ous Hindoos. A formidable confederacy was formed against him; in which were included Roydullub, the minister of finance, Meer Jaffer, the principal commander of the troops, and Jugget Seit, the richest banker in India. The plot was confided to the English agents, and a communication was opened between the malcontents at Moorshedabad and the committee at Calcutta. In the committee there was much hesitation; but Clive's voice was given in favour of the conspirators, and his vigour and firmness bore down all opposition. It was determined that the English should lend their powerful assistance to depose Surajah Dowlah, and to place Meer Jaffer on the throne of Bengal. In return, Meer Jather promised ample compensation to the company and its servants, and a liberal donative to the army, the navy, and the committee. The odious vices of Surajah Dowlah, the wrongs which the English had suffered at his hands, the dangers to which our trade must have been exposed had he continued to reign, appear to us fully to justify the resolution of deposing him. But nothing can justify the dissimulation which Clive stooped to practise. He wrote to Surajah Dowlah in terms so affectionate that they for a time lulled that weak prince to perfect security. The same courier who carried this "soothing letter," as Clive calls it, to the Nabob, carried to Mr. Watts a letter in the following terms:-"Tell Meer Jaffier to fear nothing. I will join him with five thousand men who never turned their backs. Assure him I will march night and day to his assistance, and stand by him as long as I have a man left." It was impossible that a plot which nad so many ramifications should long remain entirely concealed. Enough reached the ears of the Nabob to arouse his suspicions. But he was soon quieted by the fictions and artifices which the inventive genius of Omichund produced with miraculous readiness. All was going well; the plot was nearly ripe; when Clive learned that Omichund was likely to play false. The artful Bengalee had been promised a liberal compensation for all that he had lost at Calcutta. But this would not satisfy him. His services had been great. He held the thread of the whole intrigue. By one word breathed in the ear of Surajah Dowlah, he could undo all that he had done. The lives of Watts, of Meer Jaffier, of all the conspirators, were at his mercy; and he determined to take advantage of his situation, and to make his own terms. He demanded three hundred thousand pounds sterling, as the price of his secrecy and of his assistance. The committee, incensed by the treachery, and appalled by the danger, knew not what course to take. But Clive was more than Omichund's match in Omichund's own arts. The man, he said, was a villain. Any artifice which would defeat such knavery was justifiable. The best course would be to promise what was asked. Omichund would soon be at their mercv. and then they might punish him by withholding from him, not only the bribe which he now demanded, but also the compensation which all the other sufferers of Calcutta were to receive. His advice was taken; but how was the wary and sagacious Hindoo to be deceived? He had demanded that an article touching his claims should be inserted in the treaty between Meer Jaflier and the English, and he would not be satisfied unless he saw it with his own eyes. Clive had an expedient ready. Two treaties were drawn up, one on white paper, the other on red-the former real, the latter fictitious. In the former Omichund's name was not mentioned; the latter, which was to be shown to him, contained a stipulation in his favour. But another difficulty arose. Admiral Watson had scruples about signing the red treaty. Omichund's vigilance and acuteness were such, that the absence of so important a name would probably awaken his suspicions. But Clive was not a man to do any thing by halves. We almost blush to write it. He forged Admiral Watson's name. All was now ready for action. Mr. Watts fled secretly from Moorshedabad. Clive put his troops in motion, and wrote to the Nabob in a tone very different from that of his previous letters. He set forth all the wrongs which the British had suffered, offered to submit the points in dispute to the arbitration of Meer Jaffier; and concluded by announcing that, as the rains were about to set in, he and his men would do themselves the honour of waiting on his highness for an answer. Surajah Dowlah instantly assembled his whole force, and marched to encounter the English. It had been agreed that Meer Jaffier should separate himself from the Nabob, and carry over his division to Clive. But as the decisive moment approached, the fears of the conspirator overpowered his ambition. Clive had advanced to Cossimbuzar; the Nabob lay with a mighty power a few miles off at Plassey; and still Meer Jaffier delayed to fulfil his engagements, and returned evasive answers to the earnest remonstrances of the English general. Clive was in a painfully anxious situation. He could place no confidence in the sincerity or in the courage of his confederate; and, whatever confidence he might place in his own military