AT THE time of Labourdonnais’ departure, Dupleix stood pledged to the restoration of Madras in January, 1747. Meanwhile his duplicity had involved him in a serious difficulty. When only anticipating the capture of the town, he had neutralized the threatened opposition of Anwar-ud-din, Nabob of Arcot, by promising to make him a present of it. This promise served its purpose at the time, and he had thought no more of it; but the nabob was not to be thus duped, and on finding that it was not to be voluntarily surrendered to him, sent his son, Maphaz Khan, at the head of an army of 10,000 men, to take it by force. Dupleix was, or from policy pretended to be afraid, and proposed negotiation. The effect only was to confirm Maphaz Khan in the belief that his arms were irresistible. Without listening to the two deputies who had been sent to treat with him, he imprisoned them, and proceeded to take up his position near the spot where Labourdonnais had erected his batteries. His subsequent operations displayed considerable skill. A shallow stream which ran along the west side of the town, and reached the sea about 700 yards below, was so dammed up at its mouth by a mound of sand as to form a kind of wet ditch. To get rid of this obstruction, he employed a great number of men to make an outlet for the water by cutting through the mound; and at the same time sent a strong party three miles to the north to take possession of the only spring from which the inhabitants were supplied with good water. Thus threatened, Dupleix opened his fire from the walls on the 21st of October. He had no idea, however, of submitting to the indignity of a siege, and therefore, on the following day, sent out a body of 400 men to act on the offensive. They had with them two field-pieces, which they had concealed, and with which, when the enemy advanced with an appearance of resolution, they opened a most destructive fire. The Mughuls, who had never seen artillery so served before, were confounded, especially at the rapidity of the discharges, turned back, and fled with the utmost precipitation. The French had not lost a single man, and remained masters of all the tents and baggage. Maphaz Khan seemed disposed, after collecting his scattered troops, to make a stand in the neighbourhood, but on learning that the French expected a reinforcement from Pondicherry, hastened off to St. Thome, situated on the coast, about four miles to the south. In this town—which, known to the natives as Mailapur, owes its European name to a tradition of being the place where the apostle St. Thomas suffered martyrdom, and had attained great splendour under the Portuguese, though it had again sunk into comparative insignificance—Maphaz Khan occupied a position which, had he known to profit by it, would have cut off the communication between Pondicherry and Madras. This was obviously his intention, but he managed so ill as only to place himself between two fires, the reinforcement from the former advancing to attack him in front, while a detachment of 400 men from the latter attacked his rear. The detachment arrived so late that this part of the plan failed. The reinforcement, however, persisted in their original intention, and after forcing a passage across a stream, on the north side of which the enemy were advantageously posted, drove them back at the point of the bayonet, and following close upon their heels into the town, where both resistance and retreat were impossible, made fearful slaughter. Conspicuous among the fugitives, who escaped to the plain to the westward, was Maphaz Khan, mounted on an elephant, on which the great standard was displayed. These encounters with the native troops established a new era in Indian warfare. The infinite superiority of European discipline was no longer doubtful; and from the valour displayed by some of the natives who had been exercised in it, and fought on the French side, the important fact was discovered that a native army might be formed, and so trained as to become the most effectual instrument of European domination. The first great exemplification of this fact, if not the discovery of it, is unquestionably due to Dupleix.
While gaining these laurels, the governor of Pondicherry was meditating an act of gross iniquity. The law of nations, as well as solemn pledges given to Labourdonnais, bound him to restore Madras in return for a ransom which had been stipulated, and the amount of which had been fixed by regular agreement. In utter disregard of these obligations, he summoned a meeting of the inhabitants on the 30th of October, and there, while the garrison was drawn up in arms, caused a manifesto to be read, acquainting the English with the injustice which he had resolved to perpetrate, and of which they were forthwith to be made the victims. This infamous document annulled the treaty of ransom, confiscated all the property of the English, and offered them personally only the alternative of remaining on parole as prisoners of war till exchanged, or of being arrested and sent to Pondicherry. Several of them, to escape this disgraceful treatment, disguised themselves and found their way to Fort St. David; but the English governor and a number of the principal inhabitants were actually carried under escort to Pondicherry, and ostentatiously paraded before 50,000 spectators. In a similar spirit the threatened confiscation was executed with the utmost rigour, and many private families were utterly ruined.
