Chapter I (3)

But it was in the execution of the plan already noticed, of interrupting the intercourse between Seringham and Pondicherry, that Clive found the opportunity of exhibiting those powers of combination, self-possession, and intrepidity that were so conspicuous in his character. He suggested, as has been before stated, this bold operation to Major Lawrence, with whom he lived on terms of the strictest intimacy; and the latter, in adopting a plan which a contemporary historian describes "as risking the whole to gain the whole," trusted entirely for its success to the enterprise and judgment of his young friend: but Clive was the junior captain of his force, and it was not easy to appoint him to such an important command over the heads of so many officers, some of whom had acquired a just reputation. The difficulty Major Lawrence apprehended on this head was, however, soon put an end to by the open declaration of the allies, that they would not detach the portions of their troops necessary to form this corps under any other but him who had defended Arcot.

The force with which Clive marched[56] from Trichinopoly consisted of four hundred Europeans, seven hundred sepoys, three thousand Mahratta, and one thousand Tanjore horse, with eight pieces of artillery, two of which were battering guns. He passed the Coleroon before daylight, and occupied a pagoda called Samiaveram, seven miles north of that river, and on the high road betwixt Seringham and Utatore, a post of the French on their line of communication with Pondicherry. His first care was to strengthen this position, and to plant cannon so as to command the road both to the north and south.

Dupleix, on learning the situation of affairs at Trichinopoly, had detached a party of seven hundred men under Monsieur D'Autueil, who had orders to proceed to Seringham and take the command from M. Law, with whose conduct the French governor was much dissatisfied. The utmost importance was attached to intercepting this body of men; and Clive, on learning their arrival at Utatore, and that it was D'Autueil's intention to attempt the junction by a circuitous route, marched to oppose him, leaving a small part of his force to guard his post at Semiaveram; but on finding that D'Autueil, alarmed at his approach, had hastened back to Utatore, he lost no time in returning. M. Law, who heard of his leaving his post, but not of his return, detached[57], as soon as it was dark, a corps of eighty Europeans, and seven hundred sepoys, to attack the few troops he imagined to be remaining at Samiaveram. Of these men forty were English deserters. The extraordinary events which followed cannot be better related than in the words of the historian[58] to whom we have so often referred.

"The party arrived near the camp at midnight, when one of their spies informed the commanding officer, that the troops which had marched against M. D'Autueil had returned; but he, imputing the information either to cowardice or treachery, gave no credit to the spy, and proceeded; they were challenged by the advanced guard of English sepoys, on which the officer of the deserters, an Irishman, stept out and told them, that he was sent by Major Lawrence to reinforce Captain Clive: and the rest of the deserters, speaking English likewise, confirmed the assertion, and persuaded the sepoys so fully, that they omitted the usual precaution of asking the counter-word, which would certainly have discovered the stratagem, and sent one of their body to conduct the enemy to the head-quarters. They continued their march through a part of the Mahratta camp, without giving or receiving any disturbance, until they came to the lesser pagoda. Here they were challenged by the sentinels, and by others posted in a neighbouring choultry to the north of it, in which Captain Clive lay asleep. They returned the challenge by a volley into each place, and immediately entered the pagoda, putting all they met to the sword. Captain Clive, starting out of his sleep, and not conceiving it possible that the enemy could have advanced into the centre of his camp, imputed the firing to his own sepoys alarmed by some attack at the outskirts; he, however, ran to the upper pagoda, where the greatest part of his Europeans were quartered, who, having likewise taken the alarm, were under arms; and he immediately returned with two hundred of them to the choultry. Here he now discovered a large body of sepoys drawn up, facing the south, and firing at random. Their position, which looked to the enemy's encampment, joined to their confusion, confirmed him in his conjecture, that they were his own troops who had taken some unnecessary alarm. In this supposition, he drew up his Europeans within twenty yards of their rear, and then, going alone amongst them, ordered them to cease, upbraiding some with the panic he supposed them to have taken, and even striking others: at length, one of the sepoys, who understood a little of the French language, discovering that he was an Englishman, attacked and wounded him in two places with his sword; but, finding himself overpowered, ran away to the lower pagoda. Captain Clive, exasperated at this insolence from a man whom he imagined to be in his own service, followed him to the gate, where, to his great surprise, he was accosted by six Frenchmen. His usual presence of mind did not fail him on this critical occasion, but, suggesting to him all that had happened, he told the Frenchmen with great composure, that he was come to offer them terms, and if they would look out they would perceive the pagoda surrounded with his whole army, who were determined to give no quarter if any resistance were made. The firmness with which these words were delivered made such an impression, that three of the Frenchmen ran into the pagoda to carry this intelligence, whilst the other three surrendered their arms to Captain Clive, and followed him towards the choultry, whither he hastened, intending to order the Europeans to attack the body of sepoys, whom he now first knew to be his enemies; but these had already discovered the danger of their situation, and had marched out of the reach of the Europeans, who, imagining that they did this in obedience to Captain Clive's orders, made no motion to interrupt or attack them. Soon after, eight Frenchmen, who had been sent from the pagoda to reconnoitre, fell in with the English troops and were made prisoners; and these, with the other three whom Captain Clive had taken, were delivered to the charge of a serjeant's party, who, not knowing, in the time of darkness and confusion, that the enemy were in possession of the lower pagoda, carried them thither, and, on delivering them to the guard, found out their error; but such was also the confusion of the French in the pagoda, that they suffered the serjeant and his party to return unmolested. The rest of the English troops had now joined the others, and Captain Clive, imagining that the enemy would never have attempted so desperate an enterprise without supporting it with their whole army, deemed it absolutely necessary to storm the pagoda, before the troops who were in it could receive any assistance. One of the two folding-doors of the gateway had for some time been taken down to be repaired, and the other was strongly stapled down, so that the remaining part of the entrance would admit only two men abreast. The English soldiers made the attack, and continued it for some time with great resolution; but the deserters within fought desperately, and killed an officer and fifteen men, on which the attack was ordered to cease till daybreak; and, in the mean time, such a disposition was made as might prevent those in the pagoda from escaping, and at the same time oppose any other body which might come to their relief. At daybreak the commanding officer of the French, seeing the danger of his situation, made a sally at the head of his men, who received so heavy a fire, that he himself, with twelve others who first came out of the gateway, were killed by the volley; on which the rest ran back to the pagoda. Captain Clive then advanced into the porch of the gate, to parley with the enemy; and, being weak with the loss of blood and fatigue, stood with his back to the wall of the porch, and leaned, stooping forward, on the shoulders of two serjeants. The officer of the English deserters presented himself with great insolence, and, telling Captain Clive, with abusive language, that he would shoot him, fired his musket. The ball missed him, but went through the bodies of both the serjeants on whom he was leaning, and they both fell mortally[59] wounded. The Frenchmen had hitherto defended the pagoda, in compliance with the English deserters; but, thinking it necessary to disavow such an outrage, which might exclude them from any pretensions to quarter, their officer immediately surrendered. By this time, the body of the enemy's sepoys had passed out of the camp, with as little interruption as they had entered it: but orders having been sent to the Mahrattas to pursue them, Innis-Khan, with all his men, mounted at daybreak, and came up with them in the open plain, before they gained the bank of the Coleroon. The sepoys no sooner perceived them, than they flung away their arms, and attempted to save themselves by dispersing; but the Mahrattas, who never figure so much as in these cruel exploits, exerted themselves with such activity, that, according to their own report, not a single man of seven hundred escaped alive: it is certain that none ever appeared to contradict this assertion. Besides the escapes already mentioned, Captain Clive had another which was not discovered until the hurry of the day was over, when it was found that the volley, which the enemy fired into the choultry where he was sleeping, had shattered a box that lay under his feet, and killed a servant who lay close to him."

