FROM the first the French East India Company, much more than that of England, was the creature of the state. All the influence of the crown was employed to obtain subscribers to their funds; and no unimportant part of the official correspondence of a commercial nature, during the ministry of the celebrated Colbert, relates to solicitations employed for this purpose. It is very questionable whether the prosperity of the company was much promoted by this state patronage, but there cannot be a doubt that they were able in consequence of it to escape many of the dangers which might have beset them at the outset, and to start at once as a body able not only to repel aggression but to become aggressive. The alarm which their presence in the East excited in the Dutch and English companies must not be ascribed exclusively to commercial jealousy. As mere traders they could not appear very formidable rivals, but from their close connection with government their trade might easily be made subservient to political purposes, and become a dangerous instrument of intrigue at the native courts. In this way Louis XIV, not satisfied with disturbing the peace of Europe by his ambitious schemes, might be tempted to extend them to India, and by engaging in wars of conquest make the operations of trade impossible. Knowing the character of the French monarch, it was not uncharitable to suspect him of such intentions. It must be confessed, however, that the company established under his auspices continued for the greater part of a century to rest satisfied with commercial operations, and the erection of such factories as seemed necessary for conducting them with ease and safety. The most important of the localities on which they had thus fixed were those of Chandernagore, situated, like the Dutch factory of Chinsura, near the town of Hughli, on the river of that name in Bengal, and Pondicherry on the Coromandel coast. The latter was the seat of government, and had gradually become, by the regularity of its buildings and the strength of its fortifications, worthy of the honour thus assigned to it, though, like Madras and all other places on the same coast, it laboured under the great disadvantage of having no proper harbour.
In the year 1742 the office of governor of the French settlements in India was conferred on Joseph Dupleix. The son of a wealthy farmer-general and a director of the company, he had at a comparatively early age obtained the appointment of first member of council at Pondicherry. After ten years’ service in this capacity, he was, in 1730, made head of the factory of Chandernagore. Here by engaging in private trade he accumulated a large fortune; and at the same time, by the ability of his public management, rose so high in the confidence of his employers, that in 1742, as already mentioned, they made him governor. Thus recalled to Pondicherry, he entered on the duties of his new station in the possession of very superior advantages. To natural talents of a high order, he added a thorough acquaintance with the manners of the inhabitants, and with the political circumstances of the country. These advantages both vanity and ambition disposed him to improve to the utmost, and he was no sooner installed in office than he began to entertain schemes with a view to the ultimate establishment of French ascendency in the East. It was vain to expect this from the commercial operations of the company. In these it had been found impossible to compete successfully with the British and the Dutch; but another course was still open, and Dupleix was determined to put its practicability fairly to the test.
The approaching dismemberment of the Mughul empire was now manifest. Its soubahdars or governors were almost openly aspiring to independence, and even their subordinate deputies, or nabobs, were disposed to imitate the example. The parties thus formed were often so equally balanced, that neutrals of comparatively feeble resources could easily, by throwing their weight into one of the opposite scales, determine the result. This was the plan on which the governor of Pondicherry began to act. In carrying it out he found an able coadjutor in his own family. Madame Dupleix, though of European parentage, had been born and brought up in India. Many of the native languages were familiar to her, and by giving easy access to the natives enabled her to be the fittest medium of communication between them and her husband in any course of intrigue. In this way his measures for extending the influence and territory of the French in India were carried on with equal secrecy and success.
While Dupleix was revolving plans of aggrandisement, and smoothing the way for the accomplishment of them, the relations between Great Britain and France had ceased to be friendly, and the war known as that of the Austrian succession was declared in 1744. The companies on both sides of the Channel supposed it possible that warlike operations might be excluded from the countries lying within the limits of the Indian Ocean, and with this view endeavoured to enter into arrangements which would have left each as free as before to prosecute the Indian trade. Had the respective governments sanctioned the arrangements, the singular and not uninstructive spectacle might have been seen of two nations living peacefully with each other in one quarter of the globe while a fierce war was raging between them in all other quarters. But without such sanction the proposed arrangement, though seriously entertained, was a dream. This seems ultimately to have been the conclusion of all parties, for it soon appeared that at the very time when the proposal of an Indian neutrality was under discussion, the French government were secretly entertaining a project which was to enable them, as soon as war was actually declared, to bring an overwhelming force into the East, and strike a blow by which English interests there would be at once annihilated.
