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Critical and Historical Essays Volume 1

T >> Thomas Babington Macaulay >> Critical and Historical Essays Volume 1




Such or nearly such was the change which passed on the Mogul
empire during the forty years which followed the death of
Aurungzebe. A succession of nominal sovereigns, sunk in indolence
and debauchery, sauntered away life in secluded palaces, chewing
bang, fondling concubines, and listening to buffoons. A
succession of ferocious invaders descended through the western
passes, to prey on the defenceless wealth of Hindostan. A Persian
conqueror crossed the Indus, marched through the gates of Delhi,
and bore away in triumph those treasures of which the
magnificence had astounded Roe and Bernier, the Peacock Throne,
on which the richest jewels of Golconda had been disposed by the
most skilful hands of Europe, and the inestimable Mountain of
Light, which, after many strange vicissitudes, lately shone in
the bracelet of Runjeet Sing, and is now destined to adorn the
hideous idol of Orissa. The Afghan soon followed to complete the
work of the devastation which the Persian had begun. The warlike
tribes of Rajpootana, threw off the Mussulman yoke. A band of
mercenary soldiers occupied Rohilcund. The Seiks ruled or the
Indus. The Jauts spread dismay along the Jumna. The highlands
which border on the western sea-coast of India
poured forth a yet more formidable race, a race which was long
the terror of every native power, and which, after many desperate
and doubtful struggles, yielded only to the fortune and genius of
England. It was under the reign of Aurungzebe that this wild clan
of plunderers first descended from their mountains; and soon
after his death, every corner of his wide empire learned to
tremble at the mighty name of the Mahrattas. Many fertile
viceroyalties were entirely subdued by them. Their dominions
stretched across the peninsula from sea to sea. Mahratta captains
reigned at Poonah, at Gualior, in Guzerat, in Berar, and in
Tanjore. Nor did they, though they had become great sovereigns,
therefore cease to be freebooters. They still retained the
predatory habits of their forefathers. Every region which was not
subject to their rule was wasted by their incursions. Wherever
their kettle-drums were heard, the peasant threw his bag of rice
on his shoulder, hid his small savings in his girdle, and fled
with his wife and children to the mountains or the jungles, to
the milder neighbourhood of the hyaena and the tiger. Many
provinces redeemed their harvests by the payment of an annual
ransom. Even the wretched phantom who still bore the imperial
title stooped to pay this ignominious black-mail. The camp-fires
of one rapacious leader were seen from the walls of the palace of
Delhi. Another, at the head of his innumerable cavalry, descended
year after year on the rice-fields of Bengal. Even the European
factors trembled for their magazines. Less than a hundred years
ago, it was thought necessary to fortify Calcutta against the
horsemen of Berar, and the name of the Mahratta ditch still
preserves the memory of the danger.

Wherever the viceroys of the Mogul retained authority they became
sovereigns. They might still acknowledge in words the superiority
of the house of Tamerlane; as a Count of Flanders or a Duke of
Burgundy might have acknowledged the superiority of the most
helpless driveller among the later Carlovingians. They might
occasionally send to their titular sovereign a complimentary
present, or solicit from him a title of honour. In truth,
however, they were no longer lieutenants removable at pleasure,
but independent hereditary princes. In this way originated those
great Mussulman houses which formerly ruled Bengal and the
Carnatic, and those which still, though in a state of vassalage,
exercise some of the powers of royalty at Lucknow and Hyderabad.

In what was this confusion to end? Was the strife to continue
during centuries? Was it to terminate in the rise of another
great monarchy ? Was the Mussulman or the Mahratta to be the Lord
of India? Was another Baber to descend from the mountains, and to
lead the hardy tribes of Cabul and Chorasan against a wealthier
and less warlike race? None of these events seemed improbable.
But scarcely any man, however sagacious, would have thought it
possible that a trading company, separated from India by fifteen
thousand miles of sea, and possessing in India only a few acres
for purposes of commerce, would, in less than a hundred years,
spread its empire from Cape Comorin to the eternal snow of the
Himalayas; would compel Mahratta and Mahommedan to forget their
mutual feuds in common subjection; would tame down even those
wild races which had resisted the most powerful of the Moguls;
and, having united under its laws a hundred millions of subjects,
would carry its victorious arms far to the cast of the
Burrampooter, and far to the west of the Hydaspes, dictate terms
of peace at the gates of Ava, and seat its vassal on the throne
of Candahar.

