in himself vigour enough to seize their persons by open force, and to exile them from the regions of life and existence; nor was there any one amongst those new Ministers, favourites, and Generals of his, (every one of whom was as incapable and as thoughtless as himself) that had courage enough to acknowledge his own unfitness for such important concerns, and to advise his master to alter his system of conduct; and instead of consuming himself with cares, anxieties, and bodily labour, to call together the ancient Ministers and Generals formed by Aaly-verdy-qhan, to gain their hearts by a condescending behaviour, and to entrust them with the management of his affairs. His new favourites ought in such a distressed state of his affairs, to have laid down their own pretensions, and exhorted him to call to his assistance all the abilities and talents of his kingdom. They ought to have said with a common voice: “My Lord, to complete our wishes, and to fill the measure of our ambition, is an easy matter. Whenever you are yourself powerful, and honoured, some beams of your own glory shall surely be reflected on our own persons; but now think only of putting at the head of your affairs those old Generals and Ministers that have already a character.” This was the language which they ought to have held, and which no one would hold. But his own thoughts were so uncertain as yet, and so fluctuating was his behaviour, that after having been for some time intent on schemes of reconciliation, he was at once so overcome by his anger and resentment, as to order cannon to be planted against Mir-djaafer-qhan’s house. Radja D8ll8b-ram was no less dissatisfied, and difficult to manage; he would not hear of submitting to Mohon-lal’s superiority. And on the other hand, Djaagat-seat, the principal citizen of the capital, whom he had often used with slight and derision, and whom he had mortally affronted, by sometimes threatening him with circumcision, was in his heart totally alienated and lost.

Just at this crisis the flames of war broke out between the French and the English: two nations that had disputes amongst themselves of five or six hundred years standing; and which after proceeding to bloodshed, wars, battles, and massacres, for a number of years, would lay down their arms by common agreement, and take breath on both sides, in order to come to blows again, and to fight with as much fury as ever. The French were everywhere beaten in Decan; and Admiral-dilir-djung-bahadyr^\(119\) came down with his ships to attack Farash-danga, which is two or three cosses from H8gly, and close to Chichira, an Hollandish settlement and town. He was incited to this enterprise by M8sher-terno^\(120\), who forgetting what he owed to his own nation, pointed out to him a particular passage, which the French had left open in the Bagrati, for their own ships to pass, in case of need; for they had spoiled the whole breadth of the river by sinking a number of vessels. The Admiral-dilir-djung, under such a guide, advanced up with his ships of war, and took by force the French fortress. The French were vanquished, and they lost likewise the factory they had at the Cassima-bazar. In this extremity, M8sher Lass (Monsieur Law), who was a Commander of character amongst them, assembled the few remains of his nation; and with these, and some cannon, and some musqueteers which he had disciplined, he marched to M8rsh8d-abad, where he took service with Seradj-ed-döulah. The English being informed of this, were provoked; and whether by the instigation of the discontented Grandees, now become their confederates, or of their own motion, they represented to him by the means of their agent, that it was proper and convenient that the enemies and friends of the English should be deemed the enemies and friends of Seradj-ed-döulah, in the same manner as his enemies and friends were reputed the enemies and friends of the Enghish; they insisted that it was obligatory on both sides, as being a special article in the late treaty. “Now, added they, as we have beaten the French, and driven them away; and that Prince has taken them under his protection, and he intends to keep them in his service; such a conduct, being contrary to agreement, may occasion a breach in the treaty, and give birth again to troubles and dissensions.” These representations of the English agent were supported by malcontents that wished Seradj-ed-döulah’s downfall. They contended, “that to fall out with the English, for such a parcel of runaways, was very improper; and that he had better dismiss those strangers.” Seradj-ed-döulah, upon those representations, sent for M8sher Lass, and had a long conference with him. “The latter observed that should that Prince choose to give his protection to the affairs of the French Company, for the sake of the French refugees, such a proceeding might be reputed an infraction of this treaty; but that to entertain a few fugitives amongst the many thousands of other nations in his service, could never be deemed a breach of the articles.” This answer pleased Seradj-ed-döulah, and he gave it to the English agents; but these, supported and instigated by his numerous enemies, repeated their former pretension, and made great instances. Those enemies of his were equally