E-text prepared by Ron Swanson

RULERS OF INDIA

EDITED BY
SIR WILLIAM WILSON HUNTER, K.C.S.I., C.I.E.
M.A. (OXFORD): LL.D. (CAMBRIDGE)

LORD CLIVE

London
HENRY FROWDE
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE
AMEN CORNER, E.C.

New York
MACMILLAN & CO., 66 FIFTH AVENUE

Click [here] for a map of 19th century British India.

RULERS OF INDIA

LORD CLIVE

BY COLONEL G. B. MALLESON, C.S.I.

OXFORD

AT THE CLARENDON PRESS: 1893

Oxford
PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
BY HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

PREFACE

The following list represents the works of the last century which I have consulted to write this Life of Lord Clive:

Orme's History of Indostan (original edition); The Siyaru-l Muta-akherin of Ghulám Husain Khán (Review of Modern Times), translated copy; Cambridge's War in India (containing the Journal of Stringer Lawrence); The Memoir of Dupleix (in French); Grose's Voyage to the East Indies; Ive's Voyage and Historical Narrative; Transactions in India from the commencement of the French War in 1756 (published in 1786); Caraccioli's Life of Lord Clive; Vansittart's Narrative of the Transactions in Bengal; Ironside's Narrative of the Military Transactions in Bengal in 1760-1; Verelst's English Government in Bengal; some numbers of the Asiatic Annual Register; Kindersley's Letters; and Scrafton's Letters; and, for the earlier period—that displaying the period immediately preceding and following the dawn of genius—the recently written extracts from the Madras records by Mr. G. W. Forrest.

Of works of scarcely less value published during the present century, I have consulted the admirable volumes by Colonel Mark Wilks, which bring the History of Southern India down to the storming of Seringapatam in 1799; The Journal of Captain Dalton, one of the heroes of Trichinopoli, written at the period of Clive's early victories, but only given to the world, with a memoir of his career, in 1886; Lord Stanhope's History of England; Malcolm's Life of Clive; and above all, that mine of wealth to a searcher into the details of Clive's services in Bengal, Colonel Broome's History of the Bengal Army. Colonel Broome was my intimate and valued friend. He knew more about the history of the rise of the English in India than any man I ever met. He had made the subject a life-study. He had read every tract, however old, every letter, however difficult to decipher, every record of the period up to and beyond the time of Job Charnock, and he was a past-master of his subject. He had collected an enormous mass of materials, the more bulky of which were dispersed at his untimely death. But I have seen and handled them, and I can state most positively, from my own knowledge, that every item of importance culled from them is contained in the admirable volume to which I have referred, and which was published in 1850. There is, alas, only that volume. Colonel Broome had set apart a vast mass of materials for his second, and had resolved to complete the work at Simla, to which place he was proceeding for the summer of, I think, 1870. But, in the course of transit, the box containing the materials was mysteriously spirited away, and I have not heard that it was ever found. From the nature of the documents collected I cannot but regard the loss as irreparable.

G. B. MALLESON.

CONTENTS

NOTE

The orthography of proper names follows the system adopted by the Indian Government for the Imperial Gazetteer of India. That system, while adhering to the popular spelling of very well-known places, such as Punjab, Poona, Deccan, &c., employs in all other cases the vowels with the following uniform sounds:—

a, as in woman: á, as in father: i, as in kin: í, as in intrigue: o, as in cold: u, as in bull: ú, as in rural.

LORD CLIVE

CHAPTER I

EARLY YEARS

Towards the close of the year 1744 there landed at Madras, as writer in the service of the East India Company, a young Englishman just entering the twentieth year of his existence, named Robert Clive.

The earlier years of the life of this young man had not been promising. Born at Styche, near Market Drayton, in Shropshire, he had been sent, when three years old, to be cared for and educated at Manchester, by a gentleman who had married his mother's sister, Mr. Bayley of Hope Hall. The reason for this arrangement, at an age so tender, is not known. One seeks for it in vain in the conduct and character of his parents; for although his father is described as irascible and violent, his mother was remarkable for her good sense and sweet temper. To her, Clive was wont to say, he owed more than to all his schools. But he could have seen but little of her in those early days, for his home was always with the Bayleys, even after the death of Mr. Bayley, and he was ever treated there with kindness and consideration. After one or two severe illnesses, which, it is said, affected his constitution in after life, the young Robert, still of tender years, was sent to Dr. Eaton's private school at Lostocke in Cheshire: thence, at eleven, he was removed to Mr. Burslem's at Market Drayton. With this gentleman he remained a few years, and was then sent to have a brief experience of a public school at Merchant Taylors'. Finally, he went to study at a private school kept by Mr. Sterling in Hertfordshire. There he remained until, in 1743, he was nominated to be a writer in the service of the East India Company.

The chief characteristics of Robert Clive at his several schools had been boldness and insubordination. He would not learn; he belonged to a 'fighting caste'; he was the leader in all the broils and escapades of schoolboy life; the terror of the masters; the spoiled darling of his schoolmates. He learned, at all events, how to lead: for he was daring even to recklessness; never lost his head; was calmest when the danger was greatest; and displayed in a hundred ways his predilection for a career of action.

It is not surprising, then, that he showed the strongest aversion to devote himself to the study which would have qualified him to follow his father's profession. A seat at an attorney's desk, and the drudgery of an attorney's life, were to him as distasteful as they proved to be, at a later period, to the eldest son of Isaac Disraeli. He would have a career which promised action. If such were not open to him in his native land, he would seek for it in other parts of the world. When, then, his father, who had some interest, and who had but small belief in his eldest son, procured for him the appointment of writer in the service of the East India Company, Robert Clive accepted it with avidity.

Probably if he had had the smallest idea of the nature of the duties which were associated with that office, he would have refused it with scorn. He panted, I have said, for a life of action: he accepted a career which was drudgery under a tropical sun, in its most uninteresting form. The Company in whose service he entered was simply a trading corporation. Its territory in India consisted of but a few square miles round the factories its agents had established, and for which they paid an annual rental to the native governments. They had but a small force, composed principally of the children of the soil, insufficiently armed, whose chief duties were escort duties and the manning of the ill-constructed forts which protected the Company's warehouses. The idea of aggressive warfare had never entered the heads even of the boldest of the English agents. They recognized the native ruler of the province in which lay their factories as their overlord, and they were content to hold their lands from him on the condition of protection on his part, and of good behaviour and punctual payment of rent on their own. For the combative energies of a young man such as Robert Clive there was absolutely no field on Indian soil. The duties devolving on a writer were the duties of a clerk; to keep accounts; to take stock; to make advances; to ship cargoes; to see that no infringement of the Company's monopoly should occur. He was poorly paid; his life was a life of dull routine; and, although after many years of toil the senior clerks were sometimes permitted to trade on their own account and thus to make large fortunes, the opportunity rarely came until after many years of continuous suffering, and then generally when the climate had exhausted the man's energies.

To a young man of the nature of Robert Clive such a life could not be congenial. And, in fact, he hated it from the outset. He had left England early in 1743; his voyage had been long and tiring: the ship on which he sailed had put in at Rio, and was detained there nine months; it remained anchored for a shorter period in St. Simon's Bay; and finally reached Madras only at the close of 1744. The delays thus occurring completely exhausted the funds of the young writer: he was forced to borrow at heavy interest from the captain: the friend at Madras, to whom he had letters of introduction, had quitted that place. The solitary compensating advantage was this, that his stay at Rio had enabled him to pick up a smattering of Portuguese.

We see him, at length arrived, entering upon those hard and uninteresting duties to undertake which he had refused a life of far less drudgery in England in a congenial climate and under a sun more to be desired than dreaded. Cast loose in the profession he had selected, separated from relatives and friends, he had no choice but to enter upon the work allotted to him. This he did sullenly and with no enthusiasm. How painful was even this perfunctory performance; how keenly he felt the degradation—for such he deemed it—may be judged from the fact recorded by his contemporaries and accepted by the world, that for a long time he held aloof from his companions and his superiors. These in their turn ceased after a time to notice a young man so resolute to shun them. And although with time came an approach to intercourse, there never was cordiality. It is doubtful, however, whether in this description there has not mingled more than a grain of exaggeration. We have been told of his wayward nature: we have read how he insulted a superior functionary, and when ordered by the Governor to apologize, complied with the worst possible grace: how, when the pacified superior, wishing to heal the breach, asked him to dinner, he refused with the words that although the Governor had ordered him to apologize, he did not command him to dine with him: how, one day, weary of his monotonous existence, and suffering from impecuniosity, he twice snapped a loaded pistol at his head; how, on both occasions, there was a misfire; how, shortly afterwards, a companion, entering the room, at Clive's request pointed the pistol outside the window and pulled the trigger; how the powder ignited, and how then Clive, jumping to his feet, exclaimed, 'I feel I am reserved for better things.'

These stories have been told with an iteration which would seem to stamp them as beyond contradiction. But the publication of Mr. Forrest's records of the Madras Presidency (1890) presents a view altogether different. The reader must understand that the Board at Fort St. David—at that time the ruling Board in the Madras Presidency—is reporting, for transmission to Europe, an account of a complaint of assault made by the Rev. Mr. Fordyce against Clive.

It would appear from this that Mr. Fordyce was a coward and a bully, besides being in many other respects an utterly unfit member of society. It had come to Clive's ears that this man had said of him, in the presence of others, that he, Clive, was a coward and a scoundrel; that the reverend gentleman had shaken his cane over him in the presence of Mr. Levy Moses; and had told Captain Cope that he would break every bone in his (Clive's) skin. In his deposition Clive stated that these repeated abuses so irritated him, 'that he could not forbear, on meeting Mr. Fordyce at Cuddalore, to reproach him with his behaviour, which, he told him, was so injurious he could bear it no longer, and thereupon struck him two or three times with his cane, which, at last Mr. Fordyce returned and then closed in with him, but that they were presently parted by Captain Lucas.'

The Board, in giving its judgement on the case, recapitulated the many offences committed by Mr. Fordyce, the great provocation he had given to Clive, and suspended him. With regard to Clive they recorded: 'lest the same,' the attack on Fordyce, 'should be to Mr. Clive's prejudice, we think it not improper to assure you that he is generally esteemed a very quiet person and no ways guilty of disturbances.' It is to be inferred from this account that, far from deserving the character popularly assigned to him, Clive, in the third year of his residence in India, was regarded by his superiors as a very quiet member of society.

Still, neither the climate nor the profession suited him. 'I have not enjoyed,' he wrote to one of his cousins, 'a happy day since I left my native country.' In other letters he showed how he repented bitterly of having chosen a career so uncongenial. Gradually, however, he realized the folly of kicking against the pricks. He associated more freely with his colleagues, and when the Governor, Mr. Morse, sympathizing with the young man eating out his heart from ennui, opened to him the door of his considerable library, he found some relief to his sufferings. These, at last, had reached their term. Before Clive had exhausted all the books thus placed at his disposal, events occurred which speedily opened to him the career for which he had panted.

CHAPTER II

SOUTHERN INDIA IN 1744

It will contribute to the better understanding of the narrative of the events which plunged the English into war in 1745, if we take a bird's-eye view of the peninsula generally, particularly of the southern portion, as it appeared in the year preceding.

Of India generally it is sufficient to say that from the year 1707, when the Emperor Aurangzeb died, authority had been relaxing to an extent which was rapidly bringing about the disruption of the bonds that held society together. The invasion of Nadír Sháh followed by the sack of Delhi in 1739 had given the Mughal dynasty a blow from which it never rallied. Thenceforward until 1761, when the third battle of Pánípat completed the catastrophe, the anarchy was almost universal. Authority was to the strongest. The Sallustian motto, 'Alieni appetens sui profusus,' was the rule of almost every noble; the agriculturists had everywhere abundant reason to realize 'that the buffalo was to the man who held the bludgeon.'¹

¹ The late Lord Lawrence used to tell me that when he was Acting Magistrate and Collector of Pánípat in 1836, the natives were in the habit of describing the lawlessness of the period which ceased in 1818 by using the expressive phrase I have quoted.

The disorder had extended to the part of India south of the Vindhyan range which was then known under the comprehensive term of the Deccan. When Aurangzeb had conquered many Súbahs, or provinces, of Southern India, he had placed them under one officer, to be nominated by the Court of Delhi, and to be called Súbahdár, or chief of the province. As disorder spread after his death the Súbahdárs and inferior chiefs generally began to secure themselves in the provinces they administered. The invasion of Nadír Sháh made the task generally easy. In the Deccan especially, Chin Kílich Khán, the chief of a family which had served with consideration under Akbar and his successors, whose father had been a favourite of Aurangzeb, who had himself served under that sovereign, and who had obtained from the successors of Aurangzeb the titles of Nizám-ul-Múlk and Asaf Jáh, took steps to make the Súbahdárship of Southern India hereditary in his family. The territories comprehended under the term 'Deccan' did not, it must be understood, include the whole of Southern India. Mysore, Travancore, Cochin were independent. But they comprehended the whole of the territories known now as appertaining to the Nizám, with some additions; the country known as the 'Northern Circárs'; and the Karnátik.

But the Karnátik was not immediately under the government of the Súbahdár. It was a subordinate territory, entrusted to a Nawáb, bounded to the north by the river Gundlakamma; on the west by the chain of mountains which separate it from Mysore; to the south by the possessions of the same kingdom (as it then was) and by Tanjore; to the east by the sea. I have not mentioned the kingdom of Trichinopoli to the south, for the Nawábs of the Karnátik claimed that as their own, and, as we shall see, had occupied the fortress of that name during the period, prior to 1744, of which I am writing.

It will be seen then, that, at this period, whilst the nominal ruler of the Deccan was Chin Kílich Khán, better known as Nizám-ul-Múlk, as I shall hereafter style him, the Nawáb of the Karnátik, who ruled the lands bordering on the sea, including the English settlement of Madras and the French settlement of Pondicherry, was a very powerful subordinate. The office he held had likewise come to be regarded as hereditary. And it was through the failure of the hereditary line, that the troubles came, which gave to Robert Clive the opportunity to develop the qualities which lay dormant within him.

Before I proceed to describe those events, it seems advisable to say a few words regarding the two settlements to which I have just referred; of the principles which actuated their chiefs; and of the causes which brought them into collision.

The English had made a first settlement on the Coromandel coast in the year 1625 at a small place, some thirty-six miles to the south of Madras, known now as Armagon. Seven years later they obtained from the Rájá of Bisnagar a small grant of land, called by the natives Chennapatanam from the village contained thereon. They re-named the place Madras, and built there a fort round their storehouses which they named Fort St. George. In 1653 the Company in London raised the agency at Madras to the position and rank of a Presidency. Towards the end of the seventeenth century the establishment there counted a population of 300,000 souls. In 1744 the town consisted of three divisions: that to the south (the White Town) extending about four hundred yards in length from north to south, and about one hundred yards in breadth. There resided the Europeans, mainly English. They had there about fifty houses, two churches, one of them Catholic; likewise the residence of the chief of the factory. All these were within the enclosure called Fort St. George. That somewhat pompous title represented merely a slender wall, defended by four bastions and as many batteries, very slight and defective in their construction, and with no outworks to defend them. This division was generally known as the 'White Town.' To the north of it, and contiguous, was another division, much larger and worse fortified, principally tenanted by Armenian and Indian merchants, called the Black Town. Beyond this, again to the north, was a suburb, where the poorer natives resided. These three divisions formed Madras. There were likewise to the south, about a mile distant from the White Town, two other large villages, inhabited solely by natives; but these were not included within that term. The English at this period did not exceed three hundred in number, and of these two-thirds were soldiers, but few of whom had seen a shot fired.²

² Vide Orme's History of Indostan (Edition 1773), vol. i. p. 65.

The English colony in Madras was a trading colony. Not one of its members, up to this period, had the smallest thought of embroiling their presidency in the disputes which were frequent amongst the native chieftains. They wished to be let alone; to remain at peace; to conciliate friendship and goodwill. They were content to acknowledge the lords of the soil as their masters; to pay for the protection they enjoyed at their hands by a willing obedience; to ward off their anger by apologies and presents.

But there was a French colony also on the same coast, and in that a different policy had begun to prevail. In the year 1672 the King of Bíjapur had sold to some French traders, led by a very remarkable man, Francis Martin, a tract of land on the Coromandel coast, eighty-six miles to the south-south-west of Madras. On this tract, close to the sea, was a little village called by the natives Puducheri. This the French settlers enlarged and beautified, and made their chief place of residence and trade. By degrees the name was corrupted to Pondicherry, a title under which it became famous, and under which it is still known.

So long as M. Martin lived, the policy of the French settlers was similar to that of the English at Madras. Nor did it immediately change when Martin died (December 30, 1706). Up to 1735, when M. Benoit Dumas was appointed Governor-General of the French possessions in India (for they had besides possessions on the Malabar coast and at Chandranagar, on the Húglí, in Bengal) it was in no way departed from. M. Dumas, however, almost immediately after his assumption of office, adopted the policy of allying himself closely with native princes; of taking part in their wars; with the view of reaping therefrom territorial and pecuniary advantage. This policy, of which he was the inventor, was, we shall see, carried to the most extreme length by his successor, M. Dupleix.

It will clear the ground for the reader if we add that the prosperity of the rival settlements was greatly affected by the action of their respective principals in Europe. On this point all the advantages lay with the English. For, whilst the Company of the Indies at Paris, and, it must be added, the French Government likewise, starved their dependency in India, and supplied them with inefficient and often ill-timed assistance, the East India Company, and the Government of the King of England, made a far better provision for the necessities of Madras.

It must, however, in candour be admitted that at the outset the French were better supplied with men and money than the English. Until the importance of the quarrel was recognized in Europe it became then a contest between the natural qualities of the men on the spot—a test of the capabilities of the races they represented.