The mistakes of the night at Samiaveram were of a character more likely to be created by the imagination of a dramatic poet, to give incident and spirit to the sudden change of scene and action, than to take place in real military operations; but no occurrence of his life called forth in a more remarkable degree that quickness of perception and that calm self-possession for which Clive was distinguished.

Major Lawrence, not wishing to hazard again the important post of Samiaveram, sent a party of four hundred sepoys, five hundred Mahratta horse, and four field-pieces, under Captain Dalton, to watch the movements of Monsieur d'Autueil, who still remained at Utatore. The French outposts were driven back in the dusk of the evening; and the English, having been divided into two bodies, moved on the flanks of the line with the hopes of deceiving them into a belief that it was the whole of Clive's force which had come to assail them. The stratagem succeeded. D'Autueil not only drew his troops within the walls of the village, but evacuated it next morning, and retreated to Volcondah, leaving to Captain Dalton's corps the ammunition and supplies he had brought for the troops at Seringham. M. Law, who observed from the top of the pagoda at Seringham the movement of Captain Dalton's detachment, mistook it for that of Clive, and marched upon Samiaveram; but when he found the whole body of the English stationed there drawn up to receive him, he fell back on his position.

The detachment from Trichinopoly had received orders to return, but a sudden swelling of the Coleroon rendered that impracticable. Clive determined to take advantage of the state of the river to attack the French post of Pitchandah, on its northern bank, which M. Law could not now succour. Captain Dalton, being informed of his resolution, and not wishing to interfere with his command, immediately placed his corps under Clive's orders, and requested to be employed as a volunteer![60] A higher testimony to acknowledged superiority of character cannot be adduced than this temporary resignation of the claims of senior rank by a gallant and able officer, and that at the very moment when he was flushed with the success of the service on which he had been detached.

The camp of Chunda Sahib, near Seringham, was on the south bank of the Coleroon, opposite to Pitchandah. Clive, in order to annoy the enemy and to cover his operations against that place, converted into a six-gun battery a high mound on the north bank of the river, which had been raised to prevent its encroachment on the low land.[61] This mound completely commanded the enemy's camp[62], and was at the same time protected from the guns at Pitchandah. The disorder created by the opening of this battery was great; men, women, children, elephants, camels, horses, and bullocks were instantly seen in disordered flight from this unexpected danger, hastening to the banks of the river, which they were, however, forced to quit by the guns of Trichinopoly, and at last found shelter by forming an encampment out of reach of the English cannon, and at some distance from the pagoda of Seringham.