The man who first saw that it was possible to found an European
empire on the ruins of the Mogul monarchy was Dupleix. His
restless, capacious, and inventive mind had formed this scheme,
at a time when the ablest servants of the English Company were
busied only about invoices and bills of lading. Nor had he only
proposed to himself the end. He had also a just and distinct view
of the means by which it was to be attained. He clearly saw that
the greatest force which the princes of India could bring into
the field would be no match for a small body of men trained in
the discipline, and guided by the tactics, of the West. He saw
also that the natives of India might, under European commanders,
be formed into armies, such as Saxe or Frederic would be proud to
command. He was perfectly aware that the most easy and convenient
way in which an European adventurer could exercise sovereignty in
India, was to govern the motions, and to speak through the mouth
of some glittering puppet dignified by the title of Nabob or
Nizam. The arts both of war and policy, which a few years later
were employed with such signal success by the English, were first
understood and practised by this ingenious and aspiring
Frenchman.

The situation of India was such that scarcely any aggression
could be without a pretext, either in old laws or in recent
practice. All rights were in a state of utter uncertainty; and
the Europeans who took part in the disputes of the natives
confounded the confusion, by applying to Asiatic politics the
public law of the West, and analogies drawn from the feudal
system. If it was convenient to treat a Nabob as an independent
prince, there was an excellent plea for doing so. He was
independent, in fact. If it was convenient to treat him as a mere
deputy of the Court of Delhi, there was no difficulty; for he was
so in theory. If it was convenient to consider his office as an
hereditary dignity, or as a dignity held during life only, or as
a dignity held only during the good pleasure of the Mogul,
arguments and precedents might be found for every one of those
views. The party who had the heir of Baber in their hands,
represented him as the undoubted, the legitimate, the absolute
sovereign, whom all subordinate authorities were bound to obey.
The party against whom his name was used did not want plausible
pretexts for maintaining that the empire was in fact dissolved,
and that though it might be decent to treat the Mogul with
respect, as a venerable relic of an order of things which had
passed away, it was absurd to regard him as the real master of
Hindostan.

In the year 1748, died one of the most powerful of the new
masters of India, the great Nizam al Mulk, Viceroy of the Deccan.
His authority descended to his son, Nazir Jung. Of the provinces
subject to this high functionary, the Carnatic was the wealthiest
and the most extensive. It was governed by an ancient Nabob,
whose name the English corrupted into Anaverdy Khan.

But there were pretenders to the government both of the
viceroyalty and of the subordinate province. Mirzapha Jung, a
grandson of Nizam al Mulk, appeared as the competitor of Nazir
Jung. Chunda Sahib, son-in-law of a former Nabob of the Carnatic,
disputed the title of Anaverdy Khan. In the unsettled state of
Indian law it was easy for both Mirzapha Jung and Chunda Sahib to
make out something like a claim of right. In a society altogether
disorganised, they had no difficulty in finding greedy
adventurers to follow their standards. They united their
interests, invaded the Carnatic, and applied for assistance to
the French, whose fame had been raised by their success against
the English in a recent war on the coast of Coromandel.

Nothing could have happened more pleasing to the subtle and
ambitious Dupleix. To make a Nabob of the Carnatic, to make a
Viceroy of the Deccan, to rule under their names the whole of
Southern India; this was indeed an attractive prospect. He allied
himself with the pretenders, and sent four hundred French
soldiers, and two thousand sepoys, disciplined after the European
fashion, to the assistance of his confederates. A battle was
fought. The French distinguished themselves greatly. Anaverdy
Khan was defeated and slain. His son, Mahommed Ali, who was
afterwards well known in England as the Nabob of Arcot, and who
owes to the eloquence of Burke a most unenviable immortality,
fled with a scanty remnant of his army to Trichinopoly; and the
conquerors became at once masters of almost every part of the
Carnatic.

This was but the beginning of the greatness of Dupleix. After
some months of fighting, negotiation and intrigue, his ability
and good fortune seemed to have prevailed everywhere. Nazir Jung
perished by the hands of his own followers; Mirzapha Jung was
master of the Deccan; and the triumph of French arms and French
policy was complete. At Pondicherry all was exultation and
festivity. Salutes were fired from the batteries, and Te Deum
sung in the churches. The new Nizam came thither to visit his
allies; and the ceremony of his installation was performed there
with great pomp. Dupleix, dressed in the garb worn by Mahommedans
of the highest rank, entered the town in the same palanquin with
the Nizam, and, in the pageant which followed, took precedence of
all the court. He was declared Governor of India from the river
Kristna to Cape Comorin, a country about as large as France, with
authority superior even to that of Chunda Sahib. He was intrusted
with the command of seven thousand cavalry. It was announced that
no mint would be suffered to exist in the Carnatic except that at
Pondicherry. A large portion of the treasures which former
Viceroys of the Deccan had accumulated had found its way into the
coffers of the French governor. It was rumoured that he had
received two hundred thousand pounds sterling in money, besides
many valuable jewels. In fact, there could scarcely be any limit
to his gains. He now ruled thirty millions of people with almost
absolute power. No honour or emolument could be obtained from the
government but by his intervention. No petition, unless signed by
him, was perused by the Nizam.