I turn now, after this brief explanation of the position in Southern India in 1744, to describe the causes which led to the catastrophe which supervened very shortly after the arrival in India of the hero of this history.

CHAPTER III

HOW THE WAR IN THE KARNÁTIK AFFECTED THE FRENCH AND ENGLISH SETTLEMENTS

The trouble came from the Karnátik. The family of the chief who had held the position of Nawáb at the time of the death of Aurangzeb had adopted the new fashion, then becoming universal, of making the post hereditary in his family. Saádat-ullá Khán, the Nawáb in question, had himself been regularly appointed in 1710 by the court of Delhi. After a peaceful rule of twenty-two years he had died (1732) without issue, after having appointed his nephew, Dost Alí, to succeed him as Nawáb, the younger brother of Dost Alí, Bakar Alí, to be governor of the fort and district of Vellore; and Ghulám Husén, the nephew of his favourite wife, better known as Chánda Sáhib, to be Diwán, or prime minister, to his successor.

These dispositions were carried out. But they were by no means pleasing to the Súbahdár of the Deccan, the Nizám-ul-Múlk to whom the reader has been introduced. That eminent nobleman was not content that his subordinates should act as he was prepared to act himself. His sanction had not been obtained to the transaction. He used then his influence at Delhi to prevent the confirmation which, even in those disturbed times, every chieftain sought to obtain for every act of spoliation. For the moment he proceeded no further. He was content to leave Dost Alí in the position of a nobleman ruling without the authority of his liege lord, himself, or of the master of both, the court of Delhi.

Nizám-ul-Múlk had justly thought that time would avenge him. Four years after his accession, the death of the ruler of Trichinopoli induced Dost Alí to send an army under his son Safdar Alí and his Diwán Chánda Sáhib, to capture that fortress. Under the pretence of collecting revenue these two princes visited Madras and Pondicherry in their progress southwards, and at the latter place Chánda Sáhib entered into those intimate relations with the French which were to influence greatly the events which were to follow. They proceeded thence to Trichinopoli and took possession of the fortress, the widowed queen having, it is said, fallen in love with Chánda Sáhib. The latter remained there as governor, whilst Safdar Alí returned to his father at Arcot.

The new Diwán appointed in the place of Chánda Sáhib, Mír Ásad, began at once to insinuate charges of ambition against his predecessor, and expressed his opinion that Chánda Sáhib, once ruler of Trichinopoli, would not easily let go his hold. In this opinion he was supported by the Nawáb's eldest son, Safdar Jang. Doubtless they were right, but their utterances, freely expressed, served only to put Chánda Sáhib on his guard; and he commenced to store the fortress with provisions.

The acquisition of Trichinopoli by the Nawáb of the Karnátik had served only to inflame the mind of his liege lord, Nizám-ul-Múlk, against him. For a time, however, the disorders in Northern India, the threatened invasion of Nadír Sháh, and, finally, that invasion, held his hand. At last, however, his wrath over-mastered his judgement, and, in 1739, at the very time when the invasion of Nadír Sháh was in full swing, he gave permission to the Maráthás to attack Trichinopoli. In May of the following year, 1740, consequently, a Maráthá army of 10,000 men, led by Raghují Bhonsla, entered the Karnátik, met the hurriedly raised force of Dost Alí at the Damalcherri Pass, defeated it with great slaughter, and took prisoner the Diwán, Mír Ásad. Dost Alí was among the slain. The victors, then, listening to the persuasions of their prisoner, the Diwán, agreed to quit the province on receiving a payment, at stated intervals, of a total sum of ten million of rupees. Safdar Alí was then proclaimed Nawáb at Arcot, and Chánda Sáhib proceeded thither to do him homage.

During the preceding two years the French governor of Pondicherry, M. Dumas, had so strengthened the fortifications of that town, that it had come to be regarded by the natives as impregnable. During the Maráthá invasion, then, Chánda Sáhib had sent thither his family, and his example had been followed by Safdar Alí. After the installation of the latter at Arcot, the two princes proceeded to visit the French governor, who gave them a magnificent reception. On leaving, Safdar Alí took with him his family, whilst Chánda Sáhib, still suspecting danger, directed his own wives to remain at Pondicherry until events should more clearly develop themselves.

He had not to wait long. Safdar Alí, jealous of his prosperity, had induced the Maráthás, never unwilling, to make a fresh incursion into the Karnátik, and to dispose of Chánda Sáhib. In December of the same year then, just four years before Clive landed in India, those warriors entered the province, so deceived Chánda Sáhib as to induce him to sell them the ample stores of grain he had collected, and, as soon as they had received them, laid siege to Trichinopoli. Chánda Sáhib sustained a siege of nearly three months with great resolution, but then, his remaining stores of grain having been exhausted, was forced to surrender (March 26, 1741). The Maráthás, having plundered the town, departed for Sátára, taking with them Chánda Sáhib in close custody, and leaving one of their most famous leaders, of whom we shall hear further, Morári Ráo, with 14,000 of their best troops, to guard the place, and to act as discretion or greed might suggest.

The events I have recorded had encouraged among the nobles of the province a spirit of disorder in sympathy with the times. No man felt quite safe. Safdar Alí himself, but half reassured, sent for safety his family to the custody of the English at Madras, whilst, quitting the comparatively defenceless Arcot, he took up his abode in the strong fortress of Vellore. There his treasures had been stored, and there Murtizá Alí, who had married his sister, was governor. This man was treacherous, cowardly, and very ambitious. No sooner had he understood that his relationship by marriage did not shield him from the payment of money due to the Nawáb, than he proceeded to debauch the army, and to enlist on his side the neighbouring nobles. He then poisoned his brother-in-law. The poison not taking immediate effect, he persuaded a Patán to stab the Nawáb to the heart. He then declared himself Nawáb.

He was proclaimed alike at Vellore and Arcot. But his usurpation did not last long. Even in those days there was a public conscience, and the murder he had committed had been too brutal not to arouse indignation. The army rose against him. Fearing for his life, he disguised himself in woman's clothes, and escaped to Vellore.

On the flight of Murtizá Alí becoming known the army proclaimed Saiyud Muhammad Khán, the son of Safdar Alí, then residing at Madras under the protection of the English, to be Nawáb. The young prince and his mother were at once removed to the fort of Wandiwash, the ruler of which had married his father's sister.

It was this moment that Nizám-ul-Múlk chose as the time to intervene. Entering Arcot at the head of a large army (March, 1743) he completely pacified the province; then, marching on Trichinopoli, compelled the Maráthás to yield it and to evacuate the Karnátik. Possessing himself of the person of the newly proclaimed Nawáb, whom he declined to recognize, he proclaimed his own commander-in-chief, Khojá Abdullah, to be Nawáb of the Karnátik, and then returned to Golconda.

Unfortunately for the peace of the province Khojá Abdullah, a strong man, never took up the government of the Karnátik. He had returned with his master to Golconda, and had made there his preparations to set out. On the very morning which he had chosen for that purpose he was found dead in his bed. It was clear that he had been poisoned. Suspicion fell at once upon the nobleman who had originally been an urgent candidate for the office, and who now obtained it. He was an experienced soldier of good family, whose name was Anwar-ud-dín.

Nizám-ul-Múlk knew that the appointment would not be popular in the province so long as there should remain alive any member of the family of Saádat-ullá. He had therefore announced that the appointment of Anwar-ud-dín was provisional, and that the young prince, Saiyud Muhammad, already proclaimed Nawáb, should succeed to that post on his arriving at the age of manhood, remaining during the interval under the guardianship of Anwar-ud-dín, to be by him instructed in the art of governing. Anwar-ud-dín promised to carry out the will of his liege lord, and on his arrival in the Karnátik, assigned to the young prince the fort of Arcot, with a sufficient retinue of Patán soldiers. There the boy remained, treated with the deference due to his position.

But he was doomed. A few weeks after his arrival at Arcot it devolved upon him to preside at the wedding of one of his near relations. Amongst those who came to the ceremony was the murderer of his father, Murtizá Alí, laden with presents for the bridegroom. Strange as it may seem, the murderer was courteously received. But shortly after his entrance within the fort an unseemly disturbance was created by the disorderly entrance into the presence of thirteen Patán soldiers, who insolently demanded payment of the arrears they alleged to be due to them. With some difficulty they were forcibly ejected. But in the evening, as Anwar-ud-dín approached, attended by his courtiers and preceded by his guards, these thirteen Patáns managed to mingle with the latter, and one of them, rushing towards the daïs on which was the chair occupied by the young prince, ascended the steps leading to it, and, in a supplicatory attitude, made as though he would throw himself at his feet and demand pardon for the offence of the morning. But instead of this he plunged his dagger, which he had concealed on his person, into the prince's heart. He was almost instantly cut down by the attendants. The confusion was extreme. Suddenly it was discovered that Murtizá Alí had quitted the fort, had mounted his horse, and, accompanied by his armed followers, had galloped towards Vellore. Suspicion naturally fell upon this proved murderer, and the nobles generally endeavoured to exculpate themselves at his expense.

But suspicion fell likewise upon Anwar-ud-dín. Who, so much as he, would benefit by the death of Saiyud Muhammad? He was practically only guardian to the young prince, bound to resign his office as soon as the latter should attain his majority. Nor were these suspicions lessened when it was found that Nizám-ul-Múlk at once transmitted to Anwar-ud-dín a complete commission as Nawáb of Arcot. Vainly did the Nawáb deny all complicity in the bloody deed. Murtizá Alí was silent. 'It was supposed,' wrote Mr. Orme, 'that the only proofs he could have brought against Anwar-ud-dín would at the same time have condemned himself.' And this probably was true.

Such then was the political position in Southern India when Clive landed at Madras in 1744. The titular Emperor of Delhi was Muhammad Sháh, still reeling under the consequences of the invasion of Nadír Sháh and the sack of Delhi but five short years previously. The Súbahdár of the Deccan was still Nizám-ul-Múlk, possessing sufficient influence to have secured the succession in Southern India for his second son, Nasír Jang.¹ The Nawáb of the Karnátik, styled officially, of Arcot, was a stranger to the province, the unpopular and suspected Anwar-ud-dín. His authority there was not very secure. There were many pretenders waiting for the first mishap: amongst them his confederate in the murder of Saiyud Muhammad; Chánda Sáhib, still in confinement at Sátára; and many others. The elements of danger abounded everywhere. There were few petty chiefs who did not dub themselves 'Nawábs,' and aspire to positions higher than those held by them at the moment. The match alone was wanting to produce a general flame.

¹ Elliot's History of India as told by its own Historians, vol. viii. p. 113.

Under ordinary circumstances this state of affairs would not necessarily have affected the European settlers on the coast. But for them, too, the crisis was approaching. In 1740 the death of the Emperor, Charles VI, had thrown the greater part of Europe into a blaze. Three years later England had entered the field as an upholder of the Pragmatic Sanction. The news of this intervention, which necessitated war with France, reached India towards the close of 1744, and immediately affected the relations towards one another of the rival settlements on the Coromandel coast.

CHAPTER IV

HOW THE FORTUNES OF ROBERT CLIVE WERE AFFECTED BY THE HOSTILITIES BETWEEN THE FRENCH AND ENGLISH IN SOUTHERN INDIA

The events narrated in the second and third chapters must be studied by the reader who wishes to understand the India of 1744-65—the India which was to be the field for the exercise of the energies of the hero of this biography. It was an India, he will see, differing in all respects from the India of the present day: an India which may not improperly be termed an Alsatia, in which, as we have seen, murder was rampant, and every man fought for his own hand. What it then was it would be again were the English to leave the people to their own devices.

In the autumn of 1744 the Governor of Pondicherry, M. Dupleix, who had succeeded Dumas in October, 1741, received a despatch from his Directors notifying that a war with England was impending; requiring him to diminish his expenditure; to cease to continue to fortify Pondicherry; and to act with the greatest caution. A little later they wrote to say that war had actually been declared, that they had instructed the Governor of the Isle of France to proceed to the Indian Seas with a squadron he was preparing; and that they required him to second that officer, M. de la Bourdonnais, in his enterprise. Fearing, however, that La Bourdonnais might arrive off the coast only after some mischief had been done, they specially urged Dupleix to endeavour to arrange with the Governor of Madras that the war in Europe should not extend to the two settlements in India.

Similarly, the Governor of Madras, Mr. Morse, had received information and instructions from his masters. They were, however, of a nature differing in some respects from those received by the French authorities. They were to the effect that war had been declared; that he might at any moment expect the arrival of Commodore Barnett with a strong squadron off Madras, and that that squadron would be employed for the annihilation of the French commerce and the destruction of their possessions. It is easy to see, then, that when Morse received from the French Governor a proposal that the two settlements should preserve neutrality, he was compelled to decline it.

Thus threatened, for the reply of Mr. Morse led him to believe that the English would use their advantage to the utmost, Dupleix appealed to the common suzerain of the two settlements, to the Nawáb Anwar-ud-dín. He reminded him of the long-standing friendship between the rulers of the French settlement and his predecessors; how the French, in times of danger and difficulty, had ever extended their hospitality to the Nawábs and their friends; and represented in a striking manner the disadvantage which must accrue to the rulers of the Karnátik if the foreign settlements were to be permitted to wage war upon one another, for the reason that their respective nations had quarrelled in Europe. The mind of the Nawáb was much impressed by this cogent reasoning. He had no idea of the fighting qualities of the settlers. They had up to that time behaved as peaceful traders, deferential to the lords of the soil. He would that they should remain so. He therefore informed Mr. Morse that he would not permit an infraction of the peace between the two nations on the soil of the Karnátik.

For the moment the plague was stayed. Commodore Barnett's squadron arrived, intercepted and captured the French merchantmen, but could not attempt anything against Pondicherry. In April, 1746, Barnett died, and the command devolved upon Commodore Peyton. In June of the same year Peyton heard that some French vessels had been seen off Ceylon. They must be, he thought, the squadron of La Bourdonnais. He proceeded, then, to cruise off Negapatam to intercept it. On July 6, the two squadrons came in contact. They fought that afternoon and the next morning. After an indecisive combat on the 7th, the English commodore, finding that one of his best ships had sprung a leak, sheered off, and made sail for Trincomalee, leaving to the Frenchmen all the honours and advantage of the day. On the evening of the 8th of July the French squadron anchored off Pondicherry.

The result of the conference between the Admiral of the fleet and the Governor of Pondicherry was a resolution that the former should attack Madras, aided by the soldiers supplied by the latter. On the evening of the 12th of September, 1745, the French fleet sailed for Madras, arrived within cannon-shot of the English fort on the 15th at mid-day; La Bourdonnais then landed 1,100 European soldiers, some sipáhís, and a few Africans, and summoned the place to surrender.

Madras was in no position to resist him. The only chance possessed by Mr. Morse of saving the fort had lain in his obtaining from the Nawáb the protection which the latter had afforded to Pondicherry when he himself had threatened that town. He had applied for that protection, but in such a manner as to ensure the rejection of his prayer. He had sent his messenger empty-handed into the presence of Anwar-ud-dín, to demand as a right the protection which that nobleman had granted to Dupleix as a favour. The Nawáb, probably waiting for the presents which, as an Indian prince, he expected from the petitioner, had given no reply when the fleet of La Bourdonnais appeared before Madras on the 15th of September.

On the evening of the 19th the Governor sent a messenger to La Bourdonnais to treat. After much negotiation it was agreed that at noon of the day at which they had arrived, September 21, Fort St. George and the town of Madras should be surrendered to the French; that the English garrison and all the English in the town should become prisoners of war; that the civil functionaries should be set free on their parole that they should not carry arms against France until they should be regularly exchanged. There were other secret conditions, but it is unnecessary to the narrative to refer to these.¹

¹ For a correct account of these see the author's History of the French in India, a new edition of which is about to appear.

The capture of Madras by the French took completely by surprise the Nawáb Anwar-ud-dín. On learning the movements of the French against that place he had despatched a special messenger ordering them to desist. The letter he conveyed reached Dupleix after Madras had been conquered, but whilst it remained still in the hands of La Bourdonnais. For a time he temporized with the Nawáb, whilst he endeavoured to bring La Bourdonnais, with whom he had difficulties as to the disposal of the place, to reason. A terrific storm heralding the north-east monsoon settled the second question by compelling the French admiral to sail for the islands with the remnant of the fleet it had scattered. On the 29th of October, Dupleix was sole director of French interests in India and on the Indian seas. His negotiations with the Nawáb were of a more complicated character. I lay particular stress upon them here because it was his action with reference to that potentate which inverted the position theretofore held between the native of India and the European; which called into the field the brilliant military qualities of Clive; which necessitated the long struggle for predominance in Southern India between France and England.

When day succeeded day and the Nawáb gradually came to the conviction that the audacious ruler of the French settlement had no real intention of transferring to him the conquest La Bourdonnais had made, he resolved to take it by force. He sent, therefore, his eldest son, Ma'afuz Khán, with a force of about 10,000 men, mostly cavalry, to enforce his demand. But, in face of the small French garrison occupying the place, these men soon discovered that they were powerless. When, with a great display of vigour, they had mastered the positions which secured a supply of water to the town, the garrison made a sortie and retook them. That was the first awakening. The second was more startling, more pregnant with consequences. A small force of 230 Europeans and 700 natives, sent by Dupleix under the command of a trusted officer named Paradis to relieve Madras, encountered the entire army of Ma'afuz Khán on the banks of the river Adyar, close to the village of Maliapur, then and to the present day known as St. Thomé,² defeated it with great slaughter, the Frenchmen wading breast-high through the water to attack the soldiers of the Nawáb. This victory, few in numbers as were the victors, must ever be regarded as pre-eminently a decisive battle. It brought into view, silently but surely, the possibility of the conquest of India by one or other of the two European powers on the Coromandel coast.