This operation upon the most defenceless part of the enemy's force probably produced more effect upon the minds of the allies of the French, than any of the more substantial successes of the war. The native armies of India are kept together by very loose ties: the strongest of these are the expectations which princes can hold out, to the chiefs that serve them, of future pay and reward--as these diminish or increase, their attachment ebbs or flows; but they seldom despair of a cause, till reverses so materially affect the safety of their numerous armed and unarmed followers, that they can no longer keep them together. The feelings of the latter have an extraordinary influence upon success; for as the chief receives little, if any, pay from the prince, he must support himself by loans from bankers and merchants residing in his camp, while his soldiers owe the food by which they are supported to the credit given them by the dealers in the bazaar. This reciprocal expectation and confidence is seldom shaken by any danger that is not close at hand. The bulk of the soldiers and camp followers are amused or deceived by false or exaggerated reports; but the incontrovertible proof which an attack like that of Clive gave, of their prince and his allies not being able to protect them, spread alarm through all ranks; and that alarm was soon rendered irremediable by the fall of Pitchandah.

The death of Chunda Sahib, the surrender of the French troops, and the dissensions to which these events gave rise between Mahommed Ali and his allies have already been recorded. Dupleix, who never desponded, seeing in these dissensions the means of retrieving the interests of his nation, fomented them by every means in his power; and his intrigues to gain the Mysorians and the Mahrattas were powerfully aided by his lady, who, born in India, and understanding not only the languages but the character of the natives, is stated to have been on this occasion, as on various others, of the greatest use to her ambitious husband.

The Regent of Mysore was promised Trichinopoly, and the Mahrattas plunder and money. Both had secretly entered into engagements, which they were encouraged to avow by the complete failure of an expedition[63] which the governor and committee of Fort St. David sent to attack Gingee, contrary to the expressed opinion of Major Lawrence. Fortunately, however, the presumption of Dupleix gave that able officer an opportunity of correcting the bad impression which had been thus made, by completely defeating a French force[64] (1752), under Monsieur Kirjean, a nephew of the governor, who had been compelled against his better judgment, by the orders of his too ardent uncle, to hazard this engagement. The Mahrattas, on the occurrence of this success, declared their continued adherence to the cause of Mahommed Ali, and were employed with Major Lawrence in reducing the country near Pondicherry. To aid this operation, a detachment was required to attack the forts of Chingliput and Covelong; but there were no troops to form it, except two hundred European recruits just landed at Madras, who are represented as being the very refuse of the jails of London, and five hundred newly raised sepoys. These men had neither character nor discipline, and seemed so little calculated to take forts, that no officer could be expected to risk his reputation at their head:--but Clive, though in a state of very impaired health,--the consequence of his former fatigues,--volunteered to accept this unpromising command, and marched with his small and ill-composed detachment, and four twenty-four pounders, to attack Covelong[65], a square fort, which, though it had no ditch, mounted thirty pieces of cannon, and was defended by fifty Europeans and three hundred sepoys.

A party having been sent in advance under Lieutenant Cooper, to take up a position in a garden six hundred yards from the fort, were attacked by the enemy: they stood for a short time, but, on Lieutenant Cooper being shot, were so dismayed that they fled with precipitation, and were with difficulty prevented by Clive from continuing their flight to Madras. The garden was retaken, a battery constructed, and a post formed on its left, near a large rock. The fire of the enemy, however, so disconcerted Clive's party, that they seemed prepared to fly at every alarm[66]: a shot which struck the rock, and with its splinters killed and wounded fourteen, so frightened the whole, that it was some time before they would again venture to expose themselves; and one of the advanced sentries was found, several hours afterwards, concealed in the bottom of a well!

Clive, wisely judging that shame would operate more powerfully than severity in reclaiming his men from such cowardice, exposed himself to the hottest of the enemy's fire, and his example brought them in a very few days to tolerable firmness; while their confidence in themselves and their leader was increased by the surrender of the fort, and still more by subsequent events.

The morning after Covelong was taken, Ensign Joseph Smith (a name destined to fill a large space in the future wars of Coromandel) discovered a large body of men advancing, which he justly considered to be a detachment from Chingliput to relieve Covelong. He communicated what he had seen to Clive, who, taking every precaution to prevent this corps from learning that the fort had fallen, laid an ambuscade on their route, and the concealed troops (so close and so well directed was their fire) killed one hundred men at the first volley:--many threw down their arms and fled, while the commanding officer of the corps, twenty-five Europeans, and two hundred and fifty sepoys, with two pieces of cannon, were taken.

The news of this disaster soon reached Chingliput[67] (1752). Clive was there almost as soon, and, knowing well the influence of the impression his success had made, he immediately advanced his battery from a distance of five hundred yards, where it was first constructed, to within two hundred of the outer wall, which he soon breached as well as the inner: but there was still the ditch to be filled; for this fort, strong in some parts by the impracticability[68] of approach, had been fortified with great care in others; and Clive, now confident in his men, determined on an assault. The French commandant, observing his preparations, offered to capitulate on the garrison being permitted to retire with the honours of war; terms which Clive very readily granted, as the place, if obstinately defended, still possessed means of formidable resistance.