Mirzapha Jung survived his elevation only a few months, But
another prince of the same house was raised to the throne by
French influence, and ratified all the promises of his
predecessor. Dupleix was now the greatest potentate in India.

His countrymen boasted that his name was mentioned with awe even
in the chambers of the palace of Delhi. The native population
looked with amazement on the progress which, in the short space
of four years, an European adventurer had made towards dominion
in Asia. Nor was the vainglorious Frenchman content with the
reality of power. He loved to display his greatness with
arrogant ostentation before the eyes of his subjects and of
his rivals. Near the spot where his policy had obtained its
chief triumph, by the fall of Nazir Jung, and the elevation
of Mirzapha, he determined to erect a column, on the four
sides of which four pompous inscriptions, in four languages,
should proclaim his glory to all the nations of the East. Medals
stamped with emblems of his successes were buried beneath the
foundations of his stately pillar, and round it arose a town
bearing the haughty name of Dupleix Fatihabad, which is, being
interpreted, the City of the Victory of Dupleix.

The English had made some feeble and irresolute attempts to stop
the rapid and brilliant career of the rival Company, and
continued to recognise Mahommed Ali as Nabob of the Carnatic. But
the dominions of Mahommed Ali consisted of Trichinopoly alone:
and Trichinopoly was now invested by Chunda Sahib and his French
auxiliaries. To raise the siege seemed impossible. The small
force which was then at Madras had no commander. Major Lawrence
had returned to England; and not a single officer of established
character remained in the settlement. The natives had learned to
look with contempt on the mighty nation which was soon to conquer
and to rule them. They had seen the French colours flying on Fort
St. George; they had seen the chiefs of the English factory led
in triumph through the streets of Pondicherry; they had seen the
arms and counsels of Dupleix everywhere successful, while the
opposition which the authorities of Madras had made to his
progress, had served only to expose their own weakness, and to
heighten his glory. At this moment, the valour and genius of an
obscure English youth suddenly turned the tide of fortune.

Clive was now twenty-five years old. After hesitating for some
time between a military and a commercial life, he had at length
been placed in a post which partook of both characters, that of
commissary to the troops, with the rank of captain. The present
emergency called forth all his powers. He represented to his
superiors that unless some vigorous effort were made,
Trichinopoly would fall, the house of Anaverdy Khan would perish,
and the French would become the real masters of the whole
peninsula of India. It was absolutely necessary to strike some
daring blow. If an attack were made on Arcot, the capital of the
Carnatic, and the favourite residence of the Nabobs, it was not
impossible that the siege of Trichinopoly would be raised. The
heads of the English settlement, now thoroughly alarmed by the
success of Dupleix, and apprehensive that, in the event of a new
war between France and Great Britain, Madras would be instantly
taken and destroyed, approved of Clive's plan, and intrusted the
execution of it to himself. The young captain was put at the head
of two hundred English soldiers, and three hundred sepoys, armed
and disciplined after the European fashion. Of the eight officers
who commanded this little force under him, only two had ever been
in action, and four of the eight were factors of the Company,
whom Clive's example had induced to offer their services. The
weather was stormy; but Clive pushed on, through thunder,
lightning, and rain, to the gates of Arcot. The garrison, in a
panic, evacuated the fort, and the English entered it without a
blow.

But Clive well knew that he should not be suffered to retain
undisturbed possession of his conquest. He instantly began to
collect provisions, to throw up works, and to make preparations
for sustaining a siege. The garrison, which had fled at his
approach, had now recovered from its dismay, and, having been
swelled by large reinforcements from the neighbourhood to a force
of three thousand men, encamped close to the town. At dead of
night, Clive marched out of the fort, attacked the camp by
surprise, slew great numbers, dispersed the rest, and returned to
his quarters without having lost a single man.