² From the fact identified by Bishop Heber and Professor H. H. Wilson, that it is the place where the Apostle St. Thomas is said to have been martyred on December 5, A.D. 58.

In a narrower sense it confirmed the possession of Madras to Dupleix. Thenceforth, as far as his eye could see, he had nought to fear in India. On the 9th of November Paradis entered Madras; he made there new provisions for the conquered English, confiscating all the merchandize that had been found within the town by La Bourdonnais. He then ordered all the English who should decline to take an oath of allegiance to the French governor within four days to quit the town; the English officials he permitted to dispose of their property; then to remove to Pondicherry as prisoners on parole. There were some amongst them who, possibly prescient of the future, declined to subscribe to terms which would tie their hands. These escaped to Fort St. David, a small fort purchased by the English in 1691, close to the important town of Gúdalúr, sixteen miles to the south of Pondicherry. Amongst these was the young writer who had had but two years' experience of India, and who was called Robert Clive.

Hardly had that young writer reached Fort St. David than he was called upon to share in its defence. It very soon became evident that the policy of Dupleix was a root-and-branch policy; that he was resolved to expel the English from all their settlements. With respect to Fort St. David, however, he was foiled partly by the stupidity of his generals, partly by the island stubbornness of the defenders. Four times did the French endeavour to take that small fort; four times, owing to circumstances upon which it is not necessary to enter, did they fail. Meanwhile there arrived an English squadron under Admiral Griffin, and later, to reinforce him, a fleet and army under Admiral Boscawen (August 11, 1748). By this arrival the positions of the rivals on the coast became inverted. From being besiegers the French became the besieged. For Boscawen at once laid siege to Pondicherry.

Then began (August 19, 1748) the first siege of Pondicherry by the English troops, assisted to a certain extent by those of the Nawáb. Many gallant deeds were performed on both sides. For a time Paradis was the soul of the defence. When he was killed, which happened whilst making a sortie on the 11th of September, the entire labour of directing the necessary measures fell upon Dupleix. In the attack were many good men and true. Boscawen himself gave an example of daring which was universally followed. Amongst those who were specially remarked was the hero of this book. A contemporary writer, whose journal³ of the siege is before me, remarks regarding that young writer, that he 'served in the trenches on this occasion, and by his gallant conduct gave the first prognostic of that high military spirit, which was the spring of his future actions, and the principal source of the decisive intrepidity and elevation of mind, which were his characteristic endowments.' The efforts of the besiegers shattered, however, before the sturdy defence of the French. On the 17th of October the English were forced to raise the siege, leaving dead from the fire of the enemy or from sickness 1065 men. The English fleet remained for a year off the coast, and then sailed for England: the garrison, formerly the garrison of Madras and of Fort St. David, retired to the latter place, carrying with it Robert Clive, soon to be joined there by one of the most distinguished men whose careers have illustrated the history of the English in India, Major Stringer Lawrence.⁴

³ See Asiatic Annual Register for 1802.

⁴ Major Lawrence had arrived from England on the 13th of January 1747, commissioned to command all the Company's troops in India. From Mr. Forrest's Madras Records we find that his salary as Major was £300 per annum, and 50 pagodas per month for other allowances, besides £70 per annum as third in Council. It was he who had repulsed the fourth attack made by the French on Fort St. David in the spring of that year. In the early days of the siege of Pondicherry he had had the misfortune to be taken prisoner. Released by the conditions of the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, he then resumed command at Fort St. David.

It is probable that, after the raising of the siege of Pondicherry, the French would have resumed their operations against Fort St. David, for, early in 1749, reinforcements in men and money had reached them. But before they could move, information reached them that, on the 7th of October, 1748, peace had been signed between the two nations at Aix-la-Chapelle. By the terms of this treaty the conquests made by the two countries were to be restored. The French, therefore, instead of renewing their attack on Fort St. David, were compelled to restore Madras, its fortifications undermined, and its storehouses empty.⁵ This restoration was the more distasteful to them, when they found, as they very soon found, that from the force of events, the hostilities which had ceased in Europe were, by virtue of a legal fiction, to be continued in India. They were still to fight the battle for supremacy, not as principals, but as allies of the native princes who, in the disorder accompanying the catastrophe of the Mughal empire, fought for their own hand, against the native allies of the English.

⁵ Forrest, page 4. The report which he gives in extenso, minuted by the Council of the Madras Presidency, runs as follows: 'The condition we have received it (Madras) in is indeed very indifferent, the French having undermined the fortifications, and rifled it of all useful and valuable stores.'

The official statement is quite opposed to the private accounts hitherto accepted as true.

CHAPTER V

CLIVE DECIDES FOR THE CAREER OF A SOLDIER

Before the conditions of the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle had become known in India, the English governor of Fort St. David had despatched thence a small force of 430 Englishmen and 1000 sipáhís to assist the ex-Rájá of Tanjore, who had been dethroned for gross misconduct, to recover his kingdom. That, at least, was the nominal reason. The ambition to obtain for the English possession of Devikota, a fort on the river Coleroon, at the point where that river runs into the sea, was the true cause of the action. The force was commanded by Captain Cope, an officer of inferior merit. Clive accompanied it as a volunteer. The expedition failed from causes which it was impossible to combat. The ex-Rájá had no partisans, and the season was that of the monsoon-storms.

Still the idea was too popular to be abandoned. After the treaty between the two nations had reached India the expedition was therefore resumed. This time Major Lawrence, released by the action of that treaty, assumed the command. He took with him the entire available European force of the Company, leaving only a few to man the defences, and giving Clive a commission for the time only, to accompany him as lieutenant, proceeded to Devikota by sea, landed his troops, and commenced to batter the place. On the morning of the fourth day a practicable breach was pronounced, and a storming party was ordered. By his conduct Clive had already won the esteem of Lawrence,¹ and it was to him that he gave command of the party.

¹ The partiality which induced Lawrence to entrust Clive with so important a duty is to be found under his own hand. 'A man of undaunted resolution,' he writes in his memoirs, 'of a cool temper, and a presence of mind which never left him in the greatest danger. Born a soldier, for, without a military education of any sort or much conversing with any of the profession, from his judgement and good sense, he led an army like an experienced officer and a brave soldier, with a prudence that certainly warranted success. This young man's early genius surprised and engaged my attention, as well before as at the siege of Devikota, where he behaved in courage and judgement much beyond what could have been expected from his years, and his success afterwards confirmed what I had said to so many people concerning him.' Cambridge's War in India, pp. 18-19.

To lead a storming party is an honour full of danger. So found Clive on this occasion. Of the twenty-nine Europeans who composed it, twenty-six were swept away by the enemy's horsemen, the sipáhís halting and witnessing the deed. Clive with the three survivors managed to join the main body which was advancing under Lawrence, and this body, repulsing a charge of cavalry which endeavoured to thwart it, pushed vigorously on, and stormed Devikota. Abandoning the cause of the ex-Rájá, Lawrence then made a treaty with the powers that were, in virtue of which Devikota was ceded to the East India Company, and the Rájá paid all the expenses of the war. The force returned to Fort St. David to find the fleet of Admiral Boscawen still off the coast.

But, during the absence of the English troops, there had occurred in the Karnátik one of those revolutions which were not uncommon in the days of the dissolution of the Mughal empire.

On the 17th of April, 1748, the titular King of Delhi, Muhammad Sháh, had died. His son, Ahmad Sháh, had succeeded him. Rather less than a month later, the Súbahdár of the Deccan, the famous Nizám-ul-Múlk, also died. He had in his lifetime arranged that the succession to the inheritance of the Deccan should devolve upon his second son, Nasír Jang, and Ahmad Sháh at once confirmed the nomination.² But those were not the days when a succession to vast power and great territories went unopposed. A claimant to the sovereignty of the Deccan soon appeared in the person of Muzaffar Jang, grandson of the late Súbahdár, and at the moment holding the government of Bíjapur. Not sufficiently powerful to press his claim without assistance Muzaffar Jang proceeded at once to Sátára, enlisted the Maráthás in his cause, persuaded them to release Chánda Sáhib, and to supply him with troops. The arrangement between the two princes was that, in case of success, Muzaffar Jang should become Súbahdár of the Deccan, Chánda Sáhib Nawáb of the Karnátik. It is necessary to state these facts clearly, because the war, thus initiated, formed the basis of the continued hostilities between the French and English after peace had been proclaimed in Europe.

² Elliott's History of India, pp. 112-3, vol. viii.

The reader may recollect that in the earlier part of this book³ I have shown how Chánda Sáhib had formed a very high opinion of the French and how he had cultivated their friendship. Resolving now to avail himself of former favours, he made overtures to Dupleix, and obtained from him promise of substantial assistance. These promises were kept, and, towards the end of July, 1749, a detachment of French soldiers joined the armies of the two conspirators at the Damalcherri Pass. A few days later (August 3) they met at Ambúr the army of Anwar-ud-dín, completely defeated it, slew Anwar-ud-dín himself, took prisoner his eldest son, the Ma'afuz Khán who had been defeated by Paradis at St. Thomé, and forced the second son, Muhammad Alí, to save himself by flight to Trichinopoli. Marching straight to Arcot, Muzaffar Jang proclaimed himself Súbahdár of the Deccan, and Chánda Sáhib to be Nawáb of Arcot. As the French had espoused the cause of Chánda Sáhib it was natural that the English should sustain the claims of the rival. This rival was Muhammad Alí, the son of the late Nawáb, just escaped from the field of Ambúr. The two pretenders, whose cause had been adopted by the French, then proceeded to Pondicherry. There Dupleix, whose vision on political matters was remarkably clear, insisted that before committing themselves further, they should rid themselves of the only possible rival then at large, and should march against Trichinopoli. This they hesitated to do so long as the English fleet should remain off the coast.

³ [Chapter III].

This was the situation when Lawrence and Clive returned from the storming of Devikota. The chief of the English settlement was then Mr. Floyer, a gentleman who had a great dread of responsibility. The fighting party in the Council of Fort St. David urged that Muhammad Alí should be supported, that the English fleet should remain off the coast, and that Trichinopoli should be defended. The admiral declared his willingness to remain if Mr. Floyer would only ask him. But Floyer shrank from the responsibility. Consequently the fleet sailed on the 1st of November, leaving behind 300 men as an addition to the garrison.

The very day after the disappearance of the English fleet had become known (November 2), Muzaffar Jang and Chánda Sáhib, with their French allies, marched towards Trichinopoli. But the two Indian princes had been most improvident. They had spent all their funds. To obtain more they assailed the strong fortress of Tanjore, captured one of the gates of the fortress, and forced the Rájá to agree to pay them very large sums. But the wily prince, learning that Nasír Jang was marching to his aid, managed to delay the chief payment until he had ascertained that the Súbahdár was within striking distance of the place. He then point-blank refused to hand over the money. The news of the approach of Nasír Jang spread disorder in the ranks of the armies of Muzaffar Jang and Chánda Sáhib, and they hurriedly retreated on Pondicherry.

Scenes of indescribable turmoil followed. In one of the skirmishes that ensued there occurred an event which, unpromising as it appeared at the outset, proved the means of the temporary accomplishment of the plans of the two conspirators. In a skirmish Muzaffar Jang was taken prisoner and placed in irons by the Súbahdár. When in that position, however, he managed to corrupt three of the principal chiefs who followed the banner of that prince. Their schemes were communicated to Chánda Sáhib and to his French allies. The result was that when the two rival armies joined battle at a place sixteen miles from the strong fortress of Gingi, which, meanwhile, the French under Bussy had captured, Nasír Jang's own levies turned against him and slew him; released Muzaffar Jang, and acknowledged him Súbahdár of the Deccan.

This event occurred on the 16th of December, 1750. Chánda Sáhib himself carried the news of the accomplished revolution from the battlefield to Pondicherry. The new Súbahdár followed him, and, for a while, French interests seemed predominant in the Karnátik. Then, for a moment, the tide seemed to ebb. On his way to Aurangábád Muzaffar Jang was slain by the very three conspirators who had compassed the death of his predecessor. The French troops with the force, commanded by the energetic Bussy, speedily avenged his death, and caused Salábat Jang, the third son of the late Nizám-ul-Múlk, to be proclaimed his successor. As Bussy with a force of French troops was to remain with him as his protector, it seemed as though French influence was destined to remain predominant in Southern India.

And so but for one man it would have remained, increasing its strength until its roots had spread far and wide below the surface. This, we believe, is the true lesson of the early part of this biography. It was one man's genius which, meeting the French on the ground of their own selection, seized their idea, made it his own, and worked it to their destruction. It was Clive who hoisted Dupleix with his own petard. We shall now see how.

After the return of the troops from the conquest of Devikota, the Government of Fort St. David had appointed Clive to be Commissary of the forces. Before, however, he could assume the duties of the office he had fallen sick, and had been sent by the doctors for a cruise in the Bay of Bengal. On his return thence in the early days of 1751 he found great demands on his activity. It devolved on him to equip a force of 280 English and 300 sipáhís, ordered, under Cope, to proceed to Trichinopoli, still threatened by the French and their allies. This accomplished, Clive was directed to accompany, as Commissary, a larger force of 500 English, 1000 sipáhís, and 100 Africans, ordered, under Captain Gingens, for Volkonda, 38 miles to the north-north-east of Trichinopoli, there to intercept a French force marching in that direction.

Gingens was not a strong officer, and by gross mismanagement he allowed the French to get the better of him. Clive, whose soldier's eye and martial instincts disapproved entirely of the evils he could not, from his position, prevent,⁴ then and there quitted the force and returned to Fort St. David.

⁴ Captain Dalton, who served under Captain Gingens, writes of him in his journal as 'a man of unfortunately jealous temper which made him mistrust the goodwill of any who offered to give him advice.' Vide Memoir of Captain Dalton, 1886, pp. 93-4.

The return of Clive was opportune. The new Governor, Mr. Saunders, a man of a large and comprehensive intellect, was waiting the arrival of troops from England to fit out a new expedition of 80 Englishmen and 300 sipáhís to convoy provisions to Trichinopoli. He had no officer, however, to whom he dared entrust the command. A civilian of his Council, Mr. Pigot, was then deputed to lead the force the first forty miles, when it would be beyond the reach of hostile attack, and Clive volunteered to go with him. The force set out in July, 1751, and on the third day reached Verdachelam, the point indicated. Thence the two English civilians turned back as had been arranged, and, though attacked on the way by a swarm of native horsemen, reached Fort St. David in safety. The detachment then marched through a safe country to Trichinopoli.

A few days later fresh troops arrived from England. Mr. Saunders was anxious to despatch these to reinforce the troops under Gingens, but again the same difficulty presented itself. Meanwhile Clive had deliberately considered his position. As a civilian, he had had a career which did not satisfy him. As Commissary, it had been his fate to witness the inefficient leading of others, without any authority to interfere. He felt within him the power to command. His transfer to the military service would, he saw, relieve the Governing Council from a great difficulty, and give him, possibly, a command which he could exercise for the benefit of his country. Very soon did he decide. Mr. Saunders, whose appreciation of him was not inferior to that of Major Lawrence, sanctioned the transfer of his name to the military list, bestowed upon him the commission of captain,⁵ and directed him to proceed at once, with a detachment of the few troops available, to Devikota, to place himself there under the orders of Captain Clarke, whose total force would thus be augmented to 100 English, 50 sipáhís, and one field-piece. The two officers were then to march with this detachment to Trichinopoli. There Clive was to take stock of the position and report to Mr. Saunders.

⁵ The order of appointing Clive ran as follows:—'Mr. Robert Clive, who has lately been very serviceable in conducting several parties to camp, offering to go, without any consideration of pay, provided we will give him a Brevet to entitle him to the rank of a Captain, as he was an Officer at the Siege of Pondichery, and almost the whole time of the War, and distinguished himself on many occasions, it is conceived that this Officer may be of some service, and, therefore, now ordered that a Brevet be drawn out, and given him.' Forrest.

This happened towards the end of July, 1751.

CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST YEAR OF SOLDIERING AT TRICHINOPOLI AND ARCOT

The state of affairs in Trichinopoli was sufficient to cause considerable alarm as to the result of the war. Chánda Sáhib was besieging that fortress with a very large native force, aided by 900 Frenchmen. His rival, Muhammad Alí, depended solely on the 600 English who were assisting him, for of his own troops there were but 5000, and of these 2000 were horsemen.

But that which most impressed Clive when he arrived there with Captain Clarke early in August was the depression which filled the minds of the native prince and the English soldiers. The treasury of Muhammad Alí was exhausted, and he despaired of success. The English soldiers had no confidence in their leaders, and, with a few exceptions,¹ the leaders had no confidence in themselves. To rouse leaders and men from their apathy Clive felt that something startling must be attempted. Not indeed at Trichinopoli, for Captain Gingens, who commanded there, though a brave man, was scarcely equal to taking a bold initiative in face of the preponderating troops of the enemy. Alike at school, and in his researches in the Governor's library at Madras, Clive had read of the achievements of great commanders who, pressed hard by enemies at home, had changed the fate of the campaign by carrying the war into the enemy's country. What an opportunity for such a strategy where he was! To take Trichinopoli Chánda Sáhib had massed all, or nearly all, his available troops before that place, leaving the capital of the Karnátik, Arcot, absolutely denuded of trustworthy fighting men. The true method of relieving the former place was to seize and hold the latter. Impressed with this idea, Clive returned to Fort St. David and communicated it to Mr. Saunders. This large-minded man embraced the plan with fervour, and although at the two principal places held by the English, Madras and Fort St. David, he had but 350 English soldiers, he resolved to risk 200 of them on the expedition.² The command of it he gave to Clive, but one month before a simple civilian, and despatched him forthwith to Madras, to march thence with his raw levies, most of them recently arrived from England.