The project referred to was suggested to the French ministry by Bernard Francois Mahe de la Bourdonnais, usually designated for brevity as Labourdonnais. He was born at St. Malo, apparently of humble parentage, in 1699, and when only ten years of age began life as a sailor, by making a voyage to the Pacific. During a second voyage, made in 1713, to the East Indies, he employed his leisure in studying mathematics, under a Jesuit who happened to be on board, and kindly undertook to give him lessons. After other two voyages, one to the North and the other to the Levant, he in 1719 entered the service of the East India Company as second lieutenant, and had become second captain in 1724, when he took part in an expedition to the Malabar coast, for the purpose of relieving the settlement of Mahe, which had for a considerable time been suffering severely from a blockade by the natives. The success of the expedition was mainly owing to his ability; but from some cause not explained, he shortly after quitted the company’s service and engaged in commerce, making several successful voyages, from Pondicherry to Bengal, and to Mocha in the Red Sea. In the latter locality he employed his influence in reconciling a serious difference which had arisen between the Arabs and the Portuguese. His conduct in this matter was gratefully remembered by the viceroy at Goa, who, on a visit which Labourdonnais paid to that capital, made him such tempting offers that he was induced to enter the service of Portugal. The object intended at the time was an expedition to Mombas, on the east coast of Africa; but this having been abandoned, he did not find the scope for his talents which he had anticipated, and returned to France in 1733. The following year he obtained the important appointment of governor of the Mauritius, or the Isle of France, and the Isle of Bourbon, situated in the Indian Ocean to the east of Madagascar. These isles had early become known to the Portuguese, and were at a later period frequented by the Dutch, who gave one of them its name of Mauritius in honour of Prince Maurice of Nassau; but their importance as intermediate stations for ships sailing to the East had been first discerned by the French, who had regularly colonized them, and placed them under a distinct governor.
When Labourdonnais arrived at his government in 1735 he found everything in confusion. The two islands had separate councils, which, claiming equal jurisdiction, were constantly disputing as to the extent of their powers; abuses of every kind prevailed, and the capabilities of the soil remained almost totally undeveloped. The new governor at once saw the greatness and difficulty of the task which lay before him, and immediately commenced it with characteristic energy. Ere long the face of matters was completely changed. The kinds of cultivation best adapted for each island were rapidly extended; new towns and villages arose, harbours capable not only of supplying the wants of commerce, but of furnishing a rendezvous for ships of war, were constructed and fortified; and, government no longer hampered by the selfish aims and unseemly quarrels of those who administered it, became regular and effective. In carrying on this work of reform Labourdonnais often encountered an opposition which obliged him to stretch his powers to the utmost, and perhaps occasionally to exceed them. Those who had profited by abuses were naturally hostile to the removal of them, while many from mere natural indolence were indisposed to great and sudden changes, even when they could not deny them to be improvements. A spirit of hostility was thus engendered, and continued to manifest itself by murmur, complaint, and misrepresentation. These, though probably loudest in the islands, were not so effective there as in France, where, the facts being imperfectly known, were easily distorted. The consequence was, that while Labourdonnais was labouring with the utmost zeal and disinterestedness for the public good, he was generally stigmatized among his countrymen as little better than a selfish and capricious tyrant. He appears not to have been aware of the amount of prejudice which had been raised against him till 1740, when, having visited Europe in consequence of the death of his wife, he had ample proof of the bitterness and unscrupulousness with which he was pursued by his enemies.
Labourdonnais took immediate steps to set himself right with the ministry, the directors of the company, and the public at large, and succeeded so well that not only was his resignation refused, but new and important powers were committed to him. In the interviews which he had with Cardinal Fleury and the other members of the French cabinet, he did not rest satisfied with exculpating himself from absurd charges, but gave a full exposition of his views as to the course of policy which ought to be pursued in the East. Assuming that France and Great Britain were about to be at open war, he endeavoured to show that the maintenance of peace between the two East India Companies was impolitic if not impossible, and that no time should be lost in providing a fleet, which, cruising in the Indian Ocean, might be ready the moment war was declared to establish a complete supremacy. So satisfied was he of the valuable prizes which might be made by preying on the English company, that he offered to form a private association, which would fit out a number of armed vessels at its own expense, and be contented with the profits which might be realized by privateering.