Fort St. David, the most important English settlement on the Coromandel coast after Madras, became, on the capture of the latter, the seat of the presidency. The fort, situated 100 miles south of Madras, and fourteen south of Pondicherry, was small but strong, and formed the nucleus of a considerable territory, including within it the important town of Cuddalore. This town, which lies about a mile south of the fort, at the mouth of the Pennar, was surrounded on three sides by a wall flanked with bastions, and, though nearly open to the sea, was separated from it by a narrow belt of sand thrown up by the waves, and skirted on the north and east by a shallow stream. The object of Dupleix being to banish the English entirely from the coast, his task seemed only half finished while Fort St. David remained in their possession. No time, therefore, was lost in fitting out an expedition against it. The command was intended for a Swiss of the name of Paradis, who was recalled for the purpose from Madras, where he had acted as governor under Dupleix, and been the willing instrument of his infamous proceedings. He left Madras in the beginning of December, with 300 Europeans, and had proceeded south about twenty miles, encumbered with ill-gotten booty, when Maphaz Khan, who was burning to revenge his disgrace, suddenly made his appearance at the head of 3,000 horse and 2,000 foot. Great as was the disproportion of numbers, Paradis kept the enemy at bay, and arrived at the Dutch settlement of Sadras, ten miles south of the place, where he was attacked with the loss of only twelve men, who were taken prisoners and paraded by Maphaz Khan as proof of his having obtained a victory. A reinforcement sent from Pondicherry enabled the whole to arrive there without further interruption.
The force destined to act against Fort St. David consisted of 1,700 men, mostly Europeans, with six field-pieces and as many mortars. Before it set out the officers refused to serve under Paradis, and compelled him by a kind of mutiny to resign the command to M. Bury, to whom it was considered to belong by right of seniority. At daybreak on the 9th of December, the Pennar, which falls into the sea about a mile and a half north of the fort, was reached and immediately crossed, with no show of opposition except from a few native soldiers, who fired under cover from the surrounding thickets. A greater resistance had been anticipated, as it was understood that the nabob had entered into close league with the English, and promised a large supply of troops. Assuming that he had not fulfilled, and in all probability was not disposed to fulfil his promise, the French resolved to leave the fort behind, and make a sudden dash at the town of Cuddalore. There seemed little risk, as the garrison of the fort mustered no more than 200 Europeans, and 100 topasses, or natives of Portuguese descent; and the whole force without it, for the defence of the territory, consisted of about 2,000 peons, or native soldiers, not disciplined according to the example which the French had already set, and so imperfectly armed that scarcely 900 of them had muskets.
A few of these peons had been stationed in a garden situated about a quarter of a mile from the place where the French had forded the river. It belonged to a summer residence of the governor of the fort, and was inclosed by a brick wall, which, together with the house and the court of buildings attached to it, might have furnished the means of a vigorous defence. The peons, however, were not capable of making it, and were no sooner attacked than they abandoned the post. The French troops, having now no apprehension of danger, began to refresh themselves from the fatigues of their march, and were sleeping, or cooking, or straggling about without their arms, when a sudden cry arose that an enemy was approaching from the westward. It proved to be a body of 6,000 horse and 3,000 foot belonging to the nabob, and led by his two sons, Maphaz Khan and Muhammed Ali. So great was the consternation of the French, that instead of attempting to profit by their position, they rushed out and made directly for the river, which, owing to the want of skill and courage on the part of their assailants, they crossed without sustaining any serious loss except that of their baggage. The garrison of the fort perceiving their flight sallied out, and, joining the nabob’s troops, continued the pursuit for six miles. The enemy, brought to bay, faced about and offered battle; but it was not thought prudent to attack them, and they were permitted to return unmolested to Pondicherry.
Dupleix, grievously disappointed at the failure of his attempt, determined to renew it in a different form, and secretly despatched 500 men in boats, with instructions to proceed to Cuddalore, and take it by surprise, by entering the river, and landing on the east side, where it had no defences. He had underrated the difficulties. While the boats were passing through the surf, many of the soldiers could only save their lives by throwing aside their arms; and even after they had reached the river, were so overwhelmed by a hard gale from the south, that they thought themselves fortunate in being able to secure their own safety by putting back to sea. Again disappointed, Dupleix turned his arms in a different direction, and commenced a war of devastation within the nabob’s territories adjoining Madras. Mere passion may have suggested this apparently wanton procedure, though subsequent events seem to prove that there was deep design in it. His knowledge of the native character made him perfectly aware that the nabob would dissolve his alliance with the British the moment he was convinced that it was not his interest to maintain it. This was the conviction to which Dupleix was now labouring to bring him. He had little difficulty in succeeding. After a short negotiation, the nabob consented to throw his weight into the French scale, recalled his army from Fort St. David, and sent Maphaz Khan to Pondicherry, where a most pompous reception was given to him, and the new alliance was formally proclaimed.