talents, and in the valour and disci pline of his troops, it was no light thing to engage an army twenty times as numerous as his own. Before him lay a river over which it was easy to advance, but over which, if things went ill, not one of his little band would ever return. On this occasion, for the first and for the last time, his dauntless spirit, during a few hours, shrank from the fearful responsibility of making a decision. He called a council of war. The majority pronounced against fighting; and Clive declared his concurrence with the majority. Long afterwards, he said that he had never called but one council of war, and that, if he had taken the advice of that council, the British would never have been masters of Bengal. But scarcely had the meeting broken up when he was himself again. He retired alone under the shade of some trees, and passed near an hour there in thought. He came back determined to put every thing to the hazard, and gave orders that all should be in readiness for passing the river on the mor row. The river was passed, and at the close of a toilsome day's march, the army, long after sunset, took up its quarters in a grove of mangotrees near Plassey, within a mile of the enemy. Clive was unable to sleep: he heard, through the whole night, the sounds of drums and cymbals from the vast camp of the Nabob. It is not strange that even his stout heart should now and then have sunk when he reflected against what odds and for what a prize he was in a few hours to contend. men, who alone ventured to confront the Eng lish, were swept down the stream of fugitives. In an hour the forces of Surajan Dowlah were dispersed, never to reassemble Only five hundred of the vanquished were slain. But their camp, their guns, their bag gage, innumerable wagons, innumerable cat tle, remained in the power of the conquerors With the loss of twenty-two soldiers killed, and fifty wounded, Clive had scattered an army of nearly sixty thousand men, and subdued an empire larger and more populous than Great Britain. Nor was the rest of Surajah Dowlah more Meer Jaffier had given no assistance to the peaceful. His mind, at once weak and stormy, English during the action. But, as soon as he was distracted by wild and horrible apprehen- saw that the fate of the day was decided, he sions. Appalled by the greatness and near-drew off his division of the army, and when ness of the crisis, distrusting his captains, the battle was over, sent his congratulations to dreading every one who approached him, his ally. The next day he repaired to the Engdreading to be left alone, he sate gloomily in lish quarters, not a little uneasy as to the rehis tent, haunted, a Greek poet would have ception which awaited him there. He gave said, by the furies of those who had cursed him evident signs of alarm when a guard was with their last breath in the Black Hole. drawn out to receive him with the honours due to his rank. But his apprehensions were speedily removed. Clive came forward to meet him, embraced him, saluted him as Nabob of the three great provinces of Bengal, Bahar, and Orissa, listened graciously to his apologies, and advised him to march without delay to Moorshedabad. The day broke the day which was to decide the fate of India. At sunrise, the army of the Nabob, pouring through many openings from the camp, began to move towards the grove where the English lay. Forty thousand infantry, armed with firelocks, pikes, swords, bows and arrows, covered the plain. They were accompanied by fifty pieces of ordnance Surajah Dowlah had fled from the field of of the largest size, each tugged by a long team battle with all the speed with which a fleet of white oxen, and each pushed on from be- camel could carry him, and arrived at Moorhind by an elephant. Some smaller guns, un- shedabad in a little more than twenty-four der the direction of a few French auxiliaries, hours. There he called his councillors round were perhaps more formidable. The cavalry him. The wisest advised him to put himself were fifteen thousand, drawn, not from the ef- into the hands of the English, from whom he feminate population of Bengal, but from the had nothing worse to fear than deposition and bolder race which inhabits the northern pro- confinement. But he attributed this suggestion vinces; and the practised eye of Clive could to treachery. Others urged him to try the perceive that both the men and the horses were chance of war again. He approved the admore powerful than those of the Carnatic. The vice, and issued orders accordingly. But he force which he had to oppose to this great multi-wanted spirit to adhere even during one day to tude consisted of only three thousand men. a manly resolution. He learned that Meer But of these nearly a thousand were English, Jaffier had arrived; and his terrors became inand all were led by English officers, and supportable. Disguised in a mean dress, with trained in the English discipline. Conspicu- a casket of jewels in his hand, he let himself ous in the ranks of the little army were the down at night from a window of his palace, men of the Thirty-Ninth Regiment, which