It would be difficult to find an example, in any regular army, of one so young and of such a subordinate rank as Clive, having crowded into the short space of two years such a series of successful enterprises. He was not more than twenty-seven years of age, and had only within the last year been promoted to the rank of Captain. After being distinguished on several occasions by the most resolute valour, he had displayed at Arcot, and during the operations which followed that memorable siege, all the superior qualities of a military leader. In the wisdom with which he planned, and the ability and gallantry with which he executed, those operations which so materially contributed to the defeat and capture of the French at Seringham, he evinced a calmness of courage, a clearness of judgment, and a decision of spirit, which gave confidence to his own force, and struck terror into that of the enemy: and in his last expedition against Covelong and Chingliput he showed, that where real military talent exists in the leader, there is no description of troops with which he may not command success: he can frame the machine at the moment to his purpose, while the ordinary man of routine can only employ it when prepared to his hands. Some writers, seemingly desirous of detracting from the character which Clive thus early established, would insinuate that no marked superiority of talent was exhibited in these events, and have grounded their opinion on the comparative smallness of the numbers of regular troops, and the composition of the other parts of the forces engaged in these contests; but, with those who are qualified, by experience, to decide on this subject, and who can appreciate the difficulties these very circumstances created, Clive's reputation will rise in proportion to the smallness and unconnected nature of those means with which, at this early stage of his life, he accomplished objects so important to his country. It is not in the use of ordinary means that genius appears to most advantage: it has its amplest range, and its noblest triumph, where it labours amidst new and untried objects, and converts them to purposes for which they had always before been judged incompetent. And no commander of modern times saw more clearly, seized more powerfully, or used more successfully, than Clive, the various and often discordant materials placed within his reach. Even at this early period of his career, he diffused his own spirit around him. The troops under his direction, however dispirited before, believed that they were destined to victory and glory: and that victory and glory did invariably attend them, was owing to his genius alone.

FOOTNOTES:

[37] Orme vol. i. p. 171.

[38] _Biog. Brit._ art. CLIVE, p. 649.

[39] Orme, vol. i. p. 173.

[40] Captain Gingen had on this occasion recourse to a council of war, whose hesitation spread alarm among the troops. Orme, vol. i. p. 180.

[41] The island of Seringham lies between the Coleroon and Caveri. It is famous for the pagoda from which it derives its name.

[42] Orme.

[43] Orme, vol. i. p. 183-196.

[44] This water is called Canjee, and contains a sufficient infusion of the grain to be nutritive, resembling thin gruel.

[45] Orme, vol. i. p. 196.

[46] Id. ibid., p. 199.

[47] Besides the unwarrantable threat of exposing their prisoners, Orme (vol. i. p. 199.) states, that, though they gave quarter to the two officers, Revel and Glass, they had murdered in their litters five or six disabled soldiers, whom they took when on their route from Arcot to Fort St. David.

[48] Orme, vol. i. p. 206.

[49] He commenced his march, February 22. 1752.

[50] Clive, on his return to Fort St. David, marched by the new buildings of a town on the site where Nasir Jung was slain, to which the name of Dupleix-Fatiha Bad (or "the town of victory") had been given. A pompous pillar was in preparation to commemorate, in every eastern language, an event which the French deemed a great victory. Clive and his troops, viewing this transaction in a very different light, razed to the ground these monuments of pride.

[51] Clive was, at this period, only twenty-six years of age.

[52] Colonel Lawrence's Narrative, p. 14.

[53] When the affairs of Chunda Sahib became desperate, and he could no longer support his followers, the leaders of the parties of whom his army was composed, solicited permission to leave him, and this request was readily granted by that ill-fated prince, who told them they had only anticipated his wish, as he was no longer able to support them, but at the same time solemnly promised to liquidate their large arrears, should fortune ever again smile upon him.

[54] Orme, vol. i. p. 245.

[55] Id., ibid.

[56] April 6th, 1752.

[57] April 14th, 1752.

[58] Orme, vol. i. p. 223.

[59] On this incident, Mr. Beaufoy has the following note:--"As it may, perhaps, be difficult to conceive how one shot should destroy his two supporters and leave him unhurt, Mr. Archdeacon Clive mentioned this difficulty to Lord Clive, who answered, that the two men on whose shoulders he leaned were shorter than himself, and were both of them in the line of the shot, his own body being so much behind as to be out of the line." _Biog. Brit._ art. CLIVE, p. 650. note.

[60] Captain Dalton was wounded in the subsequent operations against Pitchandah.

[61] April 15th, 1752.

[62] The composition of the camp he cannonaded is well described by Orme. "Every common soldier," he observes, "in an Indian army is accompanied either by a wife or a concubine; the officers have several, and the generals whole seraglios. Besides these, the army is incumbered by a number of attendants and servants, exceeding that of the fighting men; and to supply the various wants of this enervated multitude, dealers, pedlars, and retailers of all sorts follow the camp; to whom a separate quarter is allowed, in which they daily exhibit their different commodities in greater quantities, and with more regularity, than in any fair in Europe, all of them sitting on the ground in a line, with their merchandise exposed before them, and sheltered from the sun by a mat supported by sticks."--Orme, vol i. p. 228.