artful and numerous; and under the cloak of zeal and attachment, they were perpetually urging in his ears, “that to fall out with such foes as the English, for the sake of an handful of wretched fugitives, was not a prudent proceeding; but rather such as might be productive of evil and repentance.” Seradj-ed-döulah, overcome by these repeated instances, advised M8sher Lass to repair to Azim-abad; and he spoke much in order to bring him to his opinion. Lass, on his departure, told the Navvab, that “most of his servants, Ministers, and Generals, either were disaffected Answer of M8sher-Lass the French Commander, and his prediction. to his person, or had already entered into a correspondence with the English; and that it was out of disaffection to his person they were so desirous of seeing the French at a distance. That those same men after the departure of the French, would embroil him with the English, and thereby would find opportunities to advance their own affairs, and to ruin those of their master’s; but that so long as he, with his handful of French, would be in his service, no one would dare to lay his hands upon Seradj-ed-döulah, and none would serve him so well in a day of battle. That after giving him that piece of advice, he would leave him to his own choice in taking what resolution he might please.” This speech made an impression on Seradj-ed-döulah; but as he did not dare to keep him in his service, for fear of offending the English, he told him that at present it was fit that he should depart; and that if there should happen any thing new, he would send for him again. “Send for me again?” answered Lass. “Rest assured, my Lord Navvab,” added he, “that this is the last time we shall see each other. Remember my words. We shall never meet again; it is nearly impossible.” After saying these few words, he departed for Azim-abad; and this departure seemed to serve as a signal for the parties to exert themselves. For now the dissensions between Seradj-ed-döulah and his two principal Generals rose to so great a height, that these two Commanders confederated with the Djagat-seats, and the other disaffected Grandees; and all these joined together in the scheme of oversetting Seradj-ed-döulah, whose character of ferocity and thoughtlessness kept them in continual alarms, and whose fickleness of temper made them tremble. It was in those conjunctures that an ancient enemy of his appeared again upon the stage of the world. This was Bibi Gahassity-begum, a Princess that had a rooted aversion to him, and whose heart was ulcerated by his having turned her out of her property and home. She now leagued herself secretly with Mir-djaafer-qhan, and gave him much assistance, by making interest in his behalf with every one whom she thought to have conserved some attachment to her concerns. “To these she presented, by the means of trusty advocates, a long list of the wrongs she had endured. To these she sent secret messages, to claim at their hands all the rights which Aaly-verdy-qhan’s daughter, and Nevazish-mahmed-qhan’s consort, must have acquired over their gratitude. She recalled to their minds all the favours they had received from her family, recapitulated the violences she had suffered, and exhorted them to join Mir-djaafer-qhan and Radja D8ll8b-ram.” And as in the moment that preceded the capture of Moti-djill, she had contrived to secret some gold, by the means of some trusty old women and eunuchs, she now took care to distribute it adroitly; and she even sent some to Mir-djaafer-qhan. This General on his side distributed his money wherever he thought it would be effectual; and he exerted himself so well in taking in his pay every disbanded soldier, and every hungry adventurer he heard of, that he soon assembled secretly in his house and in his quarter a very respectable force. Affairs being now come to that point; and every one of the Grandees tending to one common centre in view, which was to remove Seradj-ed-döulah; every one pointed his efforts that way; every one, firmly persuaded that the concurrence of the English was a necessary piece to the completion of his wishes, was exhorting them to break with that Prince. Djagat-seat was one of the foremost of them, and he had also the best opportunities. By the means of his mercantile agent, Emin-chund, one of the principal bankers of Calcutta, he was perpetually exciting the English to a rupture. Radja D8l8b-ram likewise had his agent there on the same errand; and Mir-djaafer-qhan sent thither his friend and confidant, that same Mirza-emir-beg, whom we have already mentioned as a generous man, who had carried untouched to the English fugitives some ladies of theirs: an action by which he had ingratiated himself in their minds. By his means he represented to the English “the wrongs he had suffered, the injuries offered to all the Grandees, and the resolution they had unanimously taken to rid themselves of Seradj-ed-döulah.” His agent went so far as to shew the very paper, signed by all the malcontents, by which they promised to stand by him against Seradj-ed-döulah. He then added these words: “Do you, Gentlemen, but put yourselves in motion, and come to some skirmish with Seradj-ed-döulah; and we engage, after that, to do his business amongst ourselves