and, accompanied by only two attendants, emstill bears on its colours, amidst many honour- barked on the river for Patna. able additions won under Wellington in Spain and Gascony, the name of Plassey, and the proud motto, Primus in Indis. In a few days Clive arrived at Moorshedabad, escorted by two hundred English soldiers and three hundred sepoys. For his residence he The battle commenced with a cannonade, in had been assigned a palace, which was surwhich the artillery of the Nabob did scarcely rounded by a garden so spacious, that ali the any execution, while the few field pieces of the troops who accompanied him could conveEnglish produced great effect. Severa! of the niently encamp within it. The ceremony of the most distinguished officers in Surajah Dowlah's installation of Meer Jaffier was instantly perservice fell. Disorder began to spread through formed. Clive led the new Nabob to the sea! his ranks. His own terror increased every of honour, placed him on it, presented to him, moment. One of the conspirators urged on after the immemorial fashion of the East, an him the expediency of retreating. The insidi- offering of gold, and then, turning to the naous advice, agreeing as it did with what his tives who filled the hall, congratulated them on own terrors suggested, was readily received. the good fortune which had freed them from a He ordered the army to fall back, and this or- tyrant. He was compelled on this occasion to der decided his fate. Clive snatched the mo- use the services of an interpreter; for it is re ment, and ordered his troops to advance. The markable that, long as he resided in India, inticonfused and dispirited multitude gave way mately acquainted as he was with the Indian before the onset of disciplined valour. No politics and the Indian character, and adored mob attacked by regular soldiers was ever more as he was by his Indian soldiery, he never completely routed. The little band of French-learned to express himself with facility in any VOL. III-42 232 Indian language; and is said to have been sometimes under the necessity of employing the smattering of Portuguese which he had acquired, when a lad, in Brazil. ness. still fewer objections, and that for this reason, that the life of societies is longer than the life of individuals. It is possible to mention men who have owed great worldly prosperity to The new sovereign was now called upon to breaches of private faith. But we doubt whe fulfil the engagements into which he had entered ther it be possible to mention a state which has with his allies. A conference was held at the on the whole been a gainer by a breach of pubhouse of Jugget Seit, the great banker, for the lic faith. The entire history of British India purpose of making the necessary arrange- is an illustration of this great truth, that it is ments. Omichund came thither, fully believ- not prudent to oppose perfidy perfidy-that ing himself to stand high in the favour of the most efficient weapon with which men can Clive, who, with dissimulation surpassing encounter falsehood is truth. During a long even the dissimulation of Bengal, had up to course of years, the English rulers of India, that day treated him with undiminished kind- surrounded by allies and enemies whom no The white treaty was produced and engagements could bind, have generally acted read. Clive then turned to Mr. Scrafton, one with sincerity and uprightness; and the event of the servants of the Company, and said in has proved that sincerity and uprightness are English, "It is now time to undeceive Omi- wisdom. English valour and English intellichund." "Omichund," said Mr. Scrafton in gence have done less to extend and to preserve Hindostanee," the red treaty is a take-in. You our Oriental empire than English veracity. are to have nothing." Omichund fell back in- All that we could have gained by imitating the sensible into the arms of his attendants. He doublings, the evasions, the fictions, the perrevived; but his mind was irreparably ruined. juries which have been employed against us, Clive, who, though unscrupulous in his deal- is as nothing, when compared with what we ings with Indian politicians, was not inhuman, have gained by being the one power in India seems to have been touched. He saw Omi- on whose word reliance can be placed. No chund a few days later, spoke to him kindly, oath which superstition can devise, no hostage advised him to make a pilgrimage to one of the however precious, inspires a hundredth part great temples of India, in the hope that change of the confidence which is produced by the of scene might restore his health, and was "yea, yea," and "nay, nay," of a British envoy. even disposed, notwithstanding all that had No fastness, however strong by art or nature, passed, again to employ his talents in the pub- gives to its inmates a security like that enlic service. But from the moment of that sud-joyed by the chief who, passing through the den shock, the unhappy man sank gradually territories of powerful and deadly enemies, is into idiocy. He who had formerly been dis- armed with the British guarantee. The mighttinguished by the