[63] This expedition was commanded by Major Kinneir.

[64] Orme, vol. i. p. 256.

[65] This fort is situated twenty miles south of Madras.

[66] Orme, vol. i. p. 263.

[67] This fort is forty miles south-west of Covelong.

[68] It is completely defended on one face by a lake, and on another by a swamp covered with rice fields.

CHAP. III.

Clive's health was completely broken by the fatigues he had undergone; and, as there appeared no prospect of immediate service, he determined to visit England, where the fame of his military achievements had preceded him. His father, Mr. Richard Clive, in a letter dated December 15. 1752, observes, "I was at Sir Philip Chetwood's, our neighbour in the country, when I received your welcome letter, which gave me joy not to be expressed. Since then, now I am come to London, the pleasure is repeated by the applause every one gives to your gallant actions and behaviour, and the success that hath attended you; and you are compared to no less than some of those brave generals who are gone, but left their names upon record to their glory and honour. The directors of the Company you have so faithfully served, I hear, at a public entertainment drank your health by the name of General Clive, and are pleased to say they are under great obligations to you. I waited on the three principal directors last week, in order to find out, if I could, what they proposed for you, but perceive they are desirous to have the account the next ships bring, before they give me any positive answer, other than a general one, that they are very desirous to do you any service in their power. Your friends, among which is one of the principal directors, and my intimate acquaintance, advise that you should not leave Madras before you know how the directors propose to reward you: but this will be for your own determination, who can best judge, in the situation we are in, what is most proper to be done. You may be sure your mother and myself shall think the time long till we see you."

From his mother, Clive received at the same time one of those letters which are so precious to him who unites a disposition to cherish family ties with a devotion to his country. It would be injustice to this high-minded lady to omit a word of the sentiments she expressed on this occasion, and which showed her to be every way worthy of her son. I therefore transcribe the whole letter:--

"Dear Son,

"I cannot express the joy yours to your father gave to me. Your
brave conduct, and success which Providence has blessed you
with, is the talk and wonder of the public, the great joy and
satisfaction of your friends; but more particularly so to me, as
it gives me hopes of seeing you much sooner than I could possibly
have expected. I find some of your friends wish your longer stay
in India; but I earnestly entreat you will let no motive induce
you, except your honour and the peace of the country require it.
Your relations are all well: four of your sisters are with me; the
youngest and your two brothers are at school: your cousin Ben has
no employ; he is only on half-pay as a lieutenant, lives with his
father, and, I believe, wishes himself with you. We are removed
to a large house in Swithin's Lane, near the post house, and hope
to see you in it. May a kind Providence attend and bless you, and
bring you safe to your native country, is the most sincere wish and
prayer of

"Your ever affectionate mother,
(Signed) "REB. CLIVE."
"London, 16th Dec., 1752."

The state of Clive's health having compelled him to return to England, he embarked at Madras in February, 1753, immediately after his marriage to Miss Margaret Maskelyne; a marriage to which he owed much of the comfort and happiness of his future life. This lady, the daughter of Edmund Maskelyne, Esq., of Purton in Wiltshire, and sister of his friend Edmund Maskelyne, and of the celebrated Dr. Nevil Maskelyne, afterwards Astronomer Royal, was possessed of both beauty and accomplishments. His attachment to her appears from many letters to have been very great. She continued throughout his life to enjoy his affection and regard, and survived him many years.

In the course of the same year he landed in England, after an absence of about ten years. His reception was most flattering. He was warmly welcomed by his parents and many near relations: the Court of Directors voted him a sword set with diamonds of the value of five hundred pounds, "as a token of their esteem, and of their sense of his singular services to the Company on the coast of Coromandel[69];" and in society he was honoured with those elevating marks of regard, which always attend a fortunate soldier. Though but a short time in his native country, he appears to have imbibed, or rather renewed, an attachment to it, and to have formed friendships and connections, which left him without any tie in India, but the fulfilment of the public duties he had to perform in that country, and the acquirement of sufficient fortune to maintain himself and family.

He had not enjoyed himself two years in England, when the state of affairs in India made the Court of Directors anxious for his presence in that country. He was appointed Governor of Fort St. David, with a provisional commission to succeed to the government of Madras; and the appointment was accompanied with the expression of their anxious desire that he should return as soon as possible to a country in which they deemed his services of the greatest importance. To obviate the quarrels about rank between the King's and Company's officers, which had often been attended with much obstruction to the service, the Directors applied to His Majesty's government, and obtained for him the commission of Lieutenant-Colonel in the British army; a very honourable distinction, as he was then but a young man, and only a Captain in their service.

