The negotiations between the English and the Nabob were carried on chiefly by two agents-Mr. Watts, a servant of the Company, and a Bengalee of the name of Omichund. This Omichund had been one of the wealthiest native merchants resident at Calcutta, and had sustained great losses in consequence of the Nabob's expedition against that place. In the course of his commercial transactions, he had seen much of the English, and was peculiarly qualified to serve as a medium of communica tion between them and a native court. He possessed great influence with his own race, and had in large measure the Hindoo talents

prized that war had commenced in Europe, | and apprehensive of an attack from the French, became impatient for the return of the armament. The promises of the Nabob were large, the chances of a contest doubtful; and Clive consented to treat-though he expressed his regret that things should not be concluded in so glorious a manner as he could have wished. With this negotiation commences a new chapter in the life of Clive. Hitherto he had been merely a soldier, carrying into effect, with eminent ability and valour, the plans of others. Henceforth he is to be chiefly regarded as a statesman; and his military movements are to be considered as subordinate to his political-quick observation, tact, dexterity, persevedesigns. That in his new capacity he dis- rance--and the Hindoo vices-servility, greediplayed great talents, and obtained great suc- ness, and treachery. cess, is undeniable. But it is also undeniable, that the transactions in which he now began to take a part, have left a stain on his moral character.

The Nabob behaved with all the faithlessness of an Indian statesman, and all the levity of a boy whose mind has been enfeebled by power and self-indulgence. He promised, retracted, hesitated, evaded. At one time he advanced with his army in a threatening manner towards Calcutta ; but when he saw the resolute front which the English presented, he fell back in alarm, and consented to make peace with them on their own terms. The treaty was no sooner concluded, than he formed new designs against them. He intrigued with the French authorities at Chandernagore. He invited Bussy to march from the Deccan to the Hoogley, and to drive the English out of Bengal. All this was well known to Clive and Watson. They determined accordingly to strike a decisive blow, and to attack Chandernagore, before the force there could be strengthened by new arrivals, either from the south of India or from Europe. Watson directed the expedition by water, Clive by land. The success of the combined movements was rapid and complete. The fort, the garrison, the artillery, the military stores, all fell into the hands of the English. Nearly five hundred European troops were among the prisoners.

We can by no means agree with Sir John Malcolm, who is obstinately resolved to see nothing but honour and integrity in the conduct of his hero. But we can as little agree with Mr. Mill, who has gone so far as to say that Clive was a man "to whom deception, when it suited his purpose, never cost a pang." Clive seems to us to have been constitutionally the very opposite of a knave-bold even to temerity-sincere even to indiscretion-hearty in friendship-open in enmity. Neither in his private life, nor in those parts of his public life in which he had to do with his countrymen, do we find any signs of a propensity to cunning. On the contrary, in all the disputes in which he was engaged as an Englishman against Englishmen-from his boxing-matches at school to the stormy altercations at the India House and in Parliament, amidst which his latter years were passed-his very faults were those of a high and magnanimous spirit. The truth seems to have been, that he considered Oriental politics as a game in which nothing was unfair. He knew that the standard of The Nabob had feared and hated the Engmorality among the natives of India differed lish, even while he was still able to oppose to widely from that established in England. He them their French rivals. The French were knew that he had to deal with men destitute of now vanquished; and he began to regard the what in Europe is called honour-with men English with still greater fear and still greater who would give any promise without hesita- hatred. His weak and unprincipled mind tion, and break any promise without shame- oscillated between servility and insolence. One with men who would unscrupulously employ day he sent a large sum to Calcutta, as part of corruption, perjury, forgery, to compass their the compensation due for the wrongs which he ends. His letters show that the great differ- had committed. The next day he sent a present ence between Asiatic and European morality of jewels to Bussy, exhorting that distinguished was constantly in his thoughts. He seems officer to hasten to protect Bengal "against to have imagined-most erroneously in our Clive, the daring in war, on whom," says his opinion-that he could effect nothing against highness, “may all bad fortune attend." He such adversaries, if he was content to be bound ordered his army to march against the Eng by ties from which they were free-if he went | lish. He countermanded his orders. He on telling truth, and hearing none--if he ful- tore Clive's letters. He then sent answers in file, to his own hurt, all his engagements the most florid language of compliment. He with confederates who never kept an engage- ordered Watts out of his presence, ana threatmen. that was not to their advantage. Accordingly this man, in all the other parts of his life an honourable English gentleman and soldier, was no sooner matched against an Indian intriguer than he became himself an Indian intriguer; and descended, without scruple, to falsehood, to hypocritical caresses, to the substitution of documents, and to the counterfeiting of hands.