It now seemed as if the situation of the British on the Coromandel coast was desperate. They had been abandoned by their only ally, and after looking in vain for assistance from home, had almost ceased to hope for it. Ever since the capture of Madras the only relief which had reached them was by a vessel from Ceylon, which, on the 19th of February, 1747, brought a supply of £60,000 in silver for the exhausted treasury, and twenty recruits for the garrison of Fort St. David. This relief, paltry though it was, could not have come more opportunely, for on the 2nd of March the French were again seen approaching. They were the same troops as before, but the former failure had so far humbled the officers that they had been prevailed on to receive Paradis as their commander. On reaching the banks of the Pennar, they were somewhat surprised to find that the passage was to be contested. The garrison, as if a new spirit had been infused into it, had marched boldly out, and stood posted on the opposite bank, with three field-pieces and a troop of horse, composed chiefly of volunteers. A cannonade commenced, and was kept up with some spirit till the evening, when the French effected a passage at a point out of cannon-shot, and the garrison deemed it prudent to retire. By a singular coincidence the garden was again occupied, only to be precipitately abandoned. A number of ships were descried approaching the roads. The French only waited to satisfy themselves that they were English and hastened off for Pondicherry.
It proved to be the long looked for British squadron. It had remained inactive in Bengal, but had at length ventured out, under the command of Admiral Griffin, who had arrived from England with two ships, one of sixty and the other of forty guns. There was no enemy to encounter it; and partly by troops brought with it from Bengal, and partly by subsequent reinforcements from England and Bombay, Fort St. David was garrisoned so strongly as to be beyond the reach of danger. The aspect of affairs had now completely changed, and it was the turn of M. Dupleix to feel alarm. It soon appeared, however, that there was not much cause for it. Admiral Griffin seemed satisfied with his acknowledged supremacy at sea without attempting to derive any benefit from it; and the whole season for action passed away with no more important result than the destruction of a fifty-gun ship which had belonged to Labourdonnais’ squadron, and was lying in the roads of Madras. On the approach of the October monsoon an attempt was made to remain on the coast, but it was found impossible, and all the ships were ultimately obliged to take shelter at Trincomali.
In the beginning of 1748 the squadron returned to Fort St. David, and at the same time Major Lawrence, a British officer of distinguished merit, arrived to take the command of all the Company’s forces in India. For some months nothing of moment occurred. In consequence of a rumour that Dupleix was about to renew his designs on Cuddalore, Major Lawrence formed a camp between the garden already mentioned and the banks of the Pennar. Here he had remained for some time, when the alarming discovery was made, that though not yet disposed to risk a new campaign, the French governor had, with characteristic cunning and duplicity, been endeavouring to prepare for it by tampering with the fidelity of the native troops in British pay. The commander of a body of 400 sepoys sent from the English settlement at Tellicherry had promised to desert with them to the French in the first engagement that should happen; and within the fort itself, an Indian, who had acted as interpreter and agent to the English governor of Madras, was ascertained to have long carried on a treacherous correspondence with the enemy, by communicating with Madame Dupleix in the Malabar tongue. The interpreter and an accomplice suffered death, and the commander of the Tellicherry sepoys, together with ten of their other officers, were banished to St. Helena.
A more honourable warfare than that to which Dupleix had thus stooped was now anticipated. A French squadron of seven large ships and two smaller vessels, which had sailed from the Mauritius in the end of April, were seen on the 10th of June sailing in the direction of Fort St. David. The English fleet in the roads consisted of three ships of sixty, three of fifty, three of forty, and one of twenty guns, and could scarcely have failed, if the enemy had been brought to action, to gain a victory. Unfortunately the admiral and several of his officers were on shore, and so much time elapsed before the ships put to sea, that the opportunity was lost. The French commander, aware of his inferiority, had never intended to fight, and had only assumed the appearance of it, the better to disguise his main object, which was to land 400 soldiers and £200,000 in silver at Pondicherry. Having succeeded in this, he at once quitted the coast, and left Admiral Griffin, after a vain attempt to discover him, to reap the fruits of what he called his bad fortune, but many designated by a harsher name. The latter was the view taken by a court-martial in England, and he was suspended from the service.