He left England in 1755; but, instead of sailing direct to his new government, he proceeded to Bombay, where he landed on the 27th of November, with three companies of Royal Artillery and three hundred infantry, destined to form, in conjunction with the Mahrattas, part of a force for the attack of the French and their allies in the Deckan. When the project was first formed, it had been intended that he should command this force; and he was at the time the only man in the service from whose knowledge and experience success in such a scheme could reasonably have been anticipated. But we have on this occasion an early instance of the character of that interference of the King's government, which, when dictated by narrow considerations of patronage, must defeat every measure it proposes to promote. Colonel Scott, who had sailed for India the preceding year, in the quality of Engineer-General, was, at the powerful recommendation of the Duke of Cumberland, nominated to the command of this expedition. Nevertheless, the Directors wished Clive to proceed to Bombay, in the hope that some event might occur to defeat an appointment in which they had found themselves compelled to concur. It so happened, that Colonel Scott died before the troops arrived: but a provisional treaty had been entered into[70] between Mr. Saunders, the Governor of Madras, and Mr. Godeheu, the Governor of Pondicherry, by which, among other articles, it had been agreed, that neither the French nor English companies should take part in any differences arising between the princes of the country. In consequence of this convention, the government of Bombay refused to adopt any proceeding that could disturb the general peace of India; so that Clive lost the opportunity of opposing the celebrated Bussy on the plains of the Deckan.

Admiral Watson was lying at Bombay when Clive arrived; and the opportunity was thought excellent for employing the means which accident had left disposable, to punish the pirate Angria by the attack of Gheriah[71], one of his strongholds, which lies a little more than two degrees south of Bombay, and which derived its strength from the reputed courage of its defenders, and from its site upon a rocky promontory almost surrounded by the sea.

The expedition against Gheriah was undertaken in concert with the Mahrattas; but suspicions being entertained that the latter were in communication with Angria, operations were precipitated so as to preclude them from all share in the enterprise. The Admiral having attacked and burnt the fleet of the pirate, Clive interposed his force on the land side between the fort and the Mahratta general, who had hastened to co-operate. The place soon fell[72], and the booty (about ten lacs of rupees) was divided by the British forces, without admitting their allies to any participation. This had been settled before the expedition left Bombay, as well as the respective shares of prize-money to the officers and men. It is remarkable what attention was given at this time in India, even before operations were commenced, to adjust the relative claims to eventual booty. Councils of war were held, at which very junior officers aided, and arguments were entered into by the respective parties. The causes of this were various. Besides that spirit of plunder, and that passion for the rapid accumulation of wealth, which actuated all ranks, the undefined relations of the King's and Company's officers made such previous arrangements indispensable, to prevent those disputes, which, but for such precautions, must subsequently have occurred.

It is pleasing on this occasion to record the conduct of both the naval and military commanders. The naval officers, who formed the majority, had decreed that Lieutenant-Colonel Clive, though he commanded the land force, should only share in his army rank with a post-captain in the navy. The officers of the troops claimed for their commander an equal share with Rear-Admiral Pocock, the second in command in the navy. This pretension was stated by Clive to Admiral Watson. The latter, as jealous a defender of what he deemed the rights of the service to which he belonged, as he was careless of his own personal interest, rejected the claim, but told Clive he would make up from his own share the difference between the colonel's and that of Admiral Pocock. Nor was this mere profession. When the prize-money was paid, he sent the difference he had promised, but it was declined. Clive said his sole object had been to satisfy the troops that he had supported the rights of their commander: they had been pleased with the admiral's conduct, and he would "never enrich himself with money taken from Mr. Watson's personal share of the capture."[73]

As nothing further remained to be done on the western coast, Clive proceeded to Fort St. David[74], of which he took charge on the 20th June, 1756, the very day, by a remarkable coincidence, on which the Nabob of Bengal took Calcutta. Intelligence of that event was not received at Madras till the 16th of August; and on the 18th a despatch was sent to require the presence of Colonel Clive, it being in contemplation, in consequence of the state of General Lawrence's health, that he should proceed in command of the expedition destined to recover Calcutta, and re-establish the Company's affairs in Bengal.

Accordingly, having been relieved at Fort St. David by Mr. A. Wynch, Colonel Clive proceeded to Madras, which he reached on the 24th of August, and assumed the command of the land forces of the expedition, the strength of which was seriously diminished by the unseasonable pretensions of Colonel Adlercron, who commanded one of His Majesty's regiments at Madras, but who was not employed on this occasion, from being deemed inexperienced in Indian warfare, and from having refused to engage to return to Madras when requested, or to surrender, for the reimbursement of the Company's losses, any part of the booty which the force under him might take. Adlercron, irritated at the appointment of Clive, stated, in reply to the requisition of the government for men, that they should have whatever number of His Majesty's troops they chose sent aboard the fleet: but added[75], "As I cannot answer to the King my master, nor to my own character, to remain cooped up in a garrison in a state of inaction, while any part of the forces under my command are upon actual service, I think it my duty to go along with them; and should I be of a contrary opinion, my Lieutenant-Colonel would have just cause of complaint against me, were I not to make him the first offer. The detachment of His Majesty's artillery is particularly allotted to attend my regiment, and I cannot consent to their being employed any where but with a part thereof; unless, therefore, we are to have the honour of assisting in this expedition, I do hereby, in the name of the King my master, demand that His Majesty's artillery, with all the stores thereto belonging, be immediately disembarked. I am sorry, gentlemen, to be obliged to observe, that I think it very extraordinary, that, after writing to me two letters, requesting me to undertake this service with the whole of His Majesty's troops, and pressing me to give the necessary orders accordingly, you should now be for putting me off upon such slight pretences."