The French government refused to sanction the private scheme, but resolved to effect the same object by means of an expedition consisting of vessels belonging partly to the navy and partly to the East India Company. The command was given to Labourdonnais, who set sail 5th April, 1741, for the Isle of France. His fleet was neither so numerous nor so well equipped as he had anticipated, but he was full of resources in himself, and possessed such a knowledge of naval and military affairs as enabled him to repair the defects of the ships and give the necessary training to the crews and soldiers. His object was to be ready as soon as the declaration of war should reach him to strike the meditated blow. In the meantime he hastened to Pondicherry, which was said to be threatened by the Marathas; and on learning that the danger had blown past, proceeded to the Malabar coast, where Mahe was once more indebted to him for deliverance from a formidable attack of the natives. On again arriving at the Isle of France, in 1742, he met with a bitter disappointment. The directors of the French East India Company had been somewhat cavalierly treated by the government, who had made all their arrangements with Labourdonnais without giving them any proper share in their deliberations. Their consent to his expedition being therefore rather forced than voluntary, they were more disposed to frustrate than to forward it. Accordingly, still dreaming of a possible neutrality between the companies, they easily found a pretext for issuing peremptory orders for the return of their vessels to France. Labourdonnais did not venture to disobey, and thus saw himself deprived of the main part of his fleet at the very time when the period for action was to all appearance about to arrive. His first feeling was again to tender his resignation; but a communication from the French minister approving of his past conduct, and pointing to higher promotion, induced him to remain at his post, and make new efforts to assemble a force which might yet enable him to execute his original project. He was thus employed when the war was openly declared.
The British government, well aware of what was intended by France, had not omitted to make the necessary preparations. A British squadron, commanded by Commodore Barnet, and consisting of two ships of sixty, one of fifty, and a frigate of twenty guns, appeared opportunely in the eastern seas. At first it cruised in two divisions, in the Straits of Sunda and of Malacca, and made several valuable French prizes. One of the vessels taken was immediately rendered available by being converted into a forty-gun ship, bearing the name of the Medway’s Prize. The squadron having left the straits, arrived on the Coromandel coast for the first time in July, 1745. At this time the French had no fleet on the coast, and Pondicherry with its fortifications in an unfinished state had a garrison of only 436 Europeans. It promised to be an easy capture, but was saved by the dexterity of Dupleix, who, aware that force would not avail him, had recourse to diplomacy. Pondicherry, though really independent, belonged nominally to the nabobship of Arcot. This fact was turned to good account by the French governor, who, by flattering the pride of the nabob, and claiming his protection, induced him to intimate to the governor and council of Madras, that any attempt by land on the French settlements in Arcot would be treated as an act of hostility against himself. It was represented to him in reply, that the commander of the squadron, holding his commission directly from the King of Great Britain, was independent of the Company; but he could not, or would not understand the distinction, and only answered, that if his intimation was disregarded he would hold the Company responsible for the consequences. The time had not yet arrived for treating such menaces with defiance; and therefore, on an assurance from the nabob that he would deal impartially between the companies, and issue a similar prohibition to the French, in the event of any meditated attack on the English settlements, Commodore Barnet, at the earnest entreaty of the government of Madras, abandoned all idea of land operations, and, after making a few additional prizes in the Bay of Bengal, retired for shelter during the monsoon to the island of Mergui on the eastern shore. In the beginning of 1746 the squadron returned to the Coromandel coast, and was reinforced from England by two ships of fifty and a frigate of twenty guns. This, however, did not make much addition to its absolute strength, as one of the sixty-gun ships having become unfit for action was sent home, and along with it the original frigate.