ened to impale him. He again sent for him, and begged pardon for his intemperance. In the mean time, his wretched maladministration, his folly, his dissolute manners, and his love of the lowest company, had disgusted al classes of his subjects-soldiers, traders, civi functionaries, the proud and ostentatious Mohammedans, the timid, supple, and parsimoni

In readiness for passing the river on the mor

row.

The river was passed, and at the close of a toilsome day's march, the army, long after sunset, took up its quarters in a grove of mangotrees near Plassey, within a mile of the enemy. Clive was unable to sleep: he heard, through the whole night, the sounds of drums and cymbals from the vast camp of the Nabob. It is not strange that even his stout heart should now and then have sunk when he reflected against what odds and for what a prize he was in a few hours to contend.

Nor was the rest of Surajah Dowlah more peaceful. His mind, at once weak and stormy, was distracted by wild and horrible apprehensions. Appalled by the greatness and nearness of the crisis, distrusting his captains, dreading every one who approached him, dreading to be left alone, he sate gloomily in his tent, haunted, a Greek poet would have said, by the furies of those who had cursed him with their last breath in the Black Hole.

men, who alone ventured to confront the Eng lish, were swept down the stream of fu gitives. In an hour the forces of Surajan Dowlah were dispersed, never to reassemble Only five hundred of the vanquished were slain. But their camp, their guns, their bag gage, innumerable wagons, innumerable cat tle, remained in the power of the conquerors With the loss of twenty-two soldiers killed, and fifty wounded, Clive had scattered an army of nearly sixty thousand men, and subdued an empire larger and more populous than Great Britain.

Meer Jaffier had given no assistance to the English during the action. But, as soon as he saw that the fate of the day was decided, he drew off his division of the army, and when the battle was over, sent his congratulations to his ally. The next day he repaired to the English quarters, not a little uneasy as to the reception which awaited him there. He gave evident signs of alarm when a guard was drawn out to receive him with the honours due to his rank. But his apprehensions were speedily removed. Clive came forward to meet him, embraced him, saluted him as Nabob of the three great provinces of Bengal, Bahar, and Orissa, listened graciously to his apologies, and advised him to march without delay to Moorshedabad.

The day broke-the day which was to decide the fate of India. At sunrise, the army of the Nabob, pouring through many openings from the camp, began to move towards the grove where the English lay. Forty thousand infantry, armed with firelocks, pikes, swords, bows and arrows, covered the plain. They were accompanied by fifty pieces of ordnance Surajah Dowlah had fled from the field of of the largest size, each tugged by a long team battle with all the speed with which a fleet of white oxen, and each pushed on from be- camel could carry him, and arrived at Moorhind by an elephant. Some smaller guns, un- shedabad in a little more than twenty-four der the direction of a few French auxiliaries, hours. There he called his councillors round were perhaps more formidable. The cavalry him. The wisest advised him to put himself were fifteen thousand, drawn, not from the ef- into the hands of the English, from whom he feminate population of Bengal, but from the had nothing worse to fear than deposition and bolder race which inhabits the northern pro- confinement. But he attributed this suggestion vinces; and the practised eye of Clive could to treachery. Others urged him to try the perceive that both the men and the horses were chance of war again. He approved the admore powerful than those of the Carnatic. The vice, and issued orders accordingly. But he force which he had to oppose to this great multi-wanted spirit to adhere even during one day to tude consisted of only three thousand men. a manly resolution. He learned that Meer But of these nearly a thousand were English, | Jaffier had arrived; and his terrors became in◄ and all were led by English officers, and trained in the English discipline. Conspicuous in the ranks of the little army were the men of the Thirty-Ninth Regiment, which still bears on its colours, amidst many honourable additions won under Wellington in Spain and Gascony, the name of Plassey, and the proud motto, Primus in Indis.