The resolutions taken in council on the receipt of this letter were as follow:--

"Colonel Adlercron's avowal, in his letter of the 20th instant, that he could not engage to return hither upon our request, and that the Company should not have any part of the plunder that may be taken, towards the reimbursement of the immense loss they have sustained, appear to us to be reasons of the greatest importance against his going on the command; and we flatter ourselves that His Majesty will not be of opinion with Colonel Adlercron, that they are slight pretences, or that it will reflect dishonour on Colonel Adlercron to stay for the defence of a colony of so much consequence as Madras, where, besides, by much the largest force will remain, and above two thirds of his own regiment.

"The committee are entirely of opinion, that it is necessary, for the good of the Company, that the command should be vested in an officer of the Company's, subject to our orders, and do therefore abide by the resolution of the council, that Colonel Clive proceed in that quality; but, as it will cause some delay to land His Majesty's train of artillery, which is already embarked, it is agreed to write again to Colonel Adlercron, to represent to him the bad consequences of such delay: resolving, nevertheless, that it will be disembarked if he continues to insist on it, but to protest against him for all the damage which may be caused to the Company by such delay."

The reasonings of the governor and his council were not convincing to the mind of Colonel Adlercron. He wrote a long letter in reply, mentioning all his grievances and opinions, and positively refusing to permit the train, or any part of His Majesty's forces, to proceed on the expedition.

"The dangerous situation," he observes, "in which you represent things to be here, rather confirms me in my resolution not to part with His Majesty's train; but I have already given a full answer in the letter I wrote this morning to the general council, to which I beg leave to refer you, as you have offered nothing which can induce me to alter my sentiments. Surely, gentlemen, you are not so unreasonable as to expect that I will send away part of His Majesty's train or regiment (who are so immediately under my direction), and leave to you the nomination of the person who shall command them."

In consequence of this letter, not only the royal artillery, but His Majesty's guns and stores were disembarked; and the expedition, deprived of this strength, consisted of about two thousand four hundred men. Reinforcements, however, were promised both from Madras and Bombay.

These proceedings are not recorded with any desire to reflect on the memory of the actors in the scenes here described. A relation of such facts, however, is indispensable, to convey an idea of the difficulties which were to be overcome, and of the firmness and temper required in the situation in which Clive was now placed: but he was animated to exertion by the obstacles which presented themselves in the way of his success; and the sanguine hopes he entertained of being the instrument to avenge the cruel wrongs which his countrymen had sustained, and to redeem the state he served from the disgrace and ruin brought upon it by a barbarous enemy, are strongly expressed in the following letter to the Court of Directors, written before he sailed from Madras:--

"Honourable Gentlemen,

"From many hands you will hear of the capture of Calcutta by the
Moors, and the chain of misfortunes and losses which have happened
to the Company in particular, and to the nation in general: every
breast here seems filled with grief, horror, and resentment:
indeed, it is too sad a tale to unfold, and I must beg leave to
refer you to the general letters, consultations, and committees,
which will give you a full account of this catastrophe.

"Upon this melancholy occasion, the Governor and council thought
proper to summon me to this place. As soon as an expedition was
resolved upon, I offered my service, which was at last accepted,
and I am now upon the point of embarking on board His Majesty's
squadron, with a fine body of Europeans, full of spirit and
resentment for the insults and barbarities inflicted on so many
British subjects.

"I flatter myself that this expedition will not end with the taking
of Calcutta only; and that the Company's estate in those parts
will be settled in a better and more lasting condition than ever.
There is less reason to apprehend a check from the Nabob's forces,
than from the nature of the climate and country. The news of a
war[76] may likewise interfere with the success of this expedition:
however, should that happen, and hostilities be committed in India,
I hope we shall be able to dispossess the French of Chandernagore,
and leave Calcutta in a state of defence.

"I have a true sense of my duty to my country and the Company; and
I beg leave to assure you, that nothing shall be wanting, on my
part, to answer the ends of an undertaking on which so very much
depends. Success on this occasion will fill the measure of my joy,
as it will fix me in the esteem of those to whom I have the honour
to subscribe myself, with great respect,

(Signed) "R. CLIVE."
"Fort St. George, 11th Oct., 1756."

In several private communications from Clive to his friends in England, we find the same sentiments expressed, in language which denotes the calm and determined spirit with which he went to the performance of his duty on this important occasion. Writing to Mr. Mabbot, he observes, "Providence, who is the disposer of all events, has thought proper to inflict the greatest calamity that ever happened to the English nation in these parts; I mean the loss of Calcutta, attended with the greatest mortifications to the Company, and the most barbarous and cruel circumstances to the poor inhabitants. This unhappy news has called me to the presidency; and the gentlemen thereof have thought proper to put me at the head of the expedition for the recovery of Calcutta, the Company's losses, rights, and privileges. I have that sense of duty to my country, and of my obligations to the Company (be the event what it will), there is no hardship or risk, consistent with common prudence, I will not undergo to obtain the wished-for success. I am not so apprehensive of the Nabob of Bengal's forces, as of being recalled by the news of a war, or checked in our progress by the woods and swampiness of the country, which is represented as being almost impassable for a train of artillery."