The English fleet, while engaged in its fruitless search of the hostile squadron, had arrived at Madras. From the state of wind, some days must necessarily elapse before it could return to Fort St. David; and so bent was Dupleix on effecting the capture in which he had been so often baffled, that he determined to avail himself of the interval in making another attack on Cuddalore. The force employed consisted of 800 Europeans and 1,000 sepoys, who, by pursuing a circuitous route from Pondicherry, arrived in the morning of the 7th of June at the hills of Bandapolam. Cuddalore was only three miles distant, and the plan was to halt till the night, and then come upon it by surprise. Major Lawrence, made aware of what was intended, determined to meet stratagem by stratagem, and caused all the cannon to be brought from Cuddalore into the fort. His object was to make the French believe that he had taken this step because he thought the place untenable, and meant to abandon it without a struggle. The stratagem succeeded; and the French, advancing under the full belief that they were about to make an easy conquest, had actually applied their scaling-ladders to the walls, when a fire of musketry from all the ramparts, and four or five pieces of cannon loaded with grape-shot, opened upon them. The cannon, openly removed by day, had been secretly replaced at nightfall, and the garrison had at the same time been reinforced. Of these facts the French were of course ignorant, and hence their consternation was extreme. The panic seized officers as well as men, and the whole rushed off in headlong flight.
The Indian struggle had hitherto attracted comparatively little notice in England; but at last both the government and the Company had awakened to a full sense of its importance, and resolved to make adequate preparations. A fleet consisting of seven ships of the navy, with a bomb-ship and tender, and eleven ships of the Company, carrying military stores and 1,400 regular troops, sailed from England in November, under the command of Admiral Boscawen. At the Cape of Good Hope it was joined by six ships of the Dutch East India Company, having 400 soldiers on board, and after a considerable detention by contrary winds, proceeded for the Mauritius, which was seen on the 23rd of June. It was expected that both this island and that of Bourbon would fall easy conquests, but the difficulties proved greater than had been anticipated; and after a series of attempts rendered futile by gross blunders, it was resolved by a council of war that, as the capture, even if practicable, was only a secondary object, the armament ought to proceed forthwith to the Coromandel coast, which was its primary destination. It arrived at Fort St. David on the 29th of July, and being joined by the squadron of Admiral Griffin, whose services had entitled him to nothing better than a court-martial, constituted the most powerful naval force which had ever been brought to the East Indies by any European nation. It consisted of thirty ships, thirteen of them ships of the line, and none of them of less than 500 tons burden.
The English at Fort St. David were elated above measure, and felt full of confidence that they were not only about to recover Madras but to avenge all the injustice they had suffered, by the capture of Pondicherry. They might well have this confidence, for they were scarcely less powerful by land than by sea, mustering in all, for service on shore, 3,720 Europeans, 300 topasses, and about 2,000 imperfectly disciplined sepoys. To these was to be added such a force as might be sent by the Nabob of Arcot, who, suspecting that fortune was again to change sides, had cast in his lot with the British. To strike at once at the centre of the French power and influence, Pondicherry was made the very first object of attack. The heavy cannon and cumbrous stores were transported in the ships, which anchored two miles south of the town, while the army continued its course along the shore.
The town of Pondicherry, situated eighty-six miles S.S.W. of Madras, occupied a gentle declivity at the south-east extremity of a long flat hill, and stretched, at the distance of about seventy yards from the shore, rather more than a mile from north to south, and nearly three-quarters of a mile inland. It was at this time one of the best built cities in India, and, when viewed from the sea, presented at once a pleasing and commanding appearance. For the latter it was indebted to several conspicuous public edifices, and more especially to a citadel, which, though of small dimensions, was of considerable strength. It stood within the town, and, along with it, was enclosed on the three sides toward the land by a ditch, and a wall and rampart flanked with bastions. The eastern side, facing the sea, was defended by several batteries, which were capable of mounting 100 cannons, and completely commanded the roadstead. At the distance of a mile from the walls, a large hedge of aloes and other thorny plants, intermingled with cocoa-nut and other palms, commenced on the north at the sea-shore, and was carried round, for above five miles, in a regular curve, by the west and south, till it reached in the latter direction the river of Ariancupan. This hedge, impenetrable to cavalry, and not easily to be passed even by infantry, formed, with the river, which fell into the sea a mile and a half below, a complete line of defence. So carefully had this object been attended to, that at each of the openings made in the hedge for the four roads which led from the town to the surrounding country, there was a redoubt mounted with cannon, and near the point where the hedge joined the river a small fort bearing the same name had been erected.