strength of his understand-iest princes of the East can scarcely, by the ing, and the simplicity of his habits, now squandered the remains of his fortune on childish trinkets, and loved to exhibit himself dressed in rich garments, and hung with precious stones. In this abject state he languished a few months, and then died. We should not think it necessary to offer any remarks for the purpose of directing the judgment of our readers with respect to this transaction, had not Sir John Malcolm undertaken to defend it in all its parts. He regrets, indeed, that it was necessary to employ means so liable to abuse as forgery; but he will not admit that any blame attaches to those who Ideceived the deceiver. He thinks that the English were not bound to keep faith with one who kept no faith with them; and that, if they had fulfilled their engagen ents with the wily Bengalee, so signal an example of successful treason would have produced a crowd of imitators. Now, we will not discuss this point on any rigid principles of morality. Indeed, it is quite unnecessary to do so; for, looking at the question as a question of expediency in the lowest sense of the word, and using no arguments but such as Machiavelli might have employed in his conference with Borgia, we are convinced that Clive was altogether in the wrong, and that he committed, not merely a crime, but a blunder. That honesty is the best policy, is a maxim which we firmly believe to be generally correct, even with respect to the temporal interest of individuals; but with respect to societies, the rule is subject to offer of enormous usury, draw forth any portion of the wealth which is concealed under the hearths of their subjects. The British government offers little more than four per cent., and avarice hastens to bring forth tens of mil lions of rupees from its most secret repositories. A hostile monarch may promise mountains of gold to our sepoys, on condition that they will desert the standard of the Company. The Company promises only a moderate pension after a long service. But every sepoy knows that the promise of the Company will be kept; he knows that if he lives a hundred years his rice and salt are as secure as the salary of the Governor-General; and he knows that there is not another state in India which would not, in spite of the most solemn vows, leave him to die of hunger in a ditch as soon as he had ceased to be useful. The greatest advantage which a government can possess, is to be the one trustworthy government in the midst of governments which nobody can trust. This advantage we enjoy in Asia. Had we acted during the last two generations on the principles which Sir John Malcolm appears to have considered as sound-had we, as often as we had to deal with people like Omichund, retaliated by lying and forging, and breaking faith, after their fashion-it is our firm belief that no courage or capacity could have upheld our empire Sir John Malcom admits that Clive's breach of faith could be justified only by the strongest necessity. As we think that breach of faith not only unnecessary, but most inexpedient, we need hardly say that we condemn it most severely. Omichund was not the only victim of the revolution. Surajah Dowlah was taken a few days after his flight, and was brought before Meer Jafier. There he flung himself on the ground in convulsions of fear, and with tears and loud cries implored the mercy which he had never shown. Meer Jaffier hesitated; but his son Meeran, a youth of seventeen, who in feebleness of brain and savageness of nature greatly resembled the wretched captive, was implacable. Surajah Dowlah was led into a secret chamber, to which in a short time the ministers of death were sent. In this act the English bore no part; and Meer Jaffier underderstood so much of their feelings, that he thought it necessary to apologize to them for having avenged them on their most malignant enemy. The shower of wealth now fell copiously on the Company and its servants. A sum of eight hundred thousand pounds sterling, in coined silver, was sent down the river from Moorshedabad to Fort William. The fleet which conveyed this treasure consisted of more than a hundred boats, and performed its triumphal voyage with flags flying and music playing. Calcutta, which but a few months ago had been so desolate, was now more prosperous than ever. Trade revived; and the signs of affluence appeared in every English house. As to Clive, there was no limit to his acquisitions but his own moderation. The treasury of Bengal was thrown open to him. There were piled up, after the usage of Indian princes, immense masses of coin, among which might not seldom be detected the florins and byzants with which, before any European ship had turned the Cape of Good Hope, the Venetians purchased the stuffs and spices of the East. Clive walked between heaps of gold and silver, crowned with rubies and diamonds, and was at liberty to help himself. He accepted between two and three hundred thousand pounds. The pecuniary transactions between Meer Jaffer and Clive were sixteen years later condemned by the public voice and severely