¹ One of these exceptions was Captain John Dalton, whose journal, published in 1886 (Messrs. W. H. Allen & Co.), adds much to our knowledge of the individuals engaged in the campaign.

² Forrest, page 10. The Board unanimously concurred with Mr. Saunders.

It was on the 26th of August, 1751, that Clive set forth from Madras on the march which was to bring to him immortal fame, and to secure for his countrymen the first footing on the ladder which was to conduct them to empire. He had with him 200 English soldiers, 300 sipáhís, and three small field-pieces. Of his eight officers, four were volunteers from the civil service who, with two of the others, had never been under fire. On the 29th the little force reached Kanchípuram, 42 miles from Madras and 27 from Arcot. There he learned that that place was garrisoned by about 1200 native soldiers, that the discipline was lax, and that a surprise was quite feasible; but that the place itself was capable of a good defence. He did not wait longer. Setting out in a terrible storm, he reached the vicinity of Arcot on the 31st, surprised the fort, and compelled the town to surrender, without losing a single man. Having taken measures to store provisions, he marched on the 4th September to the mud fort of Tímerí, frightened the 600 native soldiers encamped there into retreating, and returned. Two days later, having been informed that the enemy had again gathered there to the number of 2000, he marched again against them, attacked and completely defeated them. From want of heavy guns he did not take the fort.

Relieved from the chances of immediate attack, Clive returned to improve, as far as he could, the defences of the place he had captured. One of his first acts had been to write to Madras for some 18-pounder guns. These were at once despatched. But the enemy, now fully awake, attempted to intercept them at Kanchípuram. To save his guns Clive marched thither with all his force except 80 men. He did save the guns, but the enemy, profiting by his absence, attacked Arcot with all their available numbers. The garrison, however, small as it was (30 Englishmen and 50 sipáhís), had become imbued with their leader's spirit. They repulsed the attack, Clive brought the guns into the fort, and the enemy dispersed.

Meanwhile the news of the brilliant enterprise had spread far and wide; had brought hope to the defenders of Trichinopoli, and alarm and irritation to Chánda Sáhib and his French allies. More even than that. The important kingdom of Mysore, the ruler of which had been long pressed by the rival combatants, declared now in favour of Muhammad Alí, and sent an army under its Dalwai (Prime Minister) to assist him. The native chiefs who ruled the territories which connected the beleaguered town with the eastern coast followed the example of Mysore;—an enormous gain, for it ensured the safety of the English convoys from the coast. Greatly impressed with these defections, Chánda Sáhib at once despatched 3000 of his best troops to join the forces which his son, Rájá Sáhib, was commanding in North Arcot. There they would be joined by 150 Frenchmen. One of Clive's objects had thus been already attained. The capture of Arcot had enormously weakened the enemy's attack: had more than proportionately increased the strength of the defence of Trichinopoli.

The eyes of India south of the great Vindhyan range were now turned upon Arcot. Upon its successful or unsuccessful defence depended the future in India of the two European nations which, though nominally at peace, were warring desperately against each other. The siege began on the 23rd of September. It was characterized by extraordinary tenacity, great daring, infinite powers of resource, on the part of Clive and the defenders. The sipáhís vied with the English alike in courage and in capacity to withstand fatigue, hunger, and thirst. Their self-denial, displayed when they insisted that the water which was brought to them under much difficulty should be offered first to their European comrades, went the round of the world. It gave evidence of the cordiality which was to exist for a century, and to be renewed in 1861-2 under conditions more favourable than ever. At length, after more than seven weeks of continuous pounding, the breach became practicable. The rumour that the great Maráthá soldier, Morári Ráo, was approaching the place to lend a hand to Clive, determined Rájá Sáhib to utilize his advantage without delay. On the 14th of November he sent every available man to the breach. The garrison, enfeebled though they were by privations, few in number from their losses, separated by the necessities of the defence, met their assailants with a courage as stern, a resolution as dogged, as that which, in difficult circumstances, English soldiers have always displayed. After an hour's fierce fighting, in which the French took no part, the besiegers fell back, beaten, baffled, and humiliated. At two o'clock that afternoon they begged to be allowed to bury their dead. At two o'clock the following morning they disappeared in the direction of Vellore.

Thus ended the siege of Arcot. It had lasted fifty days. The manner in which it ended gave the English, and especially the English leader, a prestige which had an enormous effect on the campaigns that followed. What a great thing this much-abused 'prestige' is in India was illustrated by the fact that the minds of the native princes and peoples all over the southern part of the peninsula turned to Clive as to a master whom they would follow to the death. He inverted the positions of the two nations, confounded by his brilliant action the schemes of Dupleix, and, very soon afterwards, was able to impose his will, representing the will of the English nation, upon all the native princes who ruled or reigned in the territories of Haidarábád and the Karnátik.

For—another great feature in the character of this man—Clive never left a work half-finished. The blow, he felt, was weak and paltry unless it were driven home. So he felt, so he acted, on this occasion. On the 19th he took Timerí, the fort which had before baffled him. Joined then by Morári Ráo with 1000 Maráthá horsemen, he marched on Arni, seventeen miles south of Arcot, to attack Rájá Sáhib, who had taken post there with the army which had lately besieged him, reinforced by French troops just arrived from Pondicherry. The superiority in numbers of the force of Rájá Sáhib was so great that, when he noted the approach of Clive, he turned to meet him. Clive halted where he was. He had recognized that his position was excellent for defence, covered in front by rice-fields impracticable for guns, on the right by a village, and on the left by a grove of palm-trees. There he ranged his troops to meet the threatened attack.

It came very quickly, for the space between the two forces was but 300 yards. The enemy had discovered a narrow causeway leading across the marshy ground to the village on Clive's right. Heralding their approach with an advance of cavalry, they directed a portion of their horsemen to assail the village on the right; another portion to drive Morári Ráo from the grove; whilst the main body of the infantry should cross the causeway. The last-named was a dangerous operation in the face of a man like Clive, for whilst the narrowness of the causeway rendered the advance slow, it gave time to Clive to concentrate upon it the fire of his guns. And this he did. For a time the French, who led the attack, marched boldly. At length they came under the full fire of the guns. It was the story of the bridge of Arcola, but there was no Bonaparte to lead them on. They hesitated, halted, then fell back with precipitation; and, quitting the causeway, formed on the rice-fields, almost touching the cavalry on their left, who were fighting fiercely to gain an entrance into the village. This was the supreme moment, and Clive's genius utilized it to the utmost. Whilst the enemy were busily engaged on the right and left, their centre still reeling under the losses sustained on the causeway, he detached a body of English soldiers into the village, directing them to seize the head of the causeway, and, traversing it rapidly with a portion of the sipáhís, to dash on the enemy's centre, and seize their guns. Well was he served. No sooner did the enemy perceive the English on the causeway than a panic struck their centre, and they hastened to fall back. The panic communicated itself to the two wings, already severely handled; they too let go their hold, and turned to follow their comrades. True to the principle referred to in a preceding page, Clive pressed them hardly, not staying pursuit until darkness rendered it fruitless. The record of this, his first real battle, fought against more than double his numbers, was a splendid one. Whilst his own losses were but eight sipáhís of his own force, and some fifty horsemen of his Maráthá allies, there were killed or wounded fifty Frenchmen and about three times that number of the natives. Whilst the English had fought mostly under cover, the enemy had had the disadvantage of being exposed, especially on the causeway.

Fit sequel to the defence of Arcot was this fight at Arni. It dispersed the army of Rájá Sáhib, caused many of his soldiers, always in the East inclined to side with the strongest, to desert to the victors; it induced the ruler of the fort of Arni to declare for Muhammad Alí; and it deprived the enemy of their military chest. From its field Clive marched rapidly on Kanchípuram, took possession, after a short siege, of the strong pagoda which, meanwhile, had been seized by the enemy; then, having placed in Arcot a sufficient garrison, returned to Madras, thence to Fort St. David, having carried out to the letter the programme he had submitted at the latter place to Governor Saunders.

Well had he done it. The army of Chánda Sáhib, doubled up by the terrible blow struck in the very centre of his possessions, still indeed held the position before Trichinopoli, but, from an enemy confident, boastful, certain of ultimate success, he had become an enemy timid, irresolute, doubtful of the issue, shrinking from his own shadow. The prestige gained by the young Englishman paralyzed his vitality. It required apparently but one more blow to complete his demoralization. The one condition of that blow was that it must be struck quickly, suddenly, before the enemy should have time to recover. Considerations such as these, we may be sure, formed the staple of the conversations at Fort St. David between the young captain and the Governor after the return of the former from Arcot.

CHAPTER VII

'THE SWELL AND DASH OF A MIGHTY WAVE'¹

¹ 'The battle of Napoleon was the swell and dash of a mighty wave before which the barrier yielded, and the roaring flood poured onwards, covering all things.' Sir W. Napier's Peninsular War.

But there was one distinguished actor in the events I have recorded who was by no means inclined to sit passively under the severe blow which had but just upset all his calculations. This man was Dupleix, the Governor of Pondicherry. The plan of taking Trichinopoli had been his plan. To take that place he had used all the resources open to him: he had, in fact, for that purpose pawned the resources of Pondicherry. But one thing he had not done. He had not removed from the court of the Súbahdár the one competent general, Bussy-Castelnau, generally known as Bussy, to carry out his ideas. He had bent all his hopes on Law of Lauriston, nephew of the famous Scotch financier, and who commanded the French troops before Trichinopoli. He leant, however, on a reed, on which, when a man leaneth, it pierces his hand. As a soldier under command Law was excellent. As a Commander-in-chief he was pitiable, dreading responsibility, timid, nervous, wanting in every quality of a general. At the moment Dupleix did not know this. He had seen Law fight well and gallantly at the siege of Pondicherry: he had known him full of self-confidence, and he had believed him capable of great things.

When, then, Clive struck that blow at the middlepiece of the Karnátik dominion, which paralyzed the army before Trichinopoli, Dupleix, whose brain had not been paralyzed, sent the most pressing orders to Law not to care for events passing at Arcot, but to redouble his efforts against the fortress he was besieging; to use every effort to take the place before Clive's unexpected blow should produce its natural consequences. To accomplish this end he despatched to him a battering-train and all the Frenchmen he had available.

Dupleix could transmit his orders, but he could not send with them the daring spirit which inspired them. Law had before Trichinopoli 900 French soldiers, of excellent quality, 2000 sipáhís trained in the French fashion, and the army of Chánda Sáhib. It was a force to attempt anything with in India. If a superior officer on the spot had said to Law 'Attack!' he would have attacked with conspicuous courage. But it was the weakness of his nature that, being in command, he could not say the word himself. Therefore he did nothing.

But to Clive, recognizing all that was possible, ignorant only of the character of the French commander, the situation seemed full of danger. He must strike again, and strike immediately. The successful blow at the middlepiece must be followed up by a blow at the head. That head was Trichinopoli. He prepared therefore, as soon as the recruits expected from England should arrive, to march to that place, and compel the raising of the siege.

Dupleix had divined all this. Once again was this young Englishman to baffle him. As Law would not act he must devise some other means to defeat him. Why, he said to himself, should I not take a leaf from the Englishman's book, reconquer Arcot, possibly attack Madras, and make it evident to the native princes that Pondicherry is still the stronger? The idea pleased him, and he proceeded, in the most secret manner, to act upon it.

Incited by the urgent requests and promises of Dupleix, Rájá Sáhib, the beaten of Arni, quietly levied troops, and joined by a body of 400 Frenchmen, appeared suddenly before Punamallu on the 17th of January. Punamallu is a town and fort in the Chengalpat district, thirteen miles west-south-west from Madras. The town, but not the fort, fell at once into the hands of the enemy. Had the allies then marched on Madras they might have taken it, for it had but a garrison of 100 men. They preferred, however, to march on Kanchípuram. There they repaired the damages the English had done to the defences of the great pagoda, and, leaving 300 sipáhís to defend it, marched to Vendalúr, twenty-five miles to the south of Madras, and established there a fortified camp, whence they levied contributions on the surrounding country. Their plan was so to coerce northern Arcot as to compel the English to quit Trichinopoli, to save it.

They had succeeded in thoroughly alarming alike the English and the petty chieftains in alliance with them when information of their action reached Fort St. David. There Clive and Saunders were busily engaged in preparing for the new expedition which the former was to lead, as soon as the drafts from England should arrive, to the relief of Trichinopoli. The information changed all their plans. Saunders at once sent a pressing message to Bengal to despatch all available English soldiers to Madras. Thither Clive proceeded; took command of the 100 Englishmen forming its garrison; and ordered from Arcot four-fifths of the troops stationed there. On the 20th of February the troops from Bengal arrived: on the 21st the Arcot garrison was within a march of Madras. On the following morning Clive quitted that fort, and, joined as he marched forth by the men from Arcot, took the direction of Vendalúr, having, all told, 380 Englishmen, 1300 sipáhís, and six field-pieces. His movements, however, had become known to the enemy. These, therefore, had quitted Vendalúr on the night of the 21st; had marched by various routes to Kanchípuram; and, re-uniting there, had pushed with all speed towards Arcot. There they had made arrangements to be received, but their plot had been discovered, and finding their signals unanswered, they had marched to Káveripák, a town ten miles to the east of Arcot. There, in front of the town, they encamped, in a position previously carefully chosen as the one most likely to invite surprise, for which they proceeded to thoroughly prepare themselves.

Clive, meanwhile, had been marching on Vendalúr. He had made some way thither when scouts reached him with the news that the birds had flown, and in different directions. To gain further information he continued his march and reached Vendalúr. After staying there five hours certain information reached him that he would find the enemy at Kanchípuram. Thither he proceeded, and there he arrived at four o'clock on the morning of the 23rd, having made a forced march, with a rest of five hours, of forty-five miles. It was then nine o'clock in the morning, and he resolved to rest for the day.

But, after his men had slept a few hours, the anxiety of Clive regarding Arcot impelled him to break their slumbers, and order them forward. They set out accordingly about one o'clock, and about sunset came in sight of Káveripák, but not of the French hidden in front of it. The French leader, in fact, had laid his plans with the greatest skill. A thick mango-grove, covered along two sides by a ditch and bank, forming almost a redoubt, roughly fortified along the faces by which the English must advance, covered the ground about 250 yards to the left of the road looking eastwards. There the French had placed, concealed from view, their battery of nine guns and a portion of their best men. About a hundred yards to the right of the road, also looking eastwards, was a dry watercourse, along the bed of which troops could march, sheltered, to a great extent, from hostile fire. In this were massed the rest of the infantry, native and European. The cavalry was in the rear, hidden by the grove, ready to be launched on the enemy when they should reach the ground between the watercourse and the grove. The men were on the alert, expecting Clive.

The space at my disposal will not permit me to give the details of the remarkable battle² which followed. It must suffice to say that no battle that was ever fought brought into greater prominence the character of its commander. In the fight before Káveripák we see Clive at his best. He had marched straight into the trap, and, humanly speaking, was lost. It was his cool courage, his calmness in danger, his clearness of mind in circumstances of extraordinary difficulty, his wonderful accuracy of vision, the power he possessed of taking in every point of a position, and of at once utilizing his knowledge, that saved him. He was, I repeat, lost. He had entered the trap, and its doors were fast closing upon him. Bravely did his men fight to extricate him from the danger. Their efforts were unavailing. Soon it came about that the necessity to retreat entered almost every mind but his own. Even the great historian of the period, Mr. Orme, wrote that 'prudence counselled retreat.' But to the word prudence Clive applied a different meaning. To him prudence was boldness. What was to become of the British prestige, of the British position in Southern India, if he, without cavalry, were to abandon the field to an enemy largely provided with that arm, and who would be urged to extraordinary energy by the fact that the unconquered hero of Arcot had fled before them?

² The reader who would care to read such a detailed account will find it in the writer's Decisive Battles of India, ch. ii.

No: he would think only of conquering; and he conquered. After four hours of fighting, all to his disadvantage, he resolved to act, in petto, on the principle he had put into action when he first seized Arcot. He would carry the war into the enemy's position. By a very daring experiment he discovered that the rear of the wooded redoubt occupied by the French had been left unguarded. With what men were available he stormed it; took the enemy by surprise, the darkness wonderfully helping him; and threw them into a panic. Of this panic he promptly took advantage; forced the Frenchmen to surrender; then occupied their strong position, and halted, waiting for the day. With the early morn he pushed on and occupied Káveripák. The enemy had disappeared. The corpses of fifty Frenchmen and the bodies of 300 wounded showed how fierce had been the fight. He had, too, many prisoners. His own losses were heavy: forty English and thirty sipáhís. But he had saved Southern India. He had completely baffled the cunningly devised scheme of Dupleix.

The consequences of the battle were immediately apparent. Northern Arcot having been freed from enemies, Clive returned to Fort St. David, reached that place the 11th of March, halted there for three days, and was about to march to strike a blow at the other extremity, Trichinopoli, when there arrived from England his old and venerated chief, Stringer Lawrence. The latter naturally took command, and two days later the force Clive had raised, and of which he was now second in command, started with a convoy for Trichinopoli. On the 26th it was met eighteen miles from that fortress by an officer sent thence to inform Lawrence that the French had despatched a force to intercept him at Koiládí, close to and commanding his line of advance. By great daring, Lawrence made his way until he had passed beyond the reach of the guns of the badly-commanded enemy and the fort, and before daybreak of the following morning was joined by a small detachment of the garrison: another, of greater force, met him a little later. He had, in fact, practically effected a junction with the beleaguered force at the outpost of Elmiseram when he learned that the French were marching against him. They contented themselves, however, with a fierce cannonade: for, as Clive advanced to cover the movement of the rest of the force, they drew back, and Lawrence, with his troops, and the convoy he was escorting, entered Trichinopoli. The French commander was so impressed by this feat of arms, which gave the defenders, now assisted by Morári Ráo and the Dalwai of Mysore, a strength quite equal to his own, that he fell back into the island of Seringham. There he was faced on one side by Lawrence. To cut off his communications with the country on the further side of the river Kolrun, Lawrence despatched Clive³ with 400 English and some 700 sipáhís, accompanied by some Maráthá and Tanjore cavalry, to occupy the village of Samiáveram, a village commanding with three others the exit from the island on the only practicable route. Clive set out on the 7th of April, occupied Samiáveram the same day, and, two days later, made his position stronger by storming and occupying the pagoda of Mansurpet, and the mud fort of Lalgudi. There still remained Paichanda. The occupation of this would complete the investment of the island on that side.