Owing to the time which had been lost on the outward voyage, partly by contrary winds and partly by the injudicious attempt on the Mauritius, the season was far advanced when the besiegers commenced operations. Every day, therefore, was of the utmost consequence, and not an hour ought to have been spent, except upon some object which would contribute essentially to a successful result. Unfortunately a very different principle of action was adopted, and the troops, instead of proceeding at once to Pondicherry, stopped short at the fort of Ariancupan. From a very extraordinary neglect on the part of the authorities of Fort St. David, no means had been used, though the fleet had long been expected, to obtain such accurate information as would be needed when the siege should commence. Hence, when Ariancupan was approached, no person could be found to give any accurate description of its works or its garrison. An engineer sent to reconnoitre was afraid to go near enough to make the necessary observations, and represented it as a place of no strength, though covered by an entrenchment, while a deserter reported that it was defended only by 100 sepoys. This information was inaccurate, for the fort was a triangle, regularly fortified, and surrounded by a deep dry ditch, full of pitfalls, and the garrison consisted of 100 Europeans and 300 sepoys, under an active European officer. Admiral Boscawen, thus grossly misled, ordered an immediate assault. It was made with the greatest bravery, but with the most disastrous results. The storming party persisted, from mere shame, after they saw that success was impossible, and did not retire till 150 of their number were struck down by musketry and grape-shot, and Major Goodere, the most experienced officer of the king’s troops, was mortally wounded.
This was an ominous commencement, but the next step taken was still more reprehensible. When it was seen that the fort possessed greater means of resistance than had been imagined, there was no necessity for remaining before it. A small detachment would have sufficed to watch it, and prevent any danger that could have arisen from its being left behind. All this was overlooked, and the siege of Pondicherry was postponed till this paltry place could be forced to yield. The French were too skilful not to profit by the egregious blunder, and by holding the fort as long as possible, gained the incalculable advantage of stopping the entire progress of the besiegers during eighteen days. Even at last it was not so much taken as abandoned, in consequence of the accidental explosion of a large quantity of gunpowder.
The besieging army moved from Ariancupan on the 26th of August, and proceeded, after forcing the redoubt which guarded the opening in the hedge leading to the north-west, to prepare for commencing operations in that quarter, the engineers having selected it as the most eligible. To facilitate the communication between the fleet and the camp, the ships were moved to the north of the town. In sieges, the first parallel is usually made within 800 yards of the covered way, but so ignorant were the engineers of the commonest rules of their profession, that when they opened ground on the 30th of August, it was at the distance of 1,500 yards. By slow and laborious steps, they kept creeping on till they reached the distance at which they ought to have begun, and then only made the astounding discovery that they had begun the siege from a wrong direction. Between their works and the town lay a morass, which, by means of a back water, had been flooded. What was now to be done? September was already far spent, and the rainy season would soon commence. To commence anew was impossible, and the only alternative which remained was to retire at once, or to persist in operations which held out little or no promise of success. The former part of the alternative was the wiser, but shame mingled with other considerations to prevent the adoption of it, and by great exertions, during which many lives were lost, two batteries of eighteen and twenty-four pounders, the one of eight and the other of four pieces of cannon, were constructed on the edge of the morass; these were followed by two bomb-batteries. The fire, which would have been crushing at a shorter distance, produced little effect, and was, moreover, returned double by the besiegers. A kind of diversion was attempted by the ships, which began to batter the town, but as those of two tiers could not come nearer than 1,000 yards, their fire never told. According to the French account, the only person killed was an old Malabar woman passing along the street.