In a letter to Mr. Roger Drake, a gentleman then high in the Court of Directors, Clive writes, "A few weeks ago I was happily seated at St. David's, pleased with the thoughts of obtaining your confidence and esteem, by my application to the civil branch of the Company's affairs, and of improving and increasing the investment; but the fatal blow given to the Company's estate at Bengal has superseded all other considerations, and I am now at this presidency upon the point of embarking on board His Majesty's squadron, with a very considerable body of troops, to attempt the recovery of Calcutta, and to gain satisfaction from the Nabob for the losses which the Company have sustained in those parts. The re-capture of Calcutta appears no very difficult task, but our further progress for reducing the Nabob to such terms as the gentlemen of Calcutta may think satisfactory, is precarious and doubtful, from the prospect of a war, which may not allow time for such an undertaking. You may be assured I never will turn my back upon Bengal, if not ordered from thence, without trying my utmost efforts toward obtaining the desired success."

Before proceeding to the narration of the important events which took place after Clive's arrival in Bengal, it will be useful to take a short view of the situation of the affairs of the Company at this period.

By the terms of the truce between the French and English, proclaimed on the 11th of October, and followed by a provisional treaty of peace between the two Companies, signed on the 26th and 31st of December, 1754, the English gained on the coast of Coromandel all for which they had so long contended; for, by the agreement of both parties to withdraw from any further interference with the native princes, Mahommed Ali, whom they had supported through so many vicissitudes, became the reigning[77] sovereign of the Carnatic.

The territorial acquisitions, and the influence established by the valour and talent of Bussy, which were deemed so valuable by Dupleix, the former Governor of Pondicherry, appear to have been only viewed by his successor Godeheu as obstacles to that peace which it was the chief object of his appointment to establish; and he discouraged all further progress to power in the Deckan.

The peace, or rather truce, obtained by such sacrifices, did not last a twelvemonth. Hostilities between the two nations were carried on as before, under the pretext of supporting the native chiefs and princes with whom the two companies were respectively allied, but with whose quarrels they had agreed not to interfere. To add to the embarrassment which this state of affairs produced, accounts were received at Madras, on the 12th of November, 1756, that war had broken out between France and England; and Clive had not sailed above a month, when a letter from the Governor and Council of Fort St. George, after suggesting an attack on the French settlement of Chandernagore, entreated his early return, with as many of his troops as could be spared, to protect them from the dangers likely to result from the expected arrival of a French armament from Europe.

The history of the events which brought ruin on the settlement of Calcutta is short and disgraceful. The kingdom of Bengal, which, with Orissa, had been, for fifteen years, subject to the able and active rule of Aliverdi Khan, was now[78] governed by his grand nephew Suraj-u-Dowlah, a youth, who, to all the effeminacy and luxurious habits of an eastern prince, added the greatest violence of temper, and an unrestrained indulgence of his passions. The commercial settlement of Calcutta, which had been protected by his predecessor, became an early object of his attack. Whether he was tempted by its known weakness and reputed wealth, or by a desire to expel the English from Bengal, is a matter of little moment. The pretexts on which his aggressions were grounded are too slight to merit consideration. He first accused the English of an intention to fortify Calcutta. This was disproved. Then they were charged with giving protection to one of his subjects[79] who had fled with great treasure. The person of this subject, he was informed, should be reserved for his pleasure; and proof was offered, that the treasure he was said to have fled with had no existence. But the young and rapacious tyrant was only to be satisfied by the plunder of the English merchants, and all that belonged to them. This was shown by his conduct at Cossimbazar. Having prevailed upon the chief, Mr. Watts, to visit him, he made him prisoner, and afterwards attacked and gained possession of that fortified factory. But the great object of his ambition was the capture of Calcutta. When he approached that city[80], a feeble effort was made at defence; after which it was decided that it would be expedient to retreat; but no orders were issued to render this measure regular or effective to its object of saving the persons and property of the European part of the population, by embarking them on board the vessels lying near the town. The consequence was, that when embarkation commenced, every one tried to secure his own personal safety by getting on board how and when he could. The alarm created by this confusion spread to the ships, and they began to drop down the river. This was no sooner perceived, than every boat was filled; and among those who fled to join the ships on this memorable occasion, were some who were bound to remain by every call of public duty. Signals were made from the fort to the ships to return, but they were not heeded; and, though two days elapsed before the capture, not a boat came to save the few who, either from a sense of duty, or from not possessing the means of escape, had remained in the fort. It is difficult to believe that amongst so many Englishmen, none were found disposed to adventure for the safety of their countrymen. "Never, perhaps," says Orme, "was such an opportunity of performing an heroic action so ignominiously neglected; for a single sloop, with fifteen brave men on board, might, in spite of all the efforts of the enemy, have come up, and, anchoring under the fort, have carried away all who suffered in the dungeon."[81]