³ It is a striking testimony to the prestige Clive had already acquired with the native princes that when Muhammad Alí, the Dalwai, and Morári Ráo were consulted by Lawrence as to co-operating in the expedition, they consented only on the condition that Clive should command.

Meanwhile Dupleix, thoroughly disgusted with Law had despatched M. d'Auteuil with a small force to take command in his place. Whilst Clive was engaged in occupying the two places he had stormed, and was preparing to attack the third, d'Auteuil was approaching the town of Utátur, fifteen miles beyond Samiáveram, the headquarters of Clive. He arrived there on the 13th of April, and although his force—120 Frenchmen, 500 sipáhís, and four field-pieces—was far inferior to that of Clive, he resolved to make a flank-march to the river and open communications with Law. He sent messengers to warn that officer of his intention, and to beg him to despatch troops to meet him. But Clive captured one of these messengers, and resolved to foil his plans.

D'Auteuil had set out on the morning of the 14th, but had not proceeded far when he noticed the English force barring the way, and returned promptly to Utátur. Clive then fell back on Samiáveram.

There was a strongly fortified pagoda, named Paichanda, on the north bank of the Kolrun, forming the principal gateway into the island of Seringham, which Clive had intended to take, but which, owing to the movements of d'Auteuil, he had not yet attempted. On receiving the message from d'Auteuil of which I have spoken, Law had resolved to debouch by this gateway, and fall on Clive whilst he should be engaged with d'Auteuil. But, when the time for action came, unable to brace himself to an effort which might have succeeded, but which possessed some element of danger, he despatched only eighty Europeans, of whom one-half were English deserters, and 700 sipáhís, to march by the portal named, advance in the dark of the night to Samiáveram, and seize that place whilst Clive should be occupied elsewhere. The knowledge of English possessed by the deserters would, he thought, greatly facilitate the task.

His plan very nearly succeeded to an extent he had never contemplated. Clive had returned from his demonstration against d'Auteuil, and, worn out and weary, had laid himself down to sleep in a caravanserai behind the smaller of the two pagodas occupied as barracks by his men. They also slept. This was the position within the village when a spy, sent forward by the leader of the surprising party, returned with the information that Clive and his men were there, and were sleeping. This news decided the commander to press on and to seize the great Englishman where he lay. By means of his deserters he deceived the sentries. One of the former, an Irishman, informed the tired watchmen that he had been sent by Lawrence to strengthen Clive. The party was admitted, and one of the garrison was directed to lead its members to their quarters. They marched quietly through the lines of sleeping Maráthás and sipáhís till they reached the lesser pagoda. There they were again challenged. Their reply was a volley through its open doors on the prostrate forms within it. They went on then to the caravanserai and repeated their action there.

Again was Clive surprised. Once more were the coolness, the clearness of intellect, the self-reliance, of one man pitted against the craft and wiles of his enemies. Once again did the one man triumph. He was, I repeat, as much surprised as the least of his followers. Let the reader picture to himself the situation. To wake up in darkness and find an enemy, whose numbers were unknown, practically in possession of the centre of the town, in the native inn of which he had gone peacefully to sleep but two hours before; his followers being shot down; some of them scared; all just awakening; none of them cognizant of the cause of the uproar; many of the intruders of the same nation, speaking the same language as himself; all this occurring in the sandy plains of India: surely such a situation was sufficient to test the greatest, the most self-reliant, of warriors. It did not scare Clive. In one second his faculties were as clear as they had ever been in the peaceful council chamber. He recognized, on the instant, that the attackers had missed their mark. They had indeed fired a volley into the caravanserai in which he had lain with his officers, and had shattered the box which lay at his feet and killed the sentry beside him, but they had not stopped to finish their work. Instantly Clive ran into one of the pagodas, ordered the men there, some two hundred, to follow him, and formed them alongside of a large body of sipáhís who were firing volleys in every direction, whom he believed to be his own men. To them he went, upbraided them for their purposeless firing, and ordered them to cease. But the men were not his men, but French sipáhís. Before he had recognized the fact, one of them made a cut at him with his talwar, and wounded him. Still thinking they were his own men, Clive again urged them to cease fire. At the moment there came up six Frenchmen, who summoned him to surrender. Instantly he recognized the situation. Instantly his clear brain asserted itself. Drawing himself up he told the Frenchmen that it was for them and not for him to talk of surrender; bade them look round and they would see how they were surrounded. The men, scared by his bearing, ran off to communicate the information to their commander. Clive then proceeded to the other pagoda to rally the men posted there. The French sipáhís took advantage of his absence to evacuate the town. The Frenchmen and the European deserters meanwhile had occupied the lesser pagoda. They had become by this time more scared than the surprised English. Their leader had recognized that he was in a trap. His mental resources brought to him no consolation in his trouble. He waited quietly till the day broke, and then led his men into the open. But Clive had waited too; and when the Frenchmen emerged, he received them with a volley which shot down twelve of them. They hurried back to their place of shelter, when Clive, wishing to stop the effusion of blood, me to the front, pointed out to them their hopeless position, and offered them terms. One of them, an Irishman, levelled his musket at Clive, and fired point-blank at him. The ball missed Clive, but traversed the bodies of two sergeants behind him. The French commander showed his disapproval of the act by surrendering with his whole force. Clive had sent the Maráthás and the cavalry to pursue the French sipáhís. These caught them, and cut them up, it is said, to a man.

Thus ended the affair at Samiáveram. I have been particular in giving the details which illustrate the action of Clive, because they bring home to the reader the man as he was: a man not to be daunted, clear and cool-headed under the greatest difficulties; a born leader; resolute in action; merciful as soon as the difficulties had been overcome: a man, as Carlyle wrote of another, not less distinguished in his way, 'who will glare fiercely on an object, and see through it, and conquer it; for he has intellect, he has will, force beyond other men.'

The end was now approaching. On the 15th of May, Clive captured Paichanda. He then marched on Utátur, forced d'Auteuil to retreat on Volkonda, and, following him thither, compelled him (May 29) to surrender. Three days later Law followed his example. The entire French force before Trichinopoli gave itself up to Major Lawrence. Its native allies did the same. The one regrettable circumstance in the transaction was the murder of Chánda Sáhib at the instance of his rival.

After this, Clive returned to Fort St. David; was employed during the fall of the year in reducing places which still held out against the Nawáb. This campaign tried his constitution, already somewhat impaired, very severely, and on its conclusion, in the beginning of October, he proceeded to Madras to rest from his labours. There he married Miss Maskeleyne, the sister of a fellow-writer, with whom, in the earlier days of his Indian life, he had contracted a friendship. But his health continued to deteriorate, and he was forced to apply for leave to visit Europe. This having been granted, he quitted Madras in February, 1753, full of glory. His character had created his career. But for his daring, his prescience, his genius, and his great qualities as a soldier, it is more than probable that Dupleix would have succeeded in establishing the basis of a French empire in Southern India.

CHAPTER VIII

CLIVE IN ENGLAND; AND IN BENGAL

The visit of Clive to England was scarcely the success hoped for. His fame had preceded him, and the Court of Directors had assured him, through the Governor of Madras, that they had 'a just sense of his services.' Perhaps the person who had been the most astonished at his brilliant success was his own father. He had remarked, when he first heard of his victories, that 'the booby had some sense after all.' But then it must be recollected that the father had seen but little of the boy during his childhood and growing years, and that his unfavourable impression had been derived probably from the aversion shown by the lad to enter his own profession. But even he, now, was prepared to follow the stream, and give a hearty reception to the defender of Arcot. So, at first, Clive was fêted and toasted in a manner which must have convinced him that his services were appreciated. The Court of Directors carried out the promise I have referred to by giving a great banquet in his honour, and by voting him a diamond-hilted sword as a token of their esteem. This honour, however, Clive declined unless a similar decoration were also bestowed upon the chief under whom he had first served, Major Stringer Lawrence.

Clive had earned sufficient money to live with great comfort in England. He did not look forward then to return to India as an absolute certainty. Rather he desired to enter Parliament, and await his opportunity. It happened that the year following his arrival the dissolution of the existing Parliament gave him an opportunity of contesting the borough of St. Michael in Cornwall. He was returned as a supporter of Mr. Fox, but the return was petitioned against, and although the Committee reported in his favour, the House decided, from a purely party motive, to unseat him. This disappointment decided Clive. He had spent much money, and with this one result—to be thwarted in his ambition. He resolved then to return to the seat of his early triumphs, and applied to the Court for permission to that effect.

The Court not only granted his request, but obtained for him the commission of lieutenant-colonel in the royal army, and named him Governor and Commander of Fort St. David, with succession to the Governorship of Madras.

Clive took with him to India three companies of artillery and 300 infantry. He was instructed to convey them to Bombay, and, joined by all the available troops of the Company and their Maráthá allies, to endeavour to wrest the Deccan from French influence. But, just as he was sailing, he discovered that, through royal influence, Colonel Scott of the Engineers, then on the spot, had been nominated to the command, with himself as his second. Not caring to take part in an expedition in which his own voice would not be the decisive voice, Clive was anxious to proceed to take up his government at Fort St. David, when, on his arrival, he learned the death of Colonel Scott. This event recalled him to the original plan. But another complication ensued. Very shortly before he had arranged to march there came the information that the French and English on the Coromandel coast had entered into a treaty, binding on the two nations in India, not to interfere in the warlike operations of native princes. The Deccan project, therefore, had to be abandoned.

Another promptly took its place. A small fort built by the great Sivají on a small island in the harbour of Viziadrug, called by the Muhammadans Gheriá, had for many years past been made the headquarters of a hereditary pirate-chief, known to the world as Angria. This man had perpetrated much evil, seizing territories, plundering towns, committing murders, robbing peaceful vessels, and had made his name feared and detested along the entire length of the Malabar coast. The necessity to punish him had long been admitted alike by the Maráthás and the English. The year preceding the Bombay Government had despatched Commodore Jones with a squadron to attack Angria's possessions. Jones accomplished something, but on arriving before Dábhol he was recalled on the ground that the season was too late for naval operations on that coast.

In the autumn of the following year Admiral Watson came out to assume command of the squadron. It had by this time become more than ever necessary to bring the affair to a definite conclusion, and, as Clive and his troops were on the spot, the Bombay Government, acting with the Maráthás, resolved to despatch the fleet and army to destroy the piratical stronghold. Of the expedition, which reached its destination in February, it is sufficient to state that in two days it destroyed Gheriá. Thence Clive pursued his voyage to the Coromandel coast, and arrived at Fort St. David on the 20th of June.

On that very day there occurred in Calcutta the terrible tragedy of the Black Hole. The Súbahdár of Bengal, Bihár, and Orissa, the Nawáb Siráj-ud-daulá, had, for some fancied grievance, prompted probably by the hope of plunder, seized the English factory at Kásimbázár, near his capital of Murshidábád, plundered it, imprisoned the garrison, and had thence marched against Calcutta. He attacked that settlement on the 15th of June, and after a siege of four days, conducted with great want of leading on the part of the English, obtained possession of it. The English Governor, Mr. Drake, the senior military officer, and many others, had fled for refuge on board the ships in the river Húglí, which immediately had weighed anchor and stood downwards, leaving about 145 men, some of them high in office, and one lady, Mrs. Carey, a prey to the enemy. These were seized and taken before the Nawáb and his commander of the forces, Mír Jafar by name. The Nawáb spoke kindly to them, and ordered that they should be guarded for the night, having no intention whatever, there is the strongest reason to believe, that any harm should befall them. But, owing to the natural cruelty or indifference of their guards, they were thrust, after the departure of the Nawáb, into a small room, about eighteen feet square, ill ventilated, and just capable of receiving them when packed together so closely as to render death certain to the majority. Vainly did they remonstrate; vainly did they send a message to the Nawáb: he was asleep, and no one dared to awaken him. Into that hole they were locked, and in it they remained until the light of day showed that the pestiferous atmosphere had been fatal to all of them except twenty-three. These were then released and taken before the Nawáb. Far from expressing regret for the sufferings of which he had been the involuntary cause, the Nawáb questioned them only about the place in which their treasure had been hidden. For, so far, he had been greatly disappointed at the result of his raid.

The story of the capture of Kásimbázár reached Madras on the 15th of July. The Governor immediately despatched a detachment of 230 European troops for the Húglí, under command of Major Kilpatrick, and this detachment reached its position off the village of Falta on the 2nd of August. For the moment we must leave it there.

It was not until three days after the arrival of Kilpatrick at Falta that information of the Black Hole outrage reached Madras. The position there was critical. The Governor was in daily expectation of hearing that war had been declared with France, and he had already parted with a large detachment of his best troops. The question was whether, in the presence of the possible danger likely to arise from France, he should still further denude the Presidency he administered. The discussion was long. Happily it was finally resolved to despatch to the Húglí every available ship and man. The discussion as to the choice of the commander was still more prolonged; but, after others had insisted on their rights, it was finally determined to commit the command of the land-forces to Clive—who had been summoned from Fort St. George to the consultation—in subordination, however, to Admiral Watson, commanding the squadron. It was not until the second week of October that every detail was settled, nor until the 16th of that month that the fleet sailed for the Húglí. The first ship reached the river, off Falta, the 11th of December. But with the exception of two, one laden with stores, the other grounding off Cape Palmyras, but both of which joined at a later period, the others reached their destination at periods between the 17th and 27th of that month.

The land-forces at the disposal of Clive consisted, including the few remnants of Kilpatrick's detachment,¹ which had suffered greatly from disease, of 830 Europeans, 1200 sipáhís, and a detail of artillery. One ship, containing over 200, had not arrived, and many were on the sick-list.

¹ Orme states that one-half of them had died and that only thirty were fit for duty.

On the 17th of December Watson had written to the Nawáb to demand redress for the losses suffered by the Company, but no answer had been vouchsafed. As soon then as all the ships, the two spoken of excepted, had assembled off Falta, Watson wrote again to inform him that they should take the law into their own hands. On the 27th the fleet weighed anchor, and stood upwards. On the 29th it anchored off Maiápur, a village ten miles below the fort of Baj-baj. It was obvious to both commanders that that fort must be taken; but a difference of opinion occurred as to the mode in which it should be assailed, Clive advocating the proceeding by water, and landing within easy distance of the place, Watson insisting that the troops should land near Maiápur, and march thence. Clive, much against his own opinion, followed this order. Landing, he covered the ten miles, and posted his troops in two villages whence it would be easy to attack the fort on the morrow. The troops, tired with the march, and fearing no enemy, then lay down to sleep. But the Governor of Calcutta, Manikchand, had reached Baj-baj that very morning with a force of 2000 foot and 1500 horse. He had noted, unseen, all the dispositions of Clive, and at nightfall he sallied forth to surprise him. The surprise took effect, in the sense that it placed the English force in very great danger. But it was just one of those situations in which Clive was at his very best. He recognized on the moment that if he were to cause his troops to fall back beyond reach of the enemy's fire, there would be a great danger of a panic. He ordered therefore the line to stand firm where it was, whilst he detached two platoons, from different points, to assail the enemy. One of these suffered greatly from the enemy's fire, but the undaunted conduct of the English in pressing on against superior numbers so impressed the native troops that they fell back, despite the very gallant efforts of their officers to rally them. Clive was then able to form his main line in an advantageous position, and a shot from one of his field-pieces grazing the turban of Manikchand, that chief gave the signal to retire. That night the fort of Baj-baj was taken by a drunken sailor, who, scrambling over the parapet, hailed to his comrades to join him. They found the place abandoned.

On the 2nd of January Calcutta surrendered to Clive. A great altercation took place between that officer and Watson as to the appointment of Governor of that town. Watson had actually nominated Major Eyre Coote, but Clive protested so strongly that, eventually, Watson himself took possession, and then handed the keys to Mr. Drake, the same Drake who had so shamefully abandoned the place at the time of Siráj-ud-daulá's attack. Three days later Clive stormed the important town of Húglí, once a Portuguese settlement, afterwards held by the English, but at the time occupied for the Nawáb.