The English squadron, confined by the agreement which had been made with the nabob to operations at sea, was unable to effect anything of consequence, and was continuing a cruise rewarded only by a few paltry prizes, when intelligence arrived that Labourdonnais had at last effected his object and sailed for India with a fleet which might be expected to put British prowess to the test. At this critical moment Commodore Barnet died at Fort St. David, and was succeeded by Captain Peyton, who was his second in command, and very imperfectly supplied his place. The squadrons first came in sight of each other on the 25th of June, when the English were cruising on the Coromandel coast near Negapatam. The French fleet consisted of nine ships, the largest of which, mounting seventy guns, of which sixty were eighteen-pounders, carried Labourdonnais’ flag. The rest of the ships were of much smaller size and lighter metal, and carried as follows:—one, thirty-six; three, thirty-four; one, thirty; two, twenty-eight; and one, twenty-six guns; almost all twelve and eight pounders. These ships, however, were much larger than the number of their guns indicates, as Labourdonnais, after exerting himself to the utmost under very unfavourable circumstances, had been unable to give them their full complement. On the other hand they carried more than the usual complement of men, having on board 3,300. Of these 700 were Africans or Lascars, and about 300 unfit for duty from sickness. The English had not above half the number of men; but, unlike the majority of the French, they were well disciplined; they had also fewer guns, but more than made up for the deficiency by superior weight.
All things considered, the English squadron had thus decidedly the advantage. So conscious, indeed, was Labourdonnais of his inferiority in real naval strength, that his great object was to come as speedily as possible to close quarters, and turn his superiority in the number of men to account by having recourse to boarding. In this object he was baffled by the English, whose vessels, besides sailing and manoeuvring better than his, had the advantage of the wind, and succeeded in frustrating all the efforts of Labourdonnais to deprive them of it. From the long time spent by the one party in making and the other in counteracting these efforts, the fight did not commence till four in the afternoon. Owing to the distance maintained, it was almost entirely confined to the cannon, and lasted till nightfall without any decisive results. When the combatants separated, it was apparently with the intention of renewing the engagement on the following day, but Peyton, after obtaining the sanction of a council of war, deemed it prudent to sheer off, and virtually acknowledging a defeat, without having actually sustained it, made the best of his way to Trincomali in Ceylon. The only reason assigned was the leaky condition of the sixty-gun ship.
Labourdonnais, who was waiting to resume the fight, was astonished, when the morning dawned, to find that he had already gained the victory. He could not pursue, as the wind was against him; and, in fact, though he speaks with regret of the enemy having escaped him, was not at all displeased with their departure, inasmuch as his loss had been more severe than theirs, and both the state of his ships and want of provisions must have compelled him speedily to retire. Thanking his good fortune, he steered directly for Pondicherry. Immediately on his arrival, his reception by the governor convinced him that he had little to expect from his co-operation. Dupleix, whose vanity and ambition were still greater than his talents, could not conceal his jealousy of Labourdonnais. He saw in him the person who, in the event of anything befalling himself, was destined to be his successor, and he was mortified to find that an expedition, destined to act within the limits of what he conceived to be his exclusive jurisdiction, had been placed beyond his control, the only instructions given him being to assist it with his advice and second it with his efforts. The feelings which rankled in his mind, scarcely disguised at the first, were soon openly manifested, and led eventually to a course of proceedings which ruined both Labourdonnais and Dupleix, sacrificed the French interests in India, and saved those of Great Britain from impending destruction.
After a short and unsatisfactory consultation, in which the only point settled was, that Labourdonnais’ first endeavour must be to clear the coast of the English squadron, he set sail with that view, and had the satisfaction to learn that the danger apprehended from it was groundless. Judging by what the English commander ought to have done, he naturally expected that he would soon reappear, and even though too cautious or cowardly to risk a general action, would keep hovering on the coast, so as to keep up a constant alarm, and make it most hazardous, if not impossible, for the French to disembark their troops for the purpose of making an attempt upon Madras. This was visibly the great object now in contemplation, and to prevent the execution of it the commander of the British fleet ought to have devoted his utmost efforts. After spending a month at Trincomali he did make his appearance, but it was only to repeat his former procedure, and save himself by flight, because he had discovered or imagined, that while his force remained the same, that of the enemy had been augmented by additional guns procured at Pondicherry.