criticised in Parliament. They are vehemently defended by Sir John Malcolm. The accusers of the victorious general represented his gains as the wages of corruption, or as plunder extorted at the point of the sword from a helpless ally. The biographer, on the other hand, considers these great acquisitions as free gifts, honourable alike to the donor and the receiver, and compares them to the rewards bestowed by foreign powers on Marlborough, on Nelson, and on Wellington. It had always, he says, been customary in the East to give and receive presents; and there was, as yet, no act of Parliament positively prohibiting English functionaries in India from profiting by this Asiatic usage. This reasoning, we own, does not quite satisfy us. We fully acquit Clive of selling the interest of his employers or his country; but we cannot acquit him of having done what, if not in itself evil, was yet of evil example. Nothing is more clear than that a general ought to be the servant of his own government, and of no other. It follows, that whatever rewards he receives for his services ought to be given either by his own government, or with the full knowledge and approbation of his own government. This rule ought to be strictly maintained even with respect to the merest bauble-with respect to a cross, a medal, or a yard of coloured riband. But how can any government be well served, if those who command its forces are at liberty, without its permission, without its privity, to accept princely fortunes from its allies? It is idle to say that there was then no act of Parliament prohibiting the practice of taking presents from Asiatic sovereigns. It is not on the act which was passed at a later period for the purpose of preventing any such taking of presents, but on grounds which were valid before that act was passed-on grounds of common law and common sense-that we arraign the conduct of Clive. There is no act that we know of, prohibiting the Secretary of State for Foreign Af fairs being in the pay of continental powers. But it is not the less true that a secretary who should receive a secret pension from France, would grossly violate his duty, and would deserve severe punishment. Sir John Malcolm compares the conduct of Clive with that of the Duke of Wellington. Suppose and we beg pardon for putting such a supposition even for the sake of argument-that the Duke of Wellington had, after the campaign of 1815, and while he commanded the army of occupation in France, privately accepted two hundred thousand pounds from Louis the Eighteenth as a mark of gratitude for the great services which his grace had rendered to the house of Bourbon-what would be thought of such a transaction? Yet the statute-book no more forbids the taking of presents in Europe now, than it forbade the taking of presents in Asia then. At the same time it must be admitted, that in Clive's case there were many extenuating circumstances. He considered himself as the general, not of the crown, but of the Company. The Company had, by implication at least, authorized its agents to enrich themselves by means of the liberality of the native princes, and by other means still more objectionable. It was hardly to be expected that the servant should entertain stricter notions of his duty than were entertained by his masters. Though Clive did not distinctly acquaint his employers with what had taken place, and request their sanction, he did not, on the other hand, by stu died concealment, show that he was conscious of having done wrong. On the contrary, he avowed with the greatest openness that the Nabob's bounty had raised him to affluence. Lastly, though we think that he ought not in such a way to have taken any thing, we must admit that he deserves praise for having taken so little. He accepted twenty lacs of rupees. It would have cost him only a word to make the twenty forty. It was a very easy exercise of virtue to declaim in England against Clive's rapacity; but not one in a hundred of his accusers would have shown so much self-com mand in the treasury of Moorshedabad Meer Jaffier could be upheld on the throne only by the hand which had placed him on it. He was not, indeed, a mere boy; nor had he been so unfortunate as to be born in the purple. He was not therefore quite so imbecile or quite as depraved as his predecessor had been. But he had none of the talent or virtues which his post required; and his son and heir, Meeran, was another Surajah Dowlah. The recent revolution had unsettled the minds of men. Many chiefs were in open insurrection against the new Nabob. The viceroy of the rich and powerful province of Oude, who, like other viceroys of the Mogul, was now in truth an independent sovereign, menaced Bengal with invasion. Nothing but the talents and authority of Clive could support the tottering government. While things were in this state a ship arrived with despatches, which had been written at the India-House before the news of the battle of Plassey had reached London. The Directors had determined to place the English settlements in Bengal under a government constituted in the most cumbrous and absurd