Meanwhile that prince, collecting his army, numbering about 40,000 men of sorts, was marching to recover his lost conquest. To observe him Clive took a position at Kásipur, a suburb of Calcutta, now the seat of a gun-factory. As the Nawáb approached, the English leader made as though he would attack him, but finding him prepared, he drew back to await a better opportunity. By the 3rd of February the entire army of the Nawáb had encamped just beyond the regular line of the Maráthá ditch. Thither Clive despatched two envoys to negotiate with the Nawáb, but finding that they were received with contumely and insult, he borrowed some sailors from the Admiral, and, obtaining his assent to the proposal, resolved to attack him before dawn of the next day. Accordingly at three o'clock on the morning of the 4th of February, Clive broke up, and, under cover of one of those dense fogs so common in Bengal about Christmastime, penetrated within the Nawáb's camp. Again was he in imminent danger. For when, at six o'clock, the fog lifted for a few seconds, he found the enemy's cavalry massed along his flank. They were as surprised at the proximity as was Clive himself, and a sharp volley sent them scampering away. The fog again descended: Clive knew not exactly where he was; his men were becoming confused; and Clive knew that the step from confusion to panic was but a short one. But he never lost his presence of mind. He kept his men together; and when, at eight o'clock, there was a second lifting of the fog, and he recognized that he was in the very centre of the enemy's camp, he marched boldly forward, and not only extricated his troops, but so impressed the Nawáb that he drew off his army, and on the 9th signed a treaty, by which he covenanted to grant to the English more than their former privileges, and promised the restoration of the property he had seized at the capture of Calcutta. This accident of the fog and its consequences form, indeed, the keynote to the events that followed. The circumstances connected with it completely dominated the mind of the Nawáb; instilled into his mind so great a fear of the English leader that he came entirely under his influence, and, though often kicking against it, remained under it to the end. This feeling was increased when, some weeks later, Clive, learning that war had been declared between France and England, attacked and conquered the French settlement of Chandranagar (March 23), in spite of the Nawáb's prohibition. He displayed it to the world a little later, by dismissing from his court and exiling to a place a hundred miles distant from it a small detachment of French troops which he had there in his pay, commanded by the Law who had so misconducted the siege of Trichinopoli, and by recalling his army from Plassey, where he had posted it, to a point nearer to his capital.

Of Siráj-ud-daulá something must be said. The province which he ruled from his then capital of Murshidábád had been one of the great fiefs which the dissolution of the Mughal Empire had affected. The family which had ruled it in 1739 had had the stamp of approval from Delhi. But when the invasion of Nadír Sháh in that year overthrew for the time the authority of the Mughal, an officer named Alí Vardi Khán, who had risen from the position of a menial servant to be Governor of Bihár, rose in revolt, defeated and slew the representative of the family nominated by the Mughals in a battle at Gheriá, in January, 1741, and proclaimed himself Súbahdár. Alí Vardi Khán was a very able man. Having bribed the shadow sitting on the throne of Akbar and Aurangzeb to recognize him as Súbahdár of Bengal, Bihár, and Orissa, he ruled wisely and well. On his death in 1756 he had been succeeded by his youthful grandson, the Siráj-ud-daulá, who, as we have seen, had come, so fatally for himself, under the influence of Clive.

For all the actions of Clive at this period prove that he was resolved to place matters in Bengal on such a footing as would render impossible atrocities akin to that of the Black Hole. Were he to quit Bengal, he felt, after accomplishing the mission on which he had been sent, and that mission only, what security was there that the Súbahdár would not return to wreak a vengeance the more bitter from the mortifications he had had to endure? No, there was but one course he could safely pursue. He must place the Company's affairs on a solid and secure footing. Already he had begun to feel that such a footing was impossible so long as Siráj-ud-daulá remained ruler of the three provinces. As time went on the idea gathered strength, receiving daily, as it did, fresh vitality from the discovery that among the many noblemen and wealthy merchants who surrounded the Súbahdár there were many ready to betray him, to play into his own hand, to combine with himself as against a common foe.

Soon his difficulty was to choose the man with whom he should ally himself. Yár Lutf Khán, a considerable noble, and a divisional commander of the Siráj-ud-daulá's army, made, through Mr. Watts, the English agent at Kásimbázár, the first offer of co-operation, on the sole condition that he should become Súbahdár. It was followed by another from a man occupying a still higher position, from the Bakhshí, or Commander-in-chief, Mír Jafar Khán. This Clive accepted, receiving at the same time offers of adhesion from Rájá Duláb Ráo; from other leading nobles, and from the influential bankers and merchants of Murshidábád.

Then began those negotiations one detail of which has done so much to stain the name of the great soldier. The contracting parties employed in their negotiations one Aminchand, a Calcutta merchant of considerable wealth, great address, unbounded cunning, and absolutely without a conscience. When the plot was at its thickest, this man—who was likewise betraying the confidence which Siráj-ud-daulá bestowed upon him, when the least word would have rendered it abortive—informed the Calcutta Select Committee, through Mr. Watts, that unless twenty lakhs of rupees were secured to him in the instrument which formed the bond of the confederates, he would at once disclose to the Súbahdár the plans of the conspirators. The inevitable result of this disclosure would have been ruin to all the conspirators; death to many of them. To baffle the greed of this blackmailer, Clive caused two copies of the document to be drawn up, from one of which the name of Aminchand was omitted. To disarm his suspicions, the false document was shown him. This latter all the contracting parties had signed, with the exception of Admiral Watson, who demurred, but who, according to the best recollection of Clive in his evidence before the Committee of the House of Commons, did not object to have his name attached thereto by another.²

² These are the facts of the transaction: they will be commented upon in a future page. Vide comment near the end of [Chapter X].

Space would fail were I to detail the various modes employed by the confederates to produce on the mind of Siráj-ud-daulá the conviction that his only safety lay in battle with the English. He had tried many methods to escape the dilemma, to rid himself of the heavy hand of Clive. He had made overtures to Bussy at Haidarábád; to the Maráthás; to the Court of Delhi; to the Nawáb-Wazir of Oudh. But every proposed combination had fallen through. He had quarrelled with Mír Jafar, with his chief nobles, with the bankers. He had suspected treachery, but had never been quite certain. At last, on the thirteenth of June, information was brought to him that the English agent, Mr. Watts, and his subordinates, had fled from Kásimbázár, after an interview with Mír Jafar, at the time in his disfavour. Then he gave way: then he realized that, without the aid of his nobles, he was helpless: then he guessed the whole plot; the schemes of Clive; the treason of his own people: then he turned to Mír Jafar for reconciliation, imploring him not to abandon him in his distress. Mír Jafar and the other nobles, most of whom were in the plot, all swore fealty and obedience, Mír Jafar leading the way. They would risk everything for the Súbahdár. They would drive back the cursed English, and free Bengal from their influence. Recovering his equanimity from these assurances, Siráj-ud-daulá ordered his army to march to an intrenched camp he had prepared near the village of Plassey, in the island of Kásimbázár,³ twenty-two miles distant. There was some difficulty regarding the arrears of pay of his men, failing the settlement of which they refused to march. But, with friendly assistance this difficulty was overcome; the army set out three days later for its destination, and arrived in the intrenched camp on the 21st of June.

³ Kásimbázár is called an island because whilst the base of the triangle which composes it is watered by the Ganges, the western side, on which lies Plassey, is watered by the Bhágirathí; the eastern by the Jalangí.

I propose now briefly to record the movements of Clive: then to describe the decisive battle which followed his arrival on the island.

CHAPTER IX

THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY

Meanwhile Clive had made every preparation for the advance of his army. A considerable portion of it had been stationed at Chandranagar. To that place he despatched on the 12th of June all the soldiers available, and 150 sailors lent him by the Admiral, leaving Calcutta guarded by a few sick Europeans, some sipáhís to look after the French prisoners, and a few gunners to man the guns on the ramparts. On the 13th he quitted Chandranagar, the Europeans, with the guns, munitions, and stores, proceeding by water in 200 boats, towed by natives against the stream, the sipáhís marching along the right bank of the river, on the highroad made by the Mughal Government from Húglí to Patna.¹ The force consisted, all told, of about 900 Europeans, 200 men of mixed native and Portuguese blood who served with the Europeans, a small detail of lascars, and 2100 sipáhís. The artillery consisted of eight six-pounders and two small howitzers.

¹ Vide Broome's History of the Bengal Army, p. 137.

The day after the force had set out Clive despatched to the Súbahdár a communication tantamount to a declaration of war; and he proceeded, as he approached the enemy's camp, to act as though such a declaration had been accepted. On the 16th he reached Paltí, a town on the western bank of the Kásimbázár river about six miles above its junction with the Jalangí. Twelve miles higher up he came within striking distance of Katwá, the Governor of which was supposed to be one of the conspirators. Clive, expecting that the opposition would not be serious, despatched to occupy it, on the 17th, 200 Europeans and 500 sipáhís, under Major Eyre Coote. But either the Governor had changed his mind or he had only feigned compliance, for he prepared to resist Coote's attack. Coote at once made preparations for an assault, and took such dispositions, that the garrison, recognizing the futility of resistance, and fearing to be cut off, evacuated the place, leaving large supplies in the hands of the victors.

The next day, the 18th, a terrific storm raging, the force halted. The day following, Clive, who had committed himself to the enterprise mainly on the conviction that Mír Jafar would support him, received a letter from that nobleman, informing him that he had feigned reconciliation with the Súbahdár and had taken an oath not to assist the English, but adding that 'the purport of his convention with them must be carried into execution.' This strange letter from the man upon whose co-operation he particularly depended led Clive to doubt whether, after all, Mír Jafar might not betray him. Under this possibility, the sense of the extreme danger of the enterprise in which he was engaged revealed itself to him more clearly than it had ever presented itself before. To cross an unfordable river in the face of a vastly superior enemy, at a distance of 150 miles from all support, would, he felt, be a most hazardous undertaking. Should Mír Jafar be faithless to him, as he had appeared to be to his master, and should the English force be defeated, there would scarcely survive a man to tell the tale. Again would Calcutta be in jeopardy—this time probably beyond redemption. Under the influence of such thoughts he resolved not to cross the river until he should receive from Mír Jafar more definite assurances.

The next day, the 20th, a messenger arrived from his agent, Mr. Watts, who was then at Kalná, carrying a letter to the effect that before he quitted Murshidábád he had been engaged in an interview with Mír Jafar and his son, when there entered some emissaries of the Súbahdár; that, in the presence of these, Mír Jafar had denounced Mr. Watts as a spy, and had threatened to destroy the English if they should attempt to cross the Bhágírathí. This letter decided Clive. He resolved to summon a Council of War.

There came to that Council, about noon of the 21st of June, the following officers: Colonel Clive, Majors Kilpatrick and Grant, Captains Gaupp, Rumbold, Fischer, Palmer, Le Beaume, Waggonner, Corneille, and Jennings, Captain-Lieutenants Parshaw and Molitore;—Major Eyre Coote, Captains Alexander Grant, Cudmore, Armstrong, Muir, Campbell, and Captain-Lieutenant Carstairs. The question submitted to them was: 'whether under existing circumstances, and without other assistance, it would be prudent to cross the river and come to action at once with the Nawáb, or whether they should fortify themselves at Katwá, and wait till the monsoon was over, when the Maráthás or some other country power might be induced to join them.' Contrary to the usual custom, Clive spoke first, the others following according to seniority. Clive spoke and voted against immediate action. He was supported by the twelve officers whose names immediately follow his own name in the list I have given, and opposed by the owners of the seven last names, Major Eyre Coote speaking very emphatically in favour of action; the majority of the Council, we thus see, siding with Clive.

The subsequent career of Eyre Coote, especially in Southern India, proved very clearly that as a commander in the field he fell far short of Robert Clive, but on this occasion he was the wiser of the two. Some years later Clive, giving his evidence before a Select Committee of the House of Commons, emphatically stated that had he abided by the decision of the Council it would have caused the ruin of the East India Company. As it was, he reconsidered his vote the moment the Council was over. It is said that he sat down under a clump of trees, and began to turn over in his mind the arguments on both sides. He was still sitting when a despatch from Mír Jafar² reached him, containing favourable assurances. Clive then resolved to fight. All doubt had disappeared from his mind. He was again firm, self-reliant, confident. Meeting Eyre Coote as he returned to his quarters, he simply informed him that he had changed his mind and intended to fight, and then proceeded to dictate in his own tent the orders for the advance.

² Vide Ives's Voyage and Historical Narrative, p. 150. Mr. Ives was surgeon of the Kent during the expedition to Bengal, and was a great friend of Admiral Watson.

At sunrise on the 22nd the force commenced the passage of the river. By four o'clock it was safe on the other side. Here a letter was received from Mír Jafar, informing Clive of the contemplated movements of the Nawáb. Clive replied that he 'would march to Plassey without delay, and would the next morning advance six miles further to the village of Dáudpur, but if Mír Jafar did not join him there, he would make peace with the Nawáb.' Two hours later, about sunset, he commenced his march amid a storm of heavy rain which wetted the men to the skin. In all respects, indeed, the march was particularly trying, for the recent rains had inundated the country, and for eight hours the troops had to follow the line of the river, the water constantly reaching their waists. They reached Plassey, a distance of fifteen miles, at one o'clock on the morning of the 23rd of June, and lay down to sleep in a mango-grove, the sound of drums and other music in the camp of the Nawáb solacing rather than disturbing them. The Súbahdár had reached his headquarters twelve hours before them.

The mango-tope in which the English were resting was but a mile distant from the intrenched position occupied by Siráj-ud-daulá's army. It was about 800 yards in length and 300 in breadth, the trees planted in regular rows. All round it was a bank of earth, forming a good breastwork. Beyond this was a ditch choked with weeds and brambles. The length of the grove was nearly diagonal to the river, the north-west angle being little more than 50 yards from the bank, whilst at the south-west corner it was more than 200 yards distant. A little in advance, on the bank of the river, stood a hunting-box belonging to the Nawáb, encompassed by a wall of masonry. In this, during the night, Clive placed 200 Europeans and 300 natives, with two field-pieces. But in the morning he withdrew the greater part of them.³ He had with him 950 European infantry and artillery, 200 topasses, men of mixed race, armed and equipped as Europeans, 50 sailors with seven midshipmen attached, 2100 sipáhís, a detail of lascars, and the field-pieces already mentioned.

³ Vide Orme's History of India, and Broome's History of the Bengal Army.

On the spot which the Nawáb had selected for his intrenched camp the river makes a bend in the form of a horseshoe, with the points much contracted, forming a peninsula of about three miles in circumference, the neck of which was less than a quarter of a mile in breadth. The intrenchment commenced a little below the southern point of this gorge, resting on the river, and extending inland for about 200 yards, and sweeping thence round to the north for about three miles. At this angle was a redoubt, on which the enemy had mounted several pieces of cannon. About 300 yards to the eastward of this redoubt was a hillock covered with jungle, and about 800 yards to the south, nearer Clive's grove, was a tank, and 100 yards further south was a second and larger one. Both of these were surrounded by large mounds of earth, and, with the hillock, formed important positions for either army to occupy. The Súbahdár's army was encamped partly in this peninsula, partly in rear of the intrenchment. He had 50,000 infantry of sorts, 18,000 horse of a better quality, and 53 guns, mostly 32, 24, and 18-pounders. The infantry was armed chiefly with matchlocks, swords, pikes, bows and arrows, and possessed little or no discipline; the cavalry was well-trained and well-mounted; the guns were mounted on large platforms, furnished with wheels, and drawn by forty or fifty yoke of powerful oxen, assisted by elephants. But the most efficient portion of his force was a small party of forty to fifty Frenchmen, commanded by M. St. Frais, formerly one of the Council of Chandranagar. This party had attached to it four light field-pieces.⁴

⁴ For these details see Orme, Broome, Clive's Evidence before the Committee of the House of Commons, Clive's Report to the Court of Directors, Sir Eyre Coote's Narrative, and Ives's Voyage and Historical Narrative. The account which follows is based entirely on these authorities.

At daybreak on the 23rd of June the Nawáb moved his entire army out of the intrenchment and advanced towards the position occupied by Clive, the several corps marching in compact order. In front was St. Frais, who took post at the larger tank, that nearest Clive's grove. On a line to his right, near the river, were a couple of heavy guns, under the orders of a native officer. Behind these two advanced parties, and within supporting distance, was a chosen body of 5000 horse and 7000 foot, under the immediate command of the Nawáb's most faithful general, Mír Madan.⁵ The rest of the Nawáb's army extended in a curve, its right resting on the hillock near the camp; thence sweeping round in dense columns of horse and foot to the eastward of the south-east angle of the grove. Here, nearest to the English, were placed the troops of Mír Jafar, then those of Yár Lutf Khán, beyond these Rájá Duláb Rám. The English within the grove were thus almost surrounded by the river and the enemy; but in view of the promised treachery of Mír Jafar, the greatest danger was to be apprehended from their immediate front, viz. from St. Frais, with his little body of Frenchmen, and from Mír Madan.

⁵ See Elliot's History of India, vol. viii. p. 428.

From the roof of the hunting-house Clive watched his enemy take up the positions which would hold him, if their generals were true to their master, in a vice. 'They approached apace,' he wrote in a letter of July 26 to the Secret Committee of the Court of Directors, 'and by six began to attack us with a number of heavy cannon, supported by the whole army, and continued to play on us very briskly for several hours, during which our situation was of the utmost service to us, being lodged in a large grove, with good mud banks. To succeed in an attempt on their cannon was next to impossible, as they were planted in a manner round us, and at considerable distances from each other. We therefore remained quiet in our post, in expectation of a successful attack upon their camp at night. About noon the enemy drew off their artillery and returned to their camp.'

So far, up to mid-day, we have the outline of the fight as narrated by Clive; it is, however, but an outline. It would seem that the action commenced by a discharge of one of the four guns of St. Frais. This discharge killed one and wounded another of the men of the European battalion. Immediately afterwards the whole of the enemy's guns opened fire, but their shots flew high, and did but little mischief. Clive meanwhile had drawn up his troops in line in front of the grove, their left resting on the hunting-box, with the exception of two guns and two howitzers which he had posted at some brick-kilns some 200 yards in front of the hunting-box spoken of. These, as soon as the enemy opened, replied promptly and effectively. The remaining six guns, placed three on each flank of the European battalion which formed the centre of his line, answered the heavy batteries of the enemy, but, from their small calibre, made but little impression.