Convinced that he had nothing to fear from the English squadron, Labourdonnais returned to Pondicherry, and began to prepare in earnest for the siege of Madras. It was a prize worth fighting for, and to all appearance might be gained without much struggle. Within the territory belonging to it, and forming a tract which stretched about five miles along the coast and one mile inland, a population of 250,000 had been gathered, but nearly the whole of it consisted of natives, by whom it was known that no resistance would be offered. Madras itself consisted of three divisions. Farthest north was an immense assemblage of huts, huddled together without any order, and occupied entirely by the lowest classes of natives; immediately adjoining this suburb, on the south, was what was called the Black Town, containing many good houses, which belonged to Indian and Armenian merchants, and surrounded by a wall of so little height and strength as to be almost useless for defence; south of this lay the town proper, or Fort St. George. It formed a parallelogram about 400 yards long from north to south, and 100 yards broad. It was inclosed by a slender wall, and defended by four bastions and batteries of defective construction. There were no outworks. Within the enclosure were an English and Roman Catholic church, the factory and buildings connected with it, and about fifty good houses, occupied by English, or other Europeans under their protection. Their whole number did not exceed 300. Of these 200 were the soldiers of the garrison. Few of the common men and only two or three of the officers had ever seen service.
As the danger which threatened the settlement must have been foreseen, it is impossible to exculpate the authorities from the charge of gross negligence in not providing better against it. If they trusted to the promise of the nabob to interfere for their protection, as he had for that of the French, they were soon made aware of the folly of leaning on such a broken reed. Their application to him was disregarded, either because Dupleix had previously gained his ear, or they were too parsimonious to make a liberal use of the only means which could have rendered it effectual; and Labourdonnais, after completing his preparations without interruption, cast anchor on the 14th of September, about four leagues south of Madras, with nine ships and two bomb-vessels. On board were 2,900 European mariners and soldiers, 400 Africans, 400 Indian natives, and all the artillery and stores necessary for the siege. The soldiers being immediately landed began to advance along the shore, while the fleet proceeded to take up its station as near Madras as it could safely approach.
The fort alone being capable of any resistance, Labourdonnais naturally directed his attack against it, and having erected a battery of nine mortars, on an open space to the west, at the distance of 500 yards, commenced the bombardment. Defence was never seriously contemplated; but immediate surrender was delayed in the hope that the English squadron might make its appearance. Its approach was at one time actually rumoured, and spread such consternation among the French, that they were preparing to decamp. Unhappily for the besieged it proved a false alarm, and Labourdonnais, only urged by it to more strenuous exertions, not only opened another battery to the south, but began to cannonade from the sea. An assault had now become imminent, and in order to avert its horrors, a flag of truce was sent from the town. The deputies who accompanied it proposed a ransom, but Labourdonnais at once declared, that though he was not unwilling to entertain such a proposal, it could only be after the capture was completed by a surrender. Ultimately, after he had given his word of honour that the ransom would be moderate, his terms were accepted, and he entered the town in triumph. Though the siege lasted and the bombardment continued with interruptions from the 18th to the 25th of September, so bloodless was it that not one Frenchman was killed, and only five Englishmen.
By the terms of capitulation the whole of the merchandise and the moveable property passed at once to the captors, and all the English became prisoners of war. The important point of the ransom remained to be settled, but the honourable and liberal spirit which characterized Labourdonnais’ proceedings made it impossible to doubt that it would be fairly, amicably, and generously arranged. Suddenly it was whispered that a serious difficulty had arisen. Dupleix, on the ground that Madras was locally within his government of India, claimed a right to dispose of it. So confident was he of possessing this right, or at least so determined was he to insist upon it, that on receiving a letter from the Nabob of Arcot, who had now, when too late, endeavoured to interdict the French from laying siege to Madras, he had pacified him by promising that the town when taken would be delivered into his hands. From the subsequent proceedings of Dupleix it is plain that he never meant to have fulfilled this promise. It furnished him, however, with a plausible pretext for sending a letter to Labourdonnais, in which he desired him not to consent to any terms of ransom, and intimated for the first time that he considered himself entitled to speak authoritatively on the subject.