The final result was now only too apparent. No impression had been made on the defences, sickness prevailed in the camp, and the rainy season had commenced. The ships ran the risk of being driven off the coast, perhaps wrecked upon it; and the country would in all probability become so flooded, that the removal of the cannon and heavy stores, though still practicable, would soon be impossible. To persist would therefore have been madness, and the decision of a council of war was scarcely necessary to sanction the order which was issued to raise the siege. Five days were employed in the humiliating process, and on the 6th of October, the troops began their march back to Fort St. David. The mortality, by casualty or sickness, had been very great, particularly among the Europeans, of whom 1,065 out of the original 3,720, or very nearly a third of the whole, perished. The survivors, at least those of them who were responsible for the operations, had not the satisfaction of thinking that they had done their duty; for the whole siege, from first to last, exhibited nothing but a tissue of monstrous blunders.
The French garrison, originally 1,800 Europeans and 3,000 sepoys, lost only 200 of the former and about fifty of the latter, and were therefore well entitled to sing their Te Deums. Even Dupleix may be excused for the ostentatious vanity he displayed in sending bombastic letters to all the native princes, including the Mughul himself, intimating how gloriously he had triumphed. There cannot be a doubt that, by the issue of this siege, the reputation of the French for military prowess rose in India far above that of any other European nation, and that many years and signal victories were required to restore to the British the reputation which they had lost.
The British, notwithstanding the disgrace and loss which had befallen them, were still more powerful than their rivals, and might therefore hope for an early opportunity of regaining their laurels. Pondicherry was beyond their reach, but Madras remained to be recovered. That this would be the next object attempted, was in itself sufficiently probable. Though captured fairly by Labourdonnais, the retention of it was a gross fraud. Of this Dupleix himself could not but be conscious, and hence it is easy to understand how unwilling he was, after incurring infamy in order to obtain the possession of it, to incur the risk of having it again wrested from him. His anxiety to retain thus equalling the eagerness of the original possessors to recover, he exerted himself in strengthening its defences. At first, indeed, he acted as if he had resolved to raze it entirely to the ground, and commenced the work of destruction by laying the black town in ashes. Very inconsistently with this proceeding, he shortly after began to make improvements on the white town, and had rendered it much more capable than before of standing a siege, when he had the mortification to learn that all his labour was in vain, as Madras was about to return untransomed and improved to its former possessors. Hostilities between Great Britain and France had been terminated by the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and possession was to be restored as nearly as might be to the state in which it was at the commencement of the war. It would be difficult, and is not necessary, to decide how far the interests of the two rival companies were beneficially or injuriously affected by the treaty of peace. In some respects both were gainers. The British recovered Madras; the French escaped from the disasters which were evidently impending over them, in consequence of the maritime supremacy which their rivals had established.
Now that the sword had been sheathed, and there was neither necessity nor pretext for keeping up powerful and expensive armaments, the natural course for all parties would have been to abandon all schemes of territorial aggrandisement, and confine themselves, in accordance with their original profession, to the peaceful pursuits of commerce. On the other hand, there were strong temptations to deviate from this course. The Mughul empire was only the shadow of what it had once been; in all quarters chiefs who had formerly been subordinate were aspiring to independence, and, to all appearance, a general scramble for territory was about to ensue. Under such circumstances, why should the two most powerful nations of Europe consent to have their hands tied up, and to remain inactive spectators of a struggle in which their interests, perhaps their very existence was involved? Why should they not become, if not principals, at least auxiliaries, and give—or, not to mince the matter—sell their skill and prowess to the party able and willing to pay for them most liberally? Such thoughts had long been familiar to Dupleix, whose imagination was warmed, and ambition inflamed, while he contemplated the possibility of associating his name with the establishment of a French Indian empire. The superiority of the forces which he could bring into the field could no longer be called in question. With a mere handful of men he had already put armies to flight. Haughty chiefs, who formerly despised him, had crouchingly courted his alliance, and he had only to temper force with policy, in order to compel or persuade them to acknowledge him as their master. In the English Company no individual had yet appeared in a position which permitted him to entertain, or pointed him out to others as destined to realize similar views; but there can be no doubt that, both at home and abroad, territorial aggrandisement in India was by many contemplated as practicable, and longed for as most desirable. The question of aggrandisement being thus virtually decided in the affirmative, both by France and England, the contest for Indian supremacy did not cease, but only changed its form, in consequence of the peace; and the troops of the two nations, no longer permitted to turn their arms directly against each other, had recourse to the expedient of doing it indirectly, by taking opposite sides in native quarrels. To show in what manner, to what extent, and with what results this was done, it will now be necessary to give some account of that portion of Southern India where this species of armed neutrality between the British and French was first exhibited.