After a cannonade of half an hour, the English having lost ten Europeans and twenty sipáhís in killed and wounded, Clive withdrew them under shelter of the grove, leaving one detachment at the brick-kilns, another at the hunting-box. This retrograde movement greatly encouraged the enemy. They brought their guns much nearer, and their fire became more vigorous and sustained. But its effect was less fatal, for the English troops were protected by the trees and the mud bank, and, sitting down, were but little exposed. This warfare continued till about eleven o'clock, the casualties being far greater on the side of the Nawáb's army than among the English. Then Clive summoned his principal officers to a conference, and it was resolved that the troops should occupy their existing positions until midnight, and should then attack the Nawáb's camp. We may regard the close of the conference as occurring about the same time as the withdrawal of the enemy's artillery indicated by Clive in the above extract from his despatch.

For, scarcely was the conference over, than the skies poured down a fierce shower, such as occurs often during the rainy season, which lasted an hour. Then it was that the enemy's artillery fire slackened by degrees almost to the point of ceasing, for the rain had damaged their ammunition, left almost completely without cover. Clive had been more careful of his powder, so that when the enemy's horse, believing the English guns as powerless as their own, advanced towards the grove to charge, they were received with a fire which emptied many a saddle, and sent them reeling back. In this charge Mír Madan, previously referred to, was killed.⁶

⁶ Elliot states, on the authority of the J'ami'ut Taw'ari'kh, that he was accidentally struck by a cannon-ball. History of India, vol. viii. p. 427.

The death of this brave and faithful soldier greatly disheartened the Súbahdár. He sent for Mír Jafar, and implored him to remain faithful to his oath. Taking off his turban and casting it at the feet of his uncle,⁷ he exclaimed in humble tones, 'Jafar, that turban thou must defend.' Mír Jafar promised, but instead of performing, the degenerate Muhammadan returned to his confederates and sent a despatch to Clive, informing him of all that had passed, and begging him to push on immediately, or, if that were impossible, not to fail to attack during the night. His letter did not reach Clive till late in the evening. Meanwhile other influences had been at work to bring about a similar result.

⁷ Mír Jafar had married the sister of Alí Vardi Khán, the Nawáb's father.

It is impossible not to feel sympathy for the youthful prince, surrounded by traitors, his one true adherent killed. Scarcely had Mír Jafar quitted him when there came to him another traitor, Rájá Duláb Rám, who commanded the army corps nearest to the position he had taken. The Rájá found his master in a state of great agitation. The English were showing themselves in the open; his own men were giving way; hope was vanishing quickly. Instead of encouraging the Súbahdár to fight it out, the treacherous Rájá gave fuel to his fears, told him the day was lost, and urged him to flee to Murshidábád. In an evil hour for his dynasty and for himself, Siráj-ud-daulá yielded to his persuasions, and, ordering his troops to retire within the intrenchment, mounted a swift dromedary, and fled, accompanied by 2000 horsemen, to his capital.

It was then two o'clock. The first hour since Clive's conference had been marked by the heavy rain; the second by the repulse of the Súbahdár's horsemen; the following up of the repulsed attack; the conversations of the Súbahdár with his two treacherous generals. By two o'clock the enemy's attack had completely ceased, and they were observed yoking their oxen preparatory to withdrawing within the intrenchment as the Súbahdár had ordered. There remained only on the ground that body of forty gallant Frenchmen under St. Frais, whom I have described as occupying the ground about the larger tank, that nearest to the grove. The post was an important one, for from it the English could have taken the retreating enemy in flank, and have inflicted heavy loss upon them. St. Frais was nearly isolated, but he, too, had seen the advantage the English would derive from occupying the position, and, faithful amid the faithless, he, with the gallantry of his nation, resolved to defend it until it should be no longer defensible.

There was with the army a very gallant officer, Major James Kilpatrick, who had greatly distinguished himself in Southern India, and who, on this occasion, commanded the Company's troops. Kilpatrick had noted the firm front displayed by St. Frais, the great advantage to be derived from occupying the position he held, the disadvantage of leaving him to hold it whilst the English force should advance. He resolved, then, to expel him: so sending word to Clive of his intentions, and of the reason which prompted his action, he marched with two companies towards St. Frais.

Clive, meanwhile, seeing the enemy's attack broken, yet deeming it better, not having received Mír Jafar's letter, to wait till the sun should have descended before making the decisive attack, had proceeded to the hunting-box to rest after so many hours of fatigue and excitement, to be followed, he believed, by many more, having first given orders that he should be informed of any change that might occur in the enemy's position. He was there when the message of Kilpatrick reached him. Rising, he hurried to the spot, met Kilpatrick as he was advancing to the assault, reprimanded him for having taken such a step without orders, but seeing him so far forward, he took himself the command of the detachment, sending back Kilpatrick to the grove to bring the remainder of the troops. When St. Frais recognized the earnestness of the English, and that he was entirely without support, he evacuated the post, and retreated to the redoubt at the corner of the intrenchment. There he placed his guns ready for action.⁸

⁸ This episode is not specially mentioned by Clive, but it rests on irrefragable evidence. Vide Orme, vol. ii. p. 176: see also Sir Eyre Coote's Narrative, also Malcolm's Life of Lord Clive, vol. i. p. 260.

Meanwhile, whilst the English force was thus advancing, the army corps commanded by Mír Jafar was observed to linger behind the rest of the retreating enemy. It was noticed, further, that when it had advanced almost abreast of the northern line of the grove, it faced to its left and advanced in that direction. For a time it seemed to the English officers as though the troops composing it were about to make a raid on their baggage, and a party with a field-piece was sent forward to check them. The corps then halted, remained so for a time, then slowly retired, taking, however, a direction which led it apart from the other corps of the enemy. We shall return to them in a few moments.

Whilst this corps was executing the manoeuvre I have described, Clive had advanced to a position whence he could cannonade the enemy's camp. The effect of this fire was to cause great loss and confusion amongst the troops of the Súbahdár, at the same time that the English, giving, by their advance, their flank to the French in the redoubt, suffered also. To put an end to this cross-fire Clive saw that the one remedy was to storm the redoubt. He was unwilling, however, to risk his troops in a severe contest with the French so long as the army corps, the movements of which I have described in the preceding paragraph, should continue to occupy its apparently threatening position. That corps might be the corps of Mír Jafar, but there was no certainty that it was so, for Clive had not then received Mír Jafar's letter, nor was he aware of the flight of the Nawáb. It was just at this critical moment that he observed the corps in question making the retrograde movement I have referred to. Then all doubt was over in his mind. It must, he was convinced, be the corps of his adherent. Certain now that he would not be molested, he hurled his troops against the redoubt and the hillock to the east of it. St. Frais displayed a bold front, but, abandoned almost immediately by his native allies, and deeming it wiser to preserve his handful of Europeans for another occasion, he evacuated the redoubt, leaving his field-pieces behind him. His resistance was the last opposition offered to the English. The clocks struck five as he fell back, thus tolling the memorable hour which gave to England the richest province in India; which imposed upon her the necessity to advance upwards from its basis until she should reach the rocky region called with some show of reason the 'Glacis of the Fortress of Hindustán.'

Just as the beaten and betrayed army was moving off with its impedimenta, its elephants, its camels, leaving to be scrambled for an enormous mass of baggage, stores, cattle, and camp equipage, Clive received messengers from Mír Jafar requesting an interview. Clive replied by appointing a meeting for the morrow at Dáudpur, a village twenty miles to the south of Murshidábád. Thither the bulk of the troops, their spirits cheered by the promise made them that they would receive a liberal donation in money, marched that evening; whilst a detachment under Eyre Coote went forward in pursuit, to prevent the enemy from rallying. After a short halt, to enable the commissariat to exchange their small and worn-out bullocks for the splendid oxen of the Súbahdár, the troops pressed on, and at eight o'clock the entire force was united at Dáudpur.

Such was the battle of Plassey. The loss of the English force was extremely small, amounting to seven Europeans and sixteen sipáhís killed, and thirteen Europeans and thirty-six sipáhís wounded. No officer was killed: two were wounded, but their names are not recorded. A midshipman of the Kent, Shoreditch by name, was shot in the thigh, whilst doing duty with the artillery. The enemy's casualties were far greater. It was calculated to be, in killed and wounded, about a thousand, including many officers. They had been far more exposed than the English. Writing, in the letter already referred to, of the phases of the action between two and five o'clock, Clive states that their horse exposed themselves a great deal; that 'many of them were killed, amongst the rest four or five officers of the first distinction.'

Clive had gained his victory. We have now to record the use that he made of it.

CHAPTER X

HOW CLIVE DEALT WITH THE SPOILS OF PLASSEY: HIS DEALINGS WITH MÍR JAFAR; WITH THE PRINCES OF SOUTHERN INDIA; WITH THE DUTCH

The following morning Clive despatched Mr. Scrafton and Omar Beg¹ to escort Mír Jafar to his camp. The time had arrived when one at least of the spoils of Plassey was to be distributed.

¹ Omar Beg was a confidential agent of Mír Jafar, attached to Clive's person.

Long previous to the battle Clive had received various proposals from the three general officers who had commanded the three principal army corps at Plassey. First, Yár Lutf Khán had made him a bid, his main condition being that he should be proclaimed Súbahdár.² Then Mír Jafar outbad him, bringing with him Rájá Duláb Rám, who would be content with the office of Finance Minister under the Mír. It had been arranged that whilst Mír Jafar should be proclaimed Súbahdár of the three provinces, he should confirm to the English all the advantages ceded by Siráj-ud-daulá in the preceding February; should grant to the Company all the lands lying to the south of Calcutta, together with a slip of ground, 600 yards wide, all round the outside of the Maráthá Ditch;³ should cede all the French factories and establishments in the province; should pledge himself that neither he nor his successors in the office of Súbahdár should erect fortifications below the town of Húglí; whilst he and they should give to, and require from, the English, support in case of hostilities from any quarter. Mír Jafar covenanted likewise to make very large payments to the Company and others under the name of restitution for the damages they had suffered since the first attack on Calcutta; others also under the title of gratification for services to be rendered in placing him on the masnad.⁴ In the former category were reckoned one karor, or ten millions, of rupees to be paid to the Company; ten lakhs to the native inhabitants of Calcutta, seven lakhs to the Armenians. Under the second head payments were to be made to the army, the squadron, and the members of the Special Committee of Calcutta, to the extent noted below.⁵

² Súbahdár was the correct official title of the governor, or, as he is popularly styled, the Nawáb, of Bengal.

³ It must be recollected that in those days the Maráthás were regarded as serious and formidable enemies. It was against their depredations that the ditch round Calcutta, known as the 'Maráthá Ditch,' had been dug.

⁴ Masnad, a cushion, signifying the seat of supreme authority.

⁵ The Squadron was to receive 2,500,000 rupees; the Army, the same; Mr. Drake, Governor of Calcutta (the same who had quitted Calcutta and his companions to take shelter on board ship at the time of Siráj-ud-daulá's attack), 280,000; Colonel Clive, as second in the Select Committee (appointed before the war to negotiate with Mír Jafar), 280,000; Major Kilpatrick, Mr. Watts, and Mr. Becher, as members of the said Committee, 240,000 each. I may here state in anticipation that, in addition to these sums, the following private donations were subsequently given, viz.: to Clive, 1,600,000 rupees; to Watts, 300,000; to the six members of Council, 100,000 each; to Walsh, Clive's secretary and paymaster to the Madras troops, 500,000; to Scrafton, 200,000; to Lushington, 50,000; to Major A. Grant, commanding the detachment of H.M.'s 39th regiment, 100,000.

The first of these contracts, now become binding, was to be carried out on the morning of the 24th of June, at the interview between the two principal parties, Clive and Mír Jafar. It has occurred to me that the reader may possibly care to know something more, little though it be, of the antecedents of this general, who, to his own subsequent unhappiness, betrayed his master for his own gain.

Mír Muhammad Jafar was a nobleman whose family had settled in Bihár. He had taken service under, had become a trusted officer of, Alí Vardi Khán, the father of Siráj-ud-daulá, and had married his sister. On his death, he had been made Bakhshí, or Commander-in-chief, of the army, and, in that capacity, had commanded it when it took Calcutta in June, 1756.⁶ Between himself and his wife's nephew, Siráj-ud-daulá, there had never been any cordiality. The latter, with the insolence of untamed and uneducated youth, had kicked against the authority of his uncle; had frequently insulted him; and had even removed him from his office. Mír Jafar had felt these slights bitterly. Living, as he was, in an age of revolution, dynasties falling about him, the very throne of Delhi the appanage of the strongest, he felt no compunction in allying himself with the foreigner to remove from the throne—for it was virtually a throne—of Murshidábád the man who alternately insulted and fawned upon him. Little did he know, little even did he reck, the price he would have to pay. Fortunately for his peace of mind at the moment the future was mercifully hidden from him. But those who are familiar with the history of Bengal after the first departure thence of Clive for England will admit that never did treason so surely find its own punishment as did the treason of Mír Jafar.

⁶ There can be no doubt about this. 'About five o'clock the Nawáb entered the fort, carried in an open litter, attended by Mír Jafar Khán, his Bakhshí or General-in-chief, and the rest of his principal officers.' He was present when the English were brought before the Nawáb: vide Broome, p. 66. Orme, vol. ii. p. 73, makes a similar statement.

But he is approaching now, with doubt and anxiety as to his reception, the camp in which he is to receive from his confederate the reward of treason, or reproaches for his want of efficient co-operation on the day preceding. On reaching the camp, writes the contemporaneous historian of the period,⁷ 'he alighted from his elephant, and the guard drew out and rested their arms, to receive him with the highest honours. Not knowing the meaning of this compliment, he drew back, as if he thought it a preparation to his destruction; but Colonel Clive, advancing hastily, embraced him, and saluted him Súbahdár of Bengal, Bihár, and Orissa, which removed his fears.' They discoursed then for about an hour. Clive pressed upon him the great necessity of proceeding at once to Murshidábád to look after Siráj-ud-daulá, and to prevent the plunder of the treasury. The new Súbahdár assented, and, returning to his army, set out and arrived at the capital the same evening. Clive, having sent friendly letters to the other chief conspirators, made a short march of six miles to the village of Baptá, and encamped there for the evening. At noon the day following he proceeded to Madhupur, whence he despatched Messrs. Watts and Walsh, with an escort of 100 sipáhís, to arrange for the payments noted in a preceding page. These soon found that the treasury was not at the moment equal to the demand. They arranged accordingly that one moiety should be paid down: of this moiety two-thirds in hard coin, one-third in jewels and plate; that the second moiety should be discharged by three equal payments, extending over three years.

⁷ Orme, vol. ii. p. 178.

Whilst these negotiations were progressing, Clive, having ascertained that the other chief conspirators had accepted the terms offered to them, entered the city of Murshidábád (July 29), attended by 200 Europeans and 300 sipáhís, and took up his quarters in the palace of Murádbágh, his followers encamping in the garden attached to it. Here he was waited upon by Míran, the eldest son of Mír Jafar, and with him he proceeded to the Súbahdár's palace, where Mír Jafar and his principal officers were waiting to receive him. Clive, after saluting Mír Jafar, led him to the masnad, and, despite some affected unwillingness on the part of the Mír, seated him upon it, hailed him with the usual forms as Súbahdár, offering at the same time a nazar of 100 ashrafís.⁸ He then, through an interpreter, addressed the assembled nobles, congratulated them on the change of masters, and urged them to be faithful to Mír Jafar. The usual ceremonies followed, and the new ruler was publicly proclaimed throughout the city.

⁸ The value of an ashrafía, at a later period called by the English 'Gold Muhr,' was about 1l. 11s. 8d. A 'nazar' is a gift offered and received when people of rank pay their respects to a prince. It is more properly called 'Nazráná.'

It is impossible to quit this subject without recording, as briefly as possible, the fate of the relative Mír Jafar had betrayed and supplanted. Siráj-ud-daulá, fleeing, as we have seen, from the field of Plassey, had reached Murshidábád the same night. The next morning the news of the total rout of his army reached him. He remained in his palace till dusk, then, accompanied by his favourite wife, he embarked on a boat, hoping to find refuge in the camp of M. Law, who was advancing from Bhágalpur. But at Rájmahál the strength of the rowers gave out, and the young prince rested for the night in the buildings of a deserted garden. There he was discovered, and, taken back, was made over to Mír Jafar. The interview which followed will recall to the English historical student the scene between James II and the Duke of Monmouth. There was the same vain imploring for life on the one side, the same inexorable refusal on the other. That same night Siráj-ud-daulá was stabbed to death in his cell.

Another scene, scarcely less revolting in its details, had occurred the preceding day. I have mentioned the two treaties made by the conspirators, the one the real treaty, the other a counterpart, drawn up to deceive Aminchand. In the distribution of the plunder it had become necessary to disclose the truth to the wily Bengal speculator. For him there need be but little pity. Entrusted with the secrets of the conspirators, he had threatened to betray them unless twenty lakhs of rupees should be secured to him in the general agreement. He was, in a word—to use an expression much in use at the present day—a 'blackmailer.' Clive and the officers with whom he was acting thought it justifiable to deceive such a man. The hour of his awakening had now arrived. The two treaties were produced, and Aminchand was somewhat brutally informed by Mr. Scrafton that the treaty in which his name appeared was a sham; that he was to have nothing. The sudden shock is said to have alienated his reason. But if so, the alienation was only temporary. He proceeded on a pilgrimage to Malda, and for a time abstained from business. But the old records of Calcutta show that he soon returned to his trade, for his name appears in many of the transactions in which the English were interested after the departure of Clive.