The intelligence of these events was soon carried to Chunda
Sahib, who, with his French allies, was besieging Trichinopoly.
He immediately detached four thousand men from his camp, and sent
them to Arcot. They were speedily joined by the remains of the
force which Clive had lately scattered. They were further
strengthened by two thousand men from Vellore, and by a still
more important reinforcement of a hundred and fifty French
soldiers whom Dupleix despatched from Pondicherry. The whole of
his army, amounting to about ten thousand men, was under the
command of Rajah Sahib, son of Chunda Sahib.

Rajah Sahib proceeded to invest the fort of Arcot, which seemed
quite incapable of sustaining a siege. The walls were ruinous,
the ditches dry, the ramparts too narrow to admit the guns, the
battlements too low to protect the soldiers. The little garrison
had been greatly reduced by casualties. It now consisted of a
hundred and twenty Europeans and two hundred sepoys. Only four
officers were left; the stock of provisions was scanty; and the
commander, who had to conduct the defence under circumstances so
discouraging, was a young man of five-and-twenty, who had been
bred a bookkeeper.

During fifty days the siege went on. During fifty days the young
captain maintained the defence, with a firmness, vigilance, and
ability, which would have done honour to the oldest marshal in
Europe. The breach, however, increased day by day. The garrison
began to feel the pressure of hunger. Under such circumstances,
any troops so scantily provided with officers might have been
expected to show signs of insubordination; and the danger was
peculiarly great in a force composed of men differing widely from
each other in extraction, colour, language, manners, and
religion. But the devotion of the little band to its chief
surpassed anything that is related of the Tenth Legion of Caesar,
or of the Old Guard of Napoleon. The sepoys came to Clive, not to
complain of their scanty fare, but to propose that all the grain
should be given to the Europeans, who required more nourishment
than the natives of Asia. The thin gruel, they said, which was
strained away from the rice, would suffice for themselves.
History contains no more touching instance of military fidelity,
or of the influence of a commanding mind.

An attempt made by the government of Madras to relieve the place
had failed. But there was hope from another quarter. A body of
six thousand Mahrattas, half soldiers, half robbers, under the
command of a chief named Morari Row, had been hired to assist
Mahommed Ali; but thinking the French power irresistible, and the
triumph of Chunda Sahib certain, they had hitherto remained
inactive on the frontiers of the Carnatic. The fame of the
defence of Arcot roused them from their torpor. Morari Row
declared that he had never before believed that Englishmen could
fight, but that he would willingly help them since he saw that
they had spirit to help themselves. Rajah Sahib learned that the
Mahrattas were in motion. It was necessary for him to be
expeditious. He first tried negotiation. He offered large bribes
to Clive, which were rejected with scorn. He vowed that, if his
proposals were not accepted, he would instantly storm the fort,
and put every man in it to the sword. Clive told him in reply,
with characteristic haughtiness, that his father was an usurper,
that his army was a rabble, and that he would do well to think
twice before he sent such poltroons into a breach defended by
English soldiers.

Rajah Sahib determined to storm the fort. The day was well suited
to a bold military enterprise. It was the great Mahommedan
festival which is sacred to the memory of Hosein, the son of Ali.
The history of Islam contains nothing more touching than the
event which gave rise to that solemnity. The mournful legend
relates how the chief of the Fatimites, when all his brave
followers had perished round him, drank his latest draught of
water, and uttered his latest prayer, how the assassins carried
his head in triumph, how the tyrant smote the lifeless lips with
his staff, and how a few old men recollected with tears that they
had seen those lips pressed to the lips of the Prophet of God.
After the lapse of near twelve centuries, the recurrence of this
solemn season excites the fiercest and saddest emotions in the
bosoms of the devout Moslem of India. They work themselves up to
such agonies of rage and lamentation that some, it is said, have
given up the ghost from the mere effect of mental excitement.
They believe that, whoever, during this festival, falls in arms
against the infidels, atones by his death for all the sins of his
life, and passes at once to the garden of the Houris. It was at
this time that Rajah Sahib determined to assault Arcot.
Stimulating drugs were employed to aid the effect of religious
zeal, and the besiegers, drunk with enthusiasm, drunk with bang,
rushed furiously to the attack.