effectually. By a small motion of yours, you shall put it in our power to rid ourselves and the world of the oppressions and violences of the tyrant.” After such a confidence, he promised to pay them three corors of rupees for their interference, and engaged his master’s faith for some other concessions which were stipulated, but of which I have no particular information. These conditions were sworn to, and bankers engaged themselves as sureties for the money. This promise was followed by a list of the injuries and oppressions that had been offered to Biby-gahassity, and to the others. These instigations could not but make their effect upon the English. This nation, which has not its equal in prowess, and courage, and strength of mind, but which is as covetous as any other; (and indeed where is the man, who in the pride of conscious power and victory, has not an avidity for conquests, especially if the means be ready, and already provided at his hand?) the English, I say, on being informed of the state of things at M8rsh8d-abad, held a great council, the result of which was “that the proposals and offers of Mir-djaafer-qhan and Radja D8l8b-ram ought to be accepted, and that preparations ought immediately to be made for declaring war.” But as it is not customary with this nation, nor indeed with any man of sense, to break with any one, without a sufficient subject, it is probable that in their negotiations with Seradj-ed-dönlah, they had found some grave subject that might warrant a rupture. Of this, indeed, I could get no information; but probably they found it in the dilatoriness and neglect of the payment of the sum of money stipulated for the plunder made in Calcutta; and to all appearance that Prince himself found it hard to part with such a sum as one coror of rupees, for a promise made only in a moment of necessity. Be it as it may, the resolution for war having been taken at Calcutta, Colonel Clive, better known under the title of Sabut-djung, prepared to march with the troops and necessaries which he had at hand. This intelligence struck Seradj-ed-döulah. Sensible now that he had no other resource but that of regaining the hearts of his enemies, he at once made his appearance at the wicket of dissimulation and at the gate of caresses; but he advanced nothing by that step. For, as says the Poet:

The Prince at the same time sent part of his forces to Palassy, under the command of Radja D8l8b-ram, with orders to prepare an intrenched camp, and everything necessary for defence and war. That Commander repaired thither, and in appearance, seemed busy in executing the orders he had received; but in fact he was only intent upon his own business; for he not only entered into a private agreement with the English, but added some articles to their treaty with Mir-djaafer-qhan, whilst at the same time he was daily gaining to his party some officers amongst the troops he commanded, under promise of doing for them something according to their own wishes. The same management was likewise practised in town by Mir-djaafer-qhan, who now commenced to appear at Court, but always well accompanied. The defection became now so general, that it is credibly reported that by this time few men remained in their hearts attached to Seradj-ed-döulah; all the rest having been gained over by these two Commanders. The report being now spread that Colonel Clive had moved from Calcutta at the head of an army, this intelligence engaged that Prince to draw from his ears that cotton of sloth and neglect with which he had stuffed them. With visible reluctance of mind, and a heart big with grief and despondence, he quitted his palace of Mans8r-gundj, and marched with those troops in which he reposed a confidence, that is, those belonging to Mir-meden, and to Radja Mohon-lal, and a few others, with which he arrived at Palassy. On the opposite side, Colonel Clive, with the troops of his own nation, and some bodies of Talingas, (the whole of his army not amounting to more than two or three thousand men), took post in the grove of Palassy,^\(121\) where he shewed himself in battle array. A. D. 1757. It was on a Thursday, the fifth of Shevval, in the year 1170; and there the fire of battle and slaughter, that had been hitherto kept alive under a heap of embers, now blazed out into flames. But as the nation of Hat-wearers have no equals in the art of firing their artillery and musquetry with both order and rapidity, there commenced such an incessant rain of balls and bullets, and such a hot endless firing, that the spectators themselves were amazed and confounded; and those in the battle had their hearing deafened by the continual thunder, and their eye-sight dimmed by the endless flashing of the execution. All this while Mir-djaafer-qhan, the author of all these evils and troubles, contented himself with standing at a distance with the troops under his command, exactly like one who had come only to see the engagement, although his sole aim was to effect Seradj-ed-döulah’s downfall. But this was not the case with Mir-meden, and a few others, who were in earnest, and wished to gain the victory; these were in despair on seeing that inaction. The cannon-balls meanwhile fell so thick amongst them, that this officer did not dare to come to a close