supportable. Disguised in a mean dress, with a casket of jewels in his hand, he let himself down at night from a window of his palace, and, accompanied by only two attendants, embarked on the river for Patna.

In a few days Clive arrived at Moorshedabad, escorted by two hundred English soldiers and three hundred sepoys. For his residence he The battle commenced with a cannonade, in had been assigned a palace, which was surwhich the artillery of the Nabob did scarcely rounded by a garden so spacious, that all the any execution, while the few field pieces of the troops who accompanied him could conve English produced great effect. Several of the niently encamp within it. The ceremony of the most distinguished officers in Surajah Dowlah's installation of Meer Jaffier was instantly perservice fell. Disorder began to spread through formed. Clive led the new Nabob to the sea! his ranks. His own terror increased every of honour, placed him on it, presented to him, moment. One of the conspirators urged on after the immemorial fashion of the East, an him the expediency of retreating. The insidi- offering of gold, and then, turning to the naous advice, agreeing as it did with what his tives who filled the hall, congratulated them on own terrors suggested, was readily received. the good fortune which had freed them from He ordered the army to fall back, and this or- tyrant. He was compelled on this occasion to der decided his fate. Clive snatched the mo- use the services of an interpreter; for it is re ment, and ordered his troops to advance. Themarkable that, long as he resided in India, inticonfused and dispirited multitude gave way mately acquainted as he was with the Indian before the onset of disciplined valour. No politics and the Indian character, and adored mob attacked by regular soldiers was ever more as he was by his Indian soldiery, he never completely routed. The little band of French-learned to express himself with facility in any Vor. III.-42

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Indian language; and is said to have been sometimes under the necessity of employing the smattering of Portuguese which he had acquired, when a lad, in Brazil.

still fewer objections, and that for this reason, that the life of societies is longer than the life of individuals. It is possible to mention men who have owed great worldly prosperity to The new sovereign was now called upon to breaches of private faith. But we doubt whe fulfil the engagements into which he had entered ther it be possible to mention a state which has with his allies. A conference was held at the on the whole been a gainer by a breach of pub house of Jugget Seit, the great banker, for the lic faith. The entire history of British India purpose of making the necessary arrange- is an illustration of this great truth, that it is ments. Omichund came thither, fully believ- not prudent to oppose perfidy to perfidy—that ing himself to stand high in the favour of the most efficient weapon with which men can Clive, who, with dissimulation surpassing encounter falsehood is truth. During a long even the dissimulation of Bengal, had up to course of years, the English rulers of India, that day treated him with undiminished kind- surrounded by allies and enemies whom no ness. The white treaty was produced and engagements could bind, have generally acted read. Clive then turned to Mr. Scrafton, one with sincerity and uprightness; and the event of the servants of the Company, and said in has proved that sincerity and uprightness are English, "It is now time to undeceive Omi- wisdom. English valour and English intelli. chund." "Omichund," said Mr. Scrafton in gence have done less to extend and to preserve Hindostanee, "the red treaty is a take-in. You our Oriental empire than English veracity. are to have nothing." Omichund fell back in- All that we could have gained by imitating the sensible into the arms of his attendants. He doublings, the evasions, the fictions, the per revived; but his mind was irreparably ruined. juries which have been employed against us, Clive, who, though unscrupulous in his deal- is as nothing, when compared with what we ings with Indian politicians, was not inhuman, have gained by being the one power in India seems to have been touched. He saw Omi- on whose word reliance can be placed. No chund a few days later, spoke to him kindly, oath which superstition can devise, no hostage advised him to make a pilgrimage to one of the however precious, inspires a hundredth part great temples of India, in the hope that change of the confidence which is produced by the of scene might restore his health, and was yea, yea," and "nay, nay," of a British envoy. even disposed, notwithstanding all that had No fastness, however strong by art or nature, passed, again to employ his talents in the pub- gives to its inmates a security like that en lic service. But from the moment of that sud- joyed by the chief who, passing through the den shock, the unhappy man sank gradually territories of powerful and deadly enemies, is into idiocy. He who had formerly been dis- armed with the British guarantee. The might tinguished by the strength of his understand-iest princes of the East can scarcely, by the ing, and the simplicity of his habits, now squandered the remains of his fortune on childsh trinkets, and loved to exhibit himself dressed in rich garments, and hung with precious stones. In this abject state he languished a few months, and then died.