Before this letter arrived, the capitulation, including the ransom as one of its essential conditions, had taken place. As a completed act, Labourdonnais could not honourably recede. Nor did he wish it; for, so far from acquiescing in the alleged right of Dupleix to dictate the terms of the capitulation, he regarded it as an arrogant assumption, at total variance with their respective commissions. Instead of deviating from the course originally chalked out, he proceeded to fix the amount of the ransom. Dupleix now listened only to his passion, and even endeavoured to gain his object by attempting to seize the person of Labourdonnais, and tampering with the soldiers under his command. At Pondicherry, also, he entered on a course of intrigue, and endeavoured to gain a kind of sanction to his proceedings, by inducing the French inhabitants to petition and protest against the ransom as most injurious to French interests. Labourdonnais remained unmoved, and intimated his determination not to quit Madras until every stipulation to which he had consented should be honourably performed. Violence having thus proved unavailing, Dupleix saw the necessity of changing his tactics, and while weaving new pretexts for delaying the actual restoration of Madras to the English, solemnly bound himself to carry it into effect as soon as certain preliminary arrangements were completed.
During the heat of the quarrel between the two French governors, three ships of war, one of seventy-two, and two of forty guns, with 1,366 men on board, arrived at Pondicherry. Added to the force which Labourdonnais already possessed, they gave him such an ascendency as placed all the other English settlements in India at his mercy. To all appearance nothing could now save Bombay and Calcutta from sharing the fate of Madras. This petty quarrel saved them. Labourdonnais, detained by it, lost his opportunity. The very day after the ransom had been fixed, by regular treaty, at eleven lacs of pagodas, nearly £440,000 sterling, the monsoon commenced with a furious hurricane, by which six ships of the French fleet lying in the Madras Roads were driven out to sea. One of them foundered: four of the others, including the seventy-gun ship, were completely dismasted, and otherwise seriously injured. In fact, the French marine force in the East was so completely crippled as to be afterwards incapable of achieving anything of consequence.
Labourdonnais, trusting to the promise of Dupleix faithfully to perform all the conditions of the capitulation, finally quitted Madras, committing the charge of it to a member of the council of Pondicherry. On arriving at this place, he left as many soldiers and sailors as, with those previously there, amounted to 3,000 Europeans. His whole fleet now consisted of only seven ships, four of them in good and three in wretched condition. He sailed on the 20th of October, intending to proceed for Acheen with the whole; but, when at sea, changed his intention with regard to the three, on finding that even if capable of reaching that port they would be unserviceable, and steered with them directly for the Mauritius. He had quitted that island at the head of a powerful armament, with which he was confident of achieving glorious results. How mortifying must have been the contrast presented by his return! His misfortunes, however, were not yet ended. During his absence he had been superseded in his government, and nothing remained for him but to return to Europe shorn of all his honours. The voyage was singularly unfortunate. After passing the Cape of Good Hope, he narrowly escaped capture by British cruisers; and, having been obliged to part company with the other ships of the fleet, arrived in the West Indies. Here, as war was not yet declared between France and Holland, he took passage in a Dutch vessel which touched at Falmouth. The officials there, probably acting on information which had been given them, recognized him, and he was carried to London as a prisoner of war. The reception given him was equally honourable to himself and to those to whom he owed it. All classes vied in testifying respect and showing kindness, and when he expressed a wish to return to France, he found even among the directors of the Company on whom his skill and prowess had inflicted such heavy losses, a generous individual ready to become security for him to the whole amount of his fortune. The very idea of security, however, was scouted, and his parole was at once declared sufficient. The short period during which Labourdonnais was less the prisoner than the guest of England was the last during which fortune may be said to have smiled upon him. The moment he reached his native shore, her persecutions again commenced. He had performed services which entitled him to the highest honours his country could bestow. Instead of reward, only a dungeon awaited him, and he was immured in the Bastille on the 2nd of March, 1748. Here he was left to pine away twenty-six months before he was permitted to communicate with the council, and though most of the charges made against him carried their refutation along with them, and the few which had any plausibility were proved to be groundless, three years elapsed before his acquittal was pronounced. What could it now avail him? The judicial murder had already been committed; and, after a short struggle with disease and poverty, death came to his relief. The injustice of which he had been the victim was afterwards formally though very inadequately recognized, by a pension to his widow, the grant bearing on the face of it that he had died “without receiving any reward for so many services, or any compensation for so many persecutions.”