engagement; but yet he advanced little by little in good order and with a good countenance, till at last he and Mohon-lal arrived near the grove of Palassy, from whence the English made so violent a fire. It was at about three o’clock in the afternoon. It is reported that the Colonel, at sight of this, severely reprimanded some agent, who was then near his person, and said, “that his master had promised and pledged himself, that the troops, as well as the Commanders, were totally alienated from Seradj-ed-döulah; and that as soon as some engagement should take place, they would do his business effectually.” As much as I can see, added the Colonel, the very reverse of all that is taking place. The agent answered, that “those that were now pressing upon him, were those corps that were attached to Seradj-ed-döulah; and that whenever these should be vanquished, the Colonel would not fail to see tokens of what he (the agent) had promised.” And in reality the day of retribution was now come; for Seradj-ed-döulah and his fortune had now become liable to the laws of retaliation. That valorous Mir-meden, who now behaved so well in the engagement, and who to his heroical valour joined sentiments of attachment and zeal, was overset by a cannon-ball, whilst he was advancing and encouraging his men. This ball, as if sent by an express to exact a tribute upon his existence, carried away one of his thighs, and in appearance left him for dead. He was already winging his flight into eternity, when they brought him in that condition to his Prince; to whom the dying warrior having had just time to say a few words concerning his zeal and the dispositions he had made for the engagement, soon surrendered his soul to his Maker. Such a spectacle struck Seradj-ed-döulah. He was troubled and confounded, and seemed to have lost his presence of mind. He sent for Mir-djaafer-qhan, and patiently waited till the other should be pleased to come. But that General having shewn a disinclination from such an interview, repeated messages and pressing solicitations became necessary to put him in motion. At last he came, accompanied by his son, Miren, alias Mir-mahmed-sadyc-qhan, by Qhadem-hassen-qhan, and by a numerous body of his friends and followers, well-armed. Seradj-ed-döulah spoke to him in the humblest strain, and at last descended to the lowest supplications; he even took his turbant from off his head, (at least this was the report) and placed it before the General; to whom he addressed these very words: I now repent of what I have done; and availing myself of those ties of consanguinity which subsist between us, as well as of those rights which my grandfather, Aaly-verdy-qhan, has doubtless acquired upon your gratitude, I look up to you, as to the only representative of that venerable personage; and hope therefore, that, forgetting my past trespasses, you shall henceforward behave as becomes a Séyd, a man united in blood to me, and a man of sentiments, who conserves a grateful remembrance of all the benefits he has received from my family. I recommend myself to you; take care of the conservation of my honour and life.^\(122\) This affecting speech had no effect on Mir-djaafer-qhan, who finding that the occasion for which he had been looking out this long while, was now at hand, thought only of availing himself of it; so far was he from forgetting what indeed he ought to have forgotten. Treason having already taken possession of his heart, he coldly answered, that the day was now drawing to its end; and that there remained no time for an attack. Send a counter order to the troops that are advancing, said he; recall those engaged; and to-morrow, with the blessing of God, I will join all the troops together, and provide for the engagement. Seradj-ed-doulah observed, that they might be attacked by the enemy in the night. This also the General took upon himself to provide against, and he promised that the enemy would not form a night attack.

By this time Mohon-lal, who had advanced with Mir-meden, was closely engaged with the enemy; his cannon was served with effect;^\(123\) and his infantry having availed themselves of some covers and other grounds, were pouring a quantity of bullets in the enemy’s ranks. It was at this moment he received the order of failing back, and of retreating. He answered: “That this was not a time to retreat; that the action was so far advanced, that whatever might happen, would happen now; and that should he turn his head, to march back to camp, his people would disperse, and perhaps abandon themselves to an open flight.” Seradj-ed-döulah, on this answer, turned towards Mir-djaafer-qhan, and the latter coldly answered: “That the advice he had proposed was the best in his power; and that as to the rest, His Highness was the master of taking his own resolutions.” Seradj-ed-döulah intimidated by his General’s coldness, and overcome by his own fears and apprehensions, renounced his own natural sense, and submitted to Mir-djaafer-qhan’s pleasure; he sent repeated orders, with pressing messages, to Mohon-lal; who at last obeyed, and retreated from the post to which he had advanced.

Verses:

This retreat of Mohon-lal’s made a full impression on his troops. The sight of their General’s retreat damped their courage;