We should not think it necessary to offer any remarks for the purpose of directing the judgment of our readers with respect to this transaction, had not Sir John Malcolm undertaken to defend it in all its parts. He regrets, indeed, that it was necessary to employ means so liable to abuse as forgery; but he will not admit that any blame attaches to those who deceived the deceiver. He thinks that the English were not bound to keep faith with one who kept no faith with them; and that, if they had fulfilled their engagen ents with the wily Bengalee, so signal an example of successful treason would have produced a crowd of imitators. Now, we will not discuss this point on any rigid principles of morality. Indeed, it is quite unnecessary to do so; for, looking at the question as a question of expediency in the lowest sense of the word, and using no arguments but such as Machiavelli might have employed in his conference with Borgia, we are convinced that Clive was altogether in the wrong, and that he committed, not merely a crime, but a blunder. That honesty is the best policy, is a maxim which we firmly believe to be generally correct, even with respect to the temporal interest of individuals; but with respect to societies, the rule is subjec: to

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offer of enormous usury, draw forth any por tion of the wealth which is concealed under the hearths of their subjects. The British go vernment offers little more than four per cent, and avarice hastens to bring forth tens of mi lions of rupees from its most secret repositories. A hostile monarch may promise mountains of gold to our sepoys, on condition that they will desert the standard of the Company. The Company promises only a moderate pension after a long service. But every sepoy knows that the promise of the Company will be kept; he knows that if he lives a hundred years his rice and salt are as secure as the salary of the Governor-General; and he knows that there is not another state in India which would not, in spite of the most solemn vows, leave him to die of hunger in a ditch as soon as he had ceased to be useful. The greatest advantage which a government can possess, is to be the one trustworthy government in the midst of governments which nobody can trust. This advantage we enjoy in Asia. Had we acted during the last two generations on the princi ples which Sir John Malcolm appears to have considered as sound-had we, as often as we had to deal with people like Omichund, reta liated by lying and forging, and breaking faith, after their fashion-it is our firm belief that no courage or capacity could have upheld our empire.

Sir John Malcom admits that Clive's breach of faith could be justified only by the strongest necessity. As we think that breach of faith

Omichund was not the only victim of the revolution. Surajah Dowlah was taken a few days after his flight, and was brought before Meer Jaffier. There he flung himself on the ground in convulsions of fear, and with tears and loud cries implored the mercy which he had never shown. Meer Jaffier hesitated; but his son Meeran, a youth of seventeen, who in feebleness of brain and savageness of nature greatly resembled the wretched captive, was implacable. Surajah Dowlah was led into a secret chamber, to which in a short time the ministers of death were sent. In this act the English bore no part; and Meer Jaffier underderstood so much of their feelings, that he thought it necessary to apologize to them for having avenged them on their most malignant enemy.