Clive had received secret intelligence of the design, had made
his arrangements, and, exhausted by fatigue, had thrown himself
on his bed. He was awakened by the alarm, and was instantly at
his post. The enemy advanced, driving before them elephants whose
foreheads were armed with iron plates. It was expected that the
gates would yield to the shock of these living battering-rams.
But the huge beasts no sooner felt the English musket-balls than
they turned round, and rushed furiously away, trampling on the
multitude which had urged them forward. A raft was launched on
the water which filled one part of the ditch. Clive, perceiving
that his gunners at that post did not understand their business,
took the management of a piece of artillery himself, and cleared
the raft in a few minutes. When the moat was dry the assailants
mounted with great boldness; but they were received with a fire
so heavy and so well directed, that it soon quelled the courage
even of fanaticism and of intoxication. The rear ranks of the
English kept the front ranks supplied with a constant succession
of loaded muskets, and every shot told on the living mass below.
After three desperate onsets, the besiegers retired behind the ditch.

The struggle lasted about an hour. Four hundred of the assailants
fell. The garrison lost only five or six men. The besieged passed
an anxious night, looking for a renewal of the attack. But when
the day broke, the enemy were no more to be seen. They had
retired, leaving to the English several guns and a large quantity
of ammunition.

The news was received at Fort St. George with transports of joy
and pride. Clive was justly regarded as a man equal to any
command. Two hundred English soldiers and seven hundred sepoys
were sent to him, and with this force he instantly commenced
offensive operations. He took the fort of Timery, effected a
junction with a division of Morari Row's army, and hastened, by
forced marches, to attack Rajah Sahib, who was at the head of
about five thousand men, of whom three hundred were French. The
action was sharp; but Clive gained a complete victory. The
military chest of Rajah Sahib fell into the hands of the
conquerors. Six hundred sepoys, who had served in the enemy's
army, came over to Clive's quarters, and were taken into the
British service. Conjeveram surrendered without a blow. The
governor of Arnee deserted Chunda Sahib, and recognised the title
of Mahommed Ali.

Had the entire direction of the war been intrusted to Clive, it
would probably have been brought to a speedy close. But the
timidity and incapacity which appeared in all the movements of
the English, except where he was personally present, protracted
the struggle. The Mahrattas muttered that his soldiers were of a
different race from the British whom they found elsewhere. The
effect of this languor was that in no long time Rajah Sahib, at
the head of a considerable army, in which were four hundred
French troops, appeared almost under the guns of Fort St. George,
and laid waste the villas and gardens of the gentlemen of the
English settlement. But he was again encountered and defeated by
Clive. More than a hundred of the French were killed or taken, a
loss more serious than that of thousands of natives. The
victorious army marched from the field of battle to Fort St.
David. On the road lay the City of the Victory of Dupleix, and
the stately monument which was designed to commemorate the
triumphs of France in the East. Clive ordered both the city and
the monument to be razed to the ground. He was induced, we
believe, to take this step, not by personal or national
malevolence, but by a just and profound policy. The town and its
pompous name, the pillar and its vaunting inscriptions, were
among the devices by which Dupleix had laid the public mind of
India under a spell. This spell it was Clive's business to break.
The natives had been taught that France was confessedly the first
power in Europe, and that the English did not presume to dispute
her supremacy. No measure could be more effectual for the
removing of this delusion than the public and solemn demolition
of the French trophies.

The government of Madras, encouraged by these events, determined
to send a strong detachment, under Clive, to reinforce the
garrison of Trichinopoly. But just at this conjuncture, Major
Lawrence arrived from England, and assumed the chief command.
From the waywardness and impatience of control which had
characterised Clive, both at school and in the counting-house, it
might have been expected that he would not, after such
achievements, act with zeal and good humour in a subordinate
capacity. But Lawrence had early treated him with kindness; and
it is bare justice to Clive, to say that, proud and overbearing
as he was, kindness was never thrown away upon him. He cheerfully
placed himself under the orders of his old friend, and exerted
himself as strenuously in the second post as he could have done
in the first. Lawrence well knew the value of such assistance.
Though himself gifted with no intellectual faculty higher than
plain good sense, he fully appreciated the powers of his
brilliant coadjutor. Though he had made a methodical study of
military tactics, and, like all men regularly bred to a
profession, was disposed to look with disdain on interlopers, he
had yet liberality enough to acknowledge that Clive was an
exception to common rules. "Some people," he wrote, "are pleased
to term Captain Clive fortunate and lucky; but, in my opinion,
from the knowledge I have of the gentleman, he deserved and might
expect from his conduct everything as it fell out;--a man of an
undaunted resolution, of a cool temper, and of 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 judgment and good sense, he led
on an army like an experienced officer and a brave soldier, with
a prudence that certainly warranted success."

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