manner; and, to make the matter worse, no place in the arrangement was assigned to Clive. The persons who were selected to form this new government, greatly to their honour, took on themselves the responsibility of disobeying these preposterous orders, and invited Clive to exercise the supreme authority. He consented; and it soon appeared that the servants of the Company had only anticipated the wish of their employers. The Directors, on receiving news of Clive's brilliant success, instantly appointed him governor of their possessions in Bengal, with the highest marks of | gratitude and esteem. His power was now boundless, and far surpassed even that which Dupleix had attained in the south of India. Meer Jaffer regarded him with slavish awe. On one occasion, the Nabob spoke with severity to a native chief of high rank, whose followers had been engaged in a brawl with some of the Company's sepoys. "Are you yet to learn," he said, "who that Colonel Clive is, and in what station God has placed him?" The chief, who, as a famous jester and an old friend of Meer Jaffier, could venture to take liberties, answered, "I affront the Colonel-I, who never get up in the morning without making three low bows to his jackass!" This was hardly an exaggeration. Europeans and natives were alike at Clive's feet. The English regarded him as the only man who could force Meer Jaffer to keep his engagements with them. Meer Jaffier regarded him as the only man who could protect the new dynasty against turbulent subjects and encroaching neighbours. It is but justice to say that Clive used his power ably and vigorously for the advantage of his country. He sent forth an expedition against the tract lying to the north of the Carnatic. In this tract the French still had the ascendency; and it was important to dislodge them. The conduct of the enterprise was intrusted to an officer of the name of Forde, who was then little known, but in whom the keen eye of the governor had detected military talents of a high order. The success of the expedition was rapid and splendid. While a considerable part of the army of Bengal was thus engaged at a distance, a new and formidable danger menaced the western frontier. The Great Mogul was a prisoner at Delhi, in the hands of a subject. His eldest son, named Shah Alum, destined to be the sport, during many years, of adverse fortune, and to be a tool in the hands, first of the Mahrattas, and then of the English, had fled from the palace of his father. His birth was still revered in India. Some powerful princes, the Nabob of Oude in particular, were inclined to favour him. He found it easy to draw to his standard great numbers of the military adventurers with whom every part of the country swarmed. An army of forty thousand men, of various races and religions, Mahrattas, Rohillas, Jauts, and Afghans, was speedily assembled round him; and he formed the design of overthrowing the upstart whom the English had elevated to a throne, and of establishing his own authority throughout Bengal, Orissa, and Bahar. Jaffier's terror was extreme; and the only expedient which occurred to him was to purchase, by the payment of a large sum of money, an accommodation with Shah Alum. This expedient had been repeatedly employed by those who, before him, had ruled the rich and unwarlike provinces near the mouth of the Ganges. But Clive treated the suggestion with a scorn worthy of his strong sense and dauntless courage. "If you do this," he wrote, "you will have the Nabob of Oude, the Mahrattas, and many more, come from all parts of the confines of your country, who will bully you out of money till you have none left in your treasury. I beg your excellency will rely on the fidelity of the English, and of those troops which are attached to you." He wrote in a similar strain to the Governor of Patna, a brave native soldier, whom he highly esteemed. "Come to no terms; defend your city to the last. Rest assured that the English are stanch and firm friends, and that they never desert a cause in which they have once taken a part." He kept his word. Shah Alum had invested Patna, and was on the point of proceeding to storm, when he learned that the Colonel was advancing, by forced marches. The whole army which was approaching consisted of only four hundred and fifty Europeans and two thousand five hundred sepoys. But Clive and his Englishmen were now objects of dread over all the East. As soon as his advanced guard appeared, the besiegers fed before him. A few French adventurers who were about the person of the prince, advised him to try the chance of battle; but in vain. In a few days this great army, which had been regarded with so much uneasiness by the court of Moorshedabad, melted away before the mere terror of the British name. The conqueror returned in triumph to Fort William. The joy of Meer Jaffier was as unbounded as his fears had been, and led him to bestow on his preserver a princely token of gratitude. The quit-rent which the East India Company was bound to pay to the Nabob for the extensive lands held by them to the south of Calcutta, amounted to near thirty thousand |