Nor was the dealing with Aminchand the only matter connected with the distribution of the spoil which caused ill-feeling. There had been much bitterness stirred up in the army by the fact that the sailors who had fought at Plassey should receive their share of the amount promised to the navy in addition to that which would accrue to them as fighting men. A mixed Committee, composed of representatives of each branch of the military service, had decided against the claims of the sailors to draw from both sources, and Clive was appealed to to confirm it. But Clive, who, in matters of discipline, was unbending, overruled the decision of the Committee, placed its leader, Captain Armstrong, under arrest, and dissolved the Committee. In a dignified letter Clive pointed out to the Committee their error, and drew from them an apology. But the feeling rankled. It displayed itself a little later in the acquittal of Captain Armstrong by a court-martial. In other respects the distribution of the money was harmful, for it led to excesses among officers and men, and, consequently, to a large increase of mortality.

Meanwhile the new Súbahdár began to find that the State-cushion was not altogether a bed of roses. The enormous sums demanded by his English allies, and by other adherents, had forced him, as soon as Clive had left for Calcutta, to apply the screw to the wealthier of his new subjects. Even his fellow-conspirators felt the burden. Rájá Duláb Rám, whom he had made Finance Minister, with the right to appropriate to himself five per cent. on all payments made by the Treasury, retired in dudgeon to his own palace, summoned his friends, and refused all intercourse with Mír Jafar. The Rájá of Purniah and the Governor of Bihár went into rebellion. The disaffection reached even the distant city of Dháká, where the son of Sarfaráz, the representative of the ancient family ruling in Bengal, lived in retirement and hope. Under these circumstances Mír Jafar, though he well knew what it would cost him, made an application for assistance to Clive.

The English leader had expected the application. He had recognized long before that, in the East, power depends mainly on the length of the purse, and that, from having exhausted his treasury, Mír Jafar would be forced to sue to him in forma pauperis. Clive had studied the situation in all its aspects. The blow he had given to native rule by the striking down of the late Súbahdár had rendered absolute government, such as that exercised by Siráj-ud-daulá, impossible. Thenceforth it had become indispensable that the English should supervise the native rule, leaving to the Súbahdár the initiative and the semblance. Clive had reason to believe that whilst Mír Jafar would be unwilling to play such a rôle, he would yet, under pressure, play it. He had seen that the new ruler was so enamoured of the paraphernalia of power that, rather than renounce it, he would agree to whatever terms he might impose which would secure for him nominal authority. There was but one point regarding which he had doubts, and that was whether the proud Muhammadan nobles to whom, in the days of the glories of the Mughal empire, great estates had been granted in Bengal, would tamely submit to a system which would give to the Western invaders all the actual power, and to the chief of their own class and religion only the outer show.

The application from Mír Jafar, then, found Clive in the mood to test this question. Mír Jafar had thrown himself into his hands; he would use the chance to make it clear that he himself intended to be the real master, whilst prepared to render to the Súbahdár the respect and homage due to his position. Accordingly he started at once (November 17) for Murshidábád with all his available troops, now reduced at Calcutta to 400 English and 1300 sipáhís, and reached that place on the 25th, bringing with him the disaffected Rájá of Purniah. His peace he made with the Mír Jafar; then, joined by the 250 Europeans he had left at Kásimbázár, he proceeded to Rájmahál, and encamped there close to the army of the Súbahdár, who had marched it thither with the object of coercing Bihár.

This was Clive's opportunity. Bihár was very restive, and the Súbahdár could not coerce its nobles without the aid of the English. Clive declined to render that aid unless the Súbahdár should, before one of his soldiers marched, pay up all the arrears due to the English, and should execute every article of the treaty he had recently signed. For Mír Jafar the dilemma was terrible. He had not the money; he had made enemies by his endeavours to raise it. In this trouble he bethought him of Rájá Duláb Rám, recently his Finance Minister, but whom he had subsequently alienated. Through Clive's mediation a reconciliation was patched up with the Rájá. Then the matter was arranged in the manner Clive had intended it should be, by giving the English a further hold on the territories of the Súbahdár.

It was agreed that Clive should receive orders on the treasury of Murshidábád for twelve and a half lakhs of rupees; assignments on the revenues of Bardwán, Kishangarh, and Húglí for ten and a half: for the payments becoming due in the following April, assignments on the same districts for nineteen lakhs: then the cession of the lands south of Calcutta, so long deferred, was actually made—the annual rental being the sum of 222,958 rupees. These arrangements having been completed, Clive accompanied the Súbahdár to the capital of Bihár, the famous city of Patná. There they both remained, the Súbahdár awaiting the receipt of the imperial patents confirming him in his office; Clive resolved, whatever were the personal inconvenience to himself, not to quit Patná so long as the Súbahdár should remain there. They stayed there three months, a period which Clive utilized to the best advantage, as it seemed to him at the moment, of his countrymen. The province of Bihár was the seat of the saltpetre manufacture. It was a monopoly⁹ farmed to agents, who re-sold the saltpetre on terms bringing very large profits. Clive proposed to the Súbahdár that the East India Company should become the farmers, and offered a higher sum than any at which the monopoly had been previously rated. Mír Jafar was too shrewd a man not to recognize the enormous advantages which must accrue to his foreign protectors by his acquiescence in a scheme which would place in their hands the most important trade in the country. But he felt the impossibility of resistance. He was a bird in the hands of the fowler, and he agreed.

⁹ The possession of this monopoly became the cause of the troubles which followed the departure of Clive, and led to the life-and-death struggle with Mír Kásim.

At length (April 14) the looked-for patents arrived. Accompanying that which gave to the usurpation of Mír Jafar the imperial sanction was a patent for Clive, creating him a noble of the Mughal empire, with the rank and title of a Mansabdar¹⁰ of 6000 horse. The investiture took place the day following. Then, after marching to Bárh, the two armies separated, the Súbahdár proceeding to Murshidábád; Clive, after a short stay at that place, to Calcutta.

¹⁰ For the nature of Mansab, and the functions of the holder of a Mansab (or Mansabdar) the reader is referred to Blochmann's Ain-í-Akbarí. By the original regulations of Akbar, who founded the order, the Mansabdars ranked from the Dahbashi, often Commander-in-Chief, to the Doh Hazári, Commander of 10,000 horse, to the Mansabdars of 6000 downwards. Vide Ain-í-Akbarí (Blochmann's), p. 237 and onwards.

Clive had returned to Calcutta, May 24, absolute master of the situation. He had probed to the bottom the character of the Súbahdár, and had realized that so long as he himself should remain in India, and Mír Jafar on the masnad, the English need fear no attack. But, in the East, one man's life, especially life of a usurper, is never secure. In those days the risks he incurred were infinitely greater than they are now. Clive had noted the ill-disguised impatience of several of the powerful nobles, more especially that of Míran, the son, and of Mír Kásim, the son-in-law, of the Súbahdár. He had left, then, the greater part of his English soldiers at Kásimbázár, close to the native capital, to watch events, whilst he returned to Calcutta to trace there the plan of a fortress which would secure the English against attack. The fort so traced, received the name of its predecessor, built by Job Charnock in the reign of King William III, and called after him, Fort William.

Nearly one month later, June 20, there arrived from England despatches, penned after learning the recapture of Calcutta, but before any knowledge of the events which had followed that recapture, ordering a new constitution for the administering of the Company's possessions in Bengal. The text of the constitution, ridiculous under any circumstances, was utterly unadapted to the turn events had taken. It nominated ten men, not one of whom was competent for the task, to administer the affairs of Bengal. The name of Clive was not included amongst the ten names. It was not even mentioned. Fortunately for the Company, the ten men nominated had a clearer idea of their own fitness than had their honourable masters. With one consent, they represented the true situation to the Court of Directors, and then, with the same unanimity, requested Clive to accept the office of President, and to exercise its functions, until the pleasure of the Court should be known. Clive could not but accede to their request.

For, indeed, it was no time for weak administration and divided counsels. Again had the French attempted to recover the position in Southern India which Clive had wrested from them. Count Lally, one of the brilliant victors of Fontenoy, had been sent to Pondicherry with a considerable force, and the news had just arrived that he was marching on Tanjore, having recalled Bussy and his troops from the court of the Súbahdár of the Deccan. With the news there had come also a request that the Government of Bengal would return to the sister Presidency the troops lent to her by the latter in the hour of the former's need to recover Calcutta.

Clive felt all the urgency of the request; the possible danger of refusing to comply with it; the full gravity of the situation at Madras. He also was one of those who had been lent. If the troops were to return, it was he who should lead them back. But he felt strongly that his place, and their place also, was in Bengal. Especially was it so in the presence of the rumours, already circulating, of great successes achieved by Lally, and by the French fleet. Such rumours, followed by his departure, would certainly incite the nobles of Bengal and Bihár, with or without Mír Jafar, to strike for the independence which they felt, one and all, he had wrested from them.

Matters, indeed, in the provinces of Bengal and Bihár had come to bear a very threatening aspect. The treasury of Mír Jafar was exhausted by his payments; his nobles were disaffected; the moneyed classes bitterly hostile. Threatened on his northern frontier by a rebellious son of the King of Delhi and by the Nawáb-Wazír of Oudh, Mír Jafar was in the state of mind which compels men of his stamp to have recourse to desperate remedies. For a moment he thought seriously of calling the Maráthás to his assistance. Then the conviction forced itself upon him that the remedy would be worse than the disease, and he renounced the idea. At last, when the army of the rebel prince had penetrated within Bihár, and was approaching Patná, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and besought abjectly the assistance of Clive.

Clive had resolved to help him when affairs in Southern India reached a point which required his immediate attention. A letter from the Rájá of Vizianagram reached him, informing him that the effect of the recall by Lally from Aurangábád of the troops under Bussy had been to leave the Northern Sirkárs¹¹ without sufficient protection; that he and other Rájás had risen in revolt, and urgently demanded the despatch thither of some English troops, by whose aid they could expel the few Frenchmen left there. It was characteristic of Clive to seize the points of a difficult situation. Few men who had to meet on their front a dangerous invasion, would have dared to despatch, to a distant point, the troops he had raised to repel that invasion, remaining himself to meet it from resources he would improvise. But, without a moment's hesitation or a solitary misgiving, Clive recognized that the opportunity had come to him to complete the work he had begun, six years before, in Southern India; that a chance presented itself to transfer the great influence exercised by Bussy at the court of the Súbahdár of the Deccan to his own nation. Leaving to himself then the care of Bengal and Bihár he directed a trusted officer, Colonel Forde, to proceed (October 12) with 500 Europeans, 2000 sipáhís, and some guns to Vizagapatam, to unite there with the Rájá's troops, to take command; and to expel the French from the Northern Sirkárs: then, if it were possible, to assume at the court of the Súbahdár the influence which the French had till then exercised. It is only necessary here to say that Forde, who was one of the great Indian soldiers of the century, carried both points with skill and discretion. He beat the French in detail, and compelled them to yield their fortresses; and, when the Súbahdár marched to their aid, he succeeded, with rare tact, in inducing him to cede to the English the whole of the territories he had conquered, and to transfer the paramount influence at his court to the English. The victories of Forde laid the foundation of a predominance which, placed some forty years later on a definite basis by the great Marquess Wellesley, exists to the present day. It is not too much to assert that this splendid result was due to the unerring sagacity, the daring under difficult circumstances, of Robert Clive.

¹¹ The districts of Ganjám, Vizagapatam, Godávari, and Krishna.

Meanwhile the solicitations of Mír Jafar increased in importunity. Even the Great Mughal called upon Clive, as a Mansabdar, to assist him to repress the rebellion of his son. Clive did not refuse. As soon as his preparation had been completed, he set out, February, 1759, for Murshidábád with 450 Europeans and 2500 sipáhís, leaving the care of Calcutta to a few sick and invalids. He reached Murshidábád the 8th of March, and, accompanied by the Mír Jafar's army, entered Patná on the 8th of April. But the rumour of his march had been sufficient. Four days before the date mentioned the rebellious prince evacuated his positions before the city, and, eventually, sought refuge in Bundelkhand. Clive entered Patná in triumph; put down with a strong hand the disturbances in its vicinity; and then returned to Calcutta, in time enough to hear of the victorious course of Forde, although not of its more solid result.

Before he had quitted Patná, Mír Jafar had conferred upon him, as a personal jágír,¹² the Zamíndárí of the entire districts south of Calcutta then rented by the East India Company.

¹² A jágír is, literally, land given by a government as a reward for services rendered. A Zamíndárí, under the Mughal government, meant a tract, or tracts of land held immediately of the government on condition of paying the rent of it. By the deed given to Clive, the East India Company, which had agreed to pay the rents of those lands to the Súbahdár, would pay them to Clive to whom the Súbahdár had, by this deed, transferred his rights. It may here be added that the Company denied the right of Clive to the rents which amounted to £30,000 per annum, and great bitterness ensued. The matter was ultimately compromised.

Clive had scarcely returned to Calcutta when there ensued complications with the Dutch.

During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries Holland had posed in the East as a rival, often a successful rival, of the three nations which had attempted to found settlements in those regions. She had established a monopoly of trade with the Moluccas, had possessed herself of several islands in the vicinity of the Straits, had expelled Portugal from Malacca (1641), from Ceylon (1658), from the Celebes (1663), and from the most important of her conquests on the coasts of Southern India (1665). In the beginning of the eighteenth century the Dutch-Indian Company possessed in the east seven administrations; four directorial posts; four military commands; and four factories. The Company was rich, and had but few debts.

Amongst the minor settlements it had made was the town of Chinsurah, on the Húglí, twenty miles above Calcutta. Chinsurah was a subordinate station, but, until the contests between the Nawáb and the English, it had been a profitable possession. We have seen how, under the pressure of Clive, Mír Jafar had made to the English some important trade-concessions. It was certain that sooner or later, these would affect the trade, the profits, and the self-respect, of the European rivals of Great Britain. Prominent as traders amongst these were the Dutch. Amongst the changes which they felt most bitterly were (1) the monopoly, granted to the English, of the saltpetre trade; (2) the right to search all vessels coming up the Húglí; (3) the employment of no other than English pilots. These injuries, as they considered them, rankled in their breasts, and they resolved to put a stop to them. To effect that purpose they entered into secret negotiations with Mír Jafar. These, after a time, ended in the entering into an agreement in virtue of which, whilst the Dutch covenanted to despatch to the Húglí a fleet and army sufficiently strong to expel the English from Bengal, the Súbahdár pledged himself to prepare with the greatest secrecy an army to co-operate with them. This agreement was signed in November, 1758, just after Clive had despatched Forde, with all the troops then available, to the Northern Sirkárs, but before his march to Patná, recorded, with its consequences, in the preceding pages. The secret had been well kept, for Clive had no suspicion of the plot. He knew he had the Súbahdár in the hollow of his hand, so far as related to the princes of the soil; he knew the French were powerless to aid the Súbahdár: and he never thought of the little settlement of Chinsurah.

In the month of June, 1759, just following the return of Clive to Calcutta, the Mír Jafar received from the Dutch a secret intimation that their plans were approaching maturity. He stayed then but a short time at the English seat of government, but returned thither in October, to be at hand when the expected crisis should occur. Meanwhile rumours had got about that a considerable Dutch fleet was approaching the Húglí, and, in fact, a large Dutch vessel, with Malayan soldiers, did arrive at Diamond Harbour. Clive had at once demanded from the Dutch authorities an explanation, at the same time that he innocently apprised Mír Jafar of the circumstance, and of the rumour. The Dutch authorities explained that the ship had been bound for Nágapatnam, but had been forced by stress of weather to seek refuge in the Húglí.

In October, whilst Mír Jafar was actually in Calcutta, the Dutch made their spring. It was a very serious attack, for the Dutch had four ships, carrying each thirty-six guns; two, each carrying twenty-six; one, carrying sixteen, and had on board these 700 European soldiers and 800 Malays: at Chinsurah they had 150 Europeans, and a fair number of native levies: behind them they had the Súbahdár. To meet them Clive had but three Indiamen, each carrying thirty guns, and a small despatch-boat. Of soldiers, he had, actually in Calcutta and the vicinity, 330 Europeans, and 1200 sipáhís. The nearest of the detachments in the country was too distant to reach the scene of action in time to take part in the impending struggle. There was aid, however, approaching, that he knew not of.

Clive revelled in danger. In its presence his splendid qualities shone forth with a brilliancy which has never been surpassed. His was the soul that animated the material figures around him. His the daring with which he could inspire his subordinates; imbue them with his own high courage; and make them, likewise, 'conquer the impossible.'

His conduct on the occasion I am describing is pre-eminently worthy of study. A short interview with Mír Jafar filled his mind with grave suspicions. He did not show them. He even permitted Mír Jafar to proceed to Húglí to have an interview with the Dutch authorities. But when the Súbahdár despatched to him from that place a letter in which he stated that he had simply granted to the Dutch some indulgences with respect to their trade, he drew the correct conclusion, and prepared to meet the double danger.

In his summary of the several courses he would have to adopt he dismissed altogether the Súbahdár from his mind. Him he feared not. With the Dutch he would deal and deal summarily. He had already despatched special messengers to summon every available man from the outposts. He now called out the militia, 300 men, five-sixths of whom were Europeans, to defend the town and fort; he formed half a troop of volunteer horsemen, and enlisted as volunteer infantry all the men who could not ride; he ordered the despatch-boat to sail with all speed to the Arakan coast, where she would find a squadron under Admiral Cornish ready to send him aid; he ordered up, to lie just below the fort, the three Indiamen of which I have spoken: he strengthened the two batteries commanding the most important passages of the river near Calcutta, and mounted guns on the nascent Fort William. Then, when he had completed all that 'Prudentia' could suggest, the rival goddess, 'Fortuna'¹³ smiled upon him. Just as he was completing his preparations, Colonel Forde and Captain Knox, fresh from the conquest of the Northern Sirkárs, arrived to strengthen his hand. To the former Clive assigned the command of the whole of his available force in the field: to the latter, the charge of the two batteries.

¹³ 'Nullum numen abest si sit Prudentia; nos te, Nos facimus Fortuna, deam.' Juvenal.