not only unnecessary, but most inexpedient, | ought to be the servant of his own government, we need hardly say that we condemn it most and of no other. It follows, that whatever re. severely. wards he receives for his services ought to be given either by his own government, or with the full knowledge and approbation of his own government. This rule ought to be strictly maintained even with respect to the merest bauble-with respect to a cross a medal, or a yard of coloured riband. But how can any government be well served, if those who com mand its forces are at liberty, without its permission, without its privity, to accept princely fortunes from its allies? It is idle to say that there was then no act of Parliament prohibiting the practice of taking presents from Asiatic sovereigns. It is not on the act which was passed at a later period for the purpose of preventing any such taking of presents, but on grounds which were valid before that act was passed-on grounds of common law and common sense that we arraign the conduct of Clive. There is no act that we know of, pro hibiting the Secretary of State for Foreign Af fairs being in the pay of continental powers. But it is not the less true that a secretary who should receive a secret pension from France, would grossly violate his duty, and would deserve severe punishment. Sir John Malcolm compares the conduct of Clive with that of the Duke of Wellington. Suppose-and we beg pardon for putting such a supposition even for the sake of argument-that the Duke of Wellington had, after the campaign of 1815, and while he commanded the army of occupation in France, privately accepted two hundred thousand pounds from Louis the Eighteenth as a mark of gratitude for the great services which his grace had rendered to the house of Bourbon-what would be thought of such a transaction? Yet the statute-book no more forbids the taking of presents in Europe now, than it forbade the taking of presents in Asia then.

The shower of wealth now fell copiously on the Company and its servants. A sum of eight hundred thousand pounds sterling, in coined silver, was sent down the river from Moorshedabad to Fort William. The fleet which conveyed this treasure consisted of more than a hundred boats, and performed its triumphal voyage with flags flying and music playing. Calcutta, which but a few months ago had been so desolate, was now more prosperous than ever. Trade revived; and the signs of affluence appeared in every English house. As to Clive, there was no limit to his acquisitions but his own moderation. The treasury of Bengal was thrown open to him. There were piled up, after the usage of Indian princes, immense masses of coin, among which might not seldom be detected the florins and byzants with which, before any European ship had turned the Cape of Good Hope, the Venetians purchased the stuffs and spices of the East. Clive walked between heaps of gold and silver, crowned with rubies and diamonds, and was at liberty to help himself. He accepted between two and three hundred thousand pounds.

At the same time it must be admitted, that in Clive's case there were many extenuating circumstances. He considered himself as the general, not of the crown, but of the Company. The pecuniary transactions between Meer The Company had, by implication at least, Jather and Clive were sixteen years later con-authorized its agents to enrich themselves by demned by the public voice and severely criti- means of the liberality of the native princes, cised in Parliament. They are vehemently and by other means still more objectionable. defended by Sir John Malcolm. The accusers It was hardly to be expected that the servant of the victorious general represented his gains should entertain stricter notions of his duty as the wages of corruption, or as plunder ex- than were entertained by his masters. Though torted at the point of the sword from a helpless Clive did not distinctly acquaint his employers ally. The biographer, on the other hand, con- with what had taken place, and request their siders these great acquisitions as free gifts, sanction, he did not, on the other hand, by stu honourable alike to the donor and the receiver, died concealment, show that he was conscious and compares them to the rewards bestowed of having done wrong. On the contrary, he by foreign powers on Marlborough, on Nelson, avowed with the greatest openness that the and on Wellington. It had always, he says, Nabob's bounty had raised him to affluence. been customary in the East to give and receive Lastly, though we think that he ought not in presents; and there was, as yet, no act of Par- such a way to have taken any thing, we must liament positively prohibiting English func- admit that he deserves praise for having taken tionaries in India from profiting by this Asiatic so little. He accepted twenty lacs of rupees. usage. This reasoning, we own, does not quite It would have cost him only a word to make satisfy us. We fully acquit Clive of selling the twenty forty. It was a very easy exercise the interest of his employers or his country; of virtue to declaim in England against Clive's but we cannot acquit him of having done what, rapacity; but not one in a hundred of his ac if not in itself evil, was yet of evil example. cusers would have shown so much self-com Nothing is more clear than that a general mand in the treasury of Moorshedabad