THE CARNATIC

THE Carnatic, anciently called Canara, properly denotes the tract of country where the Canara language is spoken, but has long since lost its original application, and has two principal meanings, one more extensive, and the other more limited; the former, including under it nearly the whole of the south-eastern portion of the Indian peninsula, from the Krishna to Cape Comorin, and the latter adopting the same northern limit, but not descending further south than the country immediately north of the Coleroon, and at the same time so confining it on the west as not to leave it an average breadth of more than seventy-five miles. In this latter sense the Carnatic is nearly identical with the territory which, under the Mughul empire, formed one of the principal provinces of the subah or government of the Deccan, and was administered by the subahdar’s nabob or deputy, under the title of the Nabob of Arcot, the whole nabobship taking its name from Arcot, the capital. The country thus defined consists of two portions, differing greatly in their physical features, and distinguished from each other by the names of Balaghat and Pavinghat, or the land above and land beneath the mountain passes. The Balaghat, covered by a portion of the Eastern Ghats, is elevated, and forms a kind of table-land, not so much traversed by continuous ridges as broken up by isolated hills and mountains, rising in precipitous masses, and not unfrequently separated from each other by deep ravines. The Pavinghat, on the contrary, is a maritime flat, little elevated above sea level, and traversed by the beds of numerous streams, generally dry during the hot, but filled to overflowing during the rainy season. Immediately south of the nabobship of Arcot, and separated from it by a boundary not well defined, were the two rajaships or Hindu states of Trichinopoly and Tanjore, which, though governed by their own princes, were so far dependent on the Nabob of Arcot, who levied tribute from them, not indeed in his own name, but as the deputy of the Mughul.

The nabobship of Arcot was held from 1710 to 1732 by an able and popular chief, of the name of Sadatulla, or, more properly, Sadat Ulla Khan. The office was not recognized as hereditary. It was held by commission from Delhi, but in the event of the Mughul not exercising, or delaying to exercise the right of nomination, a temporary appointment was made by the Subahdar of the Deccan. Such was the regular mode of procedure when the Mughul empire was in vigour; but in the state of decay into which it had fallen, the imperial commission was regarded as only a form, and the right of appointment was tacitly, if not overtly contested between the Subahdar and the nabob, the one claiming it as his prerogative, and the other striving to render it hereditary in his family. Sadat Ulla having no issue, had adopted the two sons of his brother, and left a will by which he destined the nabobship to Dost Ali, the elder, and the subordinate government of Vellore to Bakar Ali the younger. By the same deed he conferred the office of dewan or prime minister on Ghulam Hussain, the nephew of his favourite wife. Nizam-ul-Mulk, who, as has been already seen, regarded himself as independent sovereign of the Deccan, not having been consulted in these appointments, regarded them as encroachments on his authority, but, owing to other political entanglements at the time, was not in a position to give effect to his resentment.

Dost Ali, at the time of his succession, had two sons, of whom the elder, Safdar Ali, was arrived at man’s estate, and several daughters, one of whom was married to Murtaza Khan, or Mortiz Ali, his brother’s son, and another to a distant relation of the name of Chanda Sahib, whose daughter by a former marriage was the wife of the above Ghulam Hussain, Dost Ali’s dewan. Chanda Sahib, thus son-in-law to the nabob and father-in-law to his minister, naturally possessed great influence at court. His ambition tempted, and his talents enabled him to make the most of it. Ere long, under a pretext of assisting his father-in-law in administering the office of dewan, he had managed to supplant him. Not satisfied with the civil power thus placed entirely in his hands, he aspired to military power also, and obtained it by ingratiating himself with the soldiers.

The Raja of Trichinopoly had died, like Sadat Ulla, in 1732, and, like him, also without issue. He had destined the succession to his first wife, but it was claimed by a collateral male heir, who, by the support of the commander-in-chief, pushed the rani, or queen, to the desperate step of soliciting the aid of the Nabob of Arcot. It was readily granted; and an army entered the rajaship, ostensibly for the purpose of collecting the accustomed tribute, but with a secret understanding that it was to support the queen. It was commanded by Safdar Ali and Chanda Sahib, and gradually approached the capital, where the queen still held possession, but by a tenure so precarious, that the admission of a portion of the nabob’s troops was deemed necessary to her safety. She was well aware of the danger which she thus incurred, and took what she conceived to be an effectual security against it, by requiring Chanda Sahib, who conducted the negotiation, to take an oath on the Koran, that the admitted troops should be employed solely to re-establish her authority, and then be withdrawn. He took the oath, but having no intention to keep it, took it only on a brick wrapped up in the usual splendid covering of the Koran, and no sooner gained possession than he made the rani prisoner, and hoisted the Muhammadan flag. Measures had been so effectually taken, not only in the fortress of Trichinopoly, but at various other stations, that the whole country submitted without resistance to this abominable treachery.

Safdar Ali returned home, leaving Chanda Sahib as governor. The office of dewan of Arcot having thus become vacant, was conferred on Mir Assad, Safdar Ali’s preceptor, who, well aware of Chanda Sahib’s ambitious character, quickly perceived the serious blunder which had been committed in making him ruler of Trichinopoly. It was more than probable that he would be tempted to revolt, and then the tribute withheld would be the least part of the loss, as the independence of the nabobship itself would be endangered. These representations had their full effect on Safdar Ali, but were lost on his father, Dost Ali, who, besides being of an indolent temper, was disposed to judge Chanda Sahib more favourably, and refused to sanction any proceedings against him. The fact, however, that such proceedings had been urged, was not lost on Chanda Sahib, who immediately took measures for his protection, by putting Trichinopoly in a complete state of defence, and intrusting tried friends with his other most important stations.

Safdar Ali and Mir Assad, unable to obtain the nabob’s concurrence in their designs against Chanda Sahib, determined to pursue them without his knowledge, and entered into a negotiation with the Marathas. The plan was, that the Marathas, under the pretext of levying the chauth which the nabob had withheld, should invade his territories, and then, when Chanda Sahib came to his relief, as it was anticipated he would, suddenly unite their forces with Safdar Ali, and make a dash at Trichinopoly. By this intricate and tortuous policy, they overshot the mark. Dost Ali, knowing nothing of underhand arrangements with the Marathas, saw only that his territories were attacked, and, with more spirit than might have been expected from his age and habits, took post with a handful of men in a pass which was supposed, though erroneously, to be the only one through which the invaders could descend into the low country. He was here encountered, defeated, and slain. Safdar Ali, who had misgivings as to the course which the Marathas might pursue, retired, on hearing his father’s fate, to Vellore, while Chanda Sahib, who had been advancing into Arcot with an auxiliary force, hastened back to secure his own interests at Trichinopoly.

The Marathas, aware of the advantage which they had gained, thought no more of their engagements with Safdar Ali, and, as a means of forcing him to any terms which they were pleased to dictate, commenced their usual system of plunder and devastation. Safdar, anxious above all things to be immediately confirmed in the succession which had opened to him by his father’s death, complied with all their demands, and purchased their departure by agreeing to pay them, by instalments, 10,000,000 rupees, equivalent to £1,000,000 sterling. This was the only part of the treaty made public, but there was another article, kept secret for very obvious reasons, which handed over Chanda Sahib to their mercy, and left them free to appropriate as much of his territory as they could conquer at their own expense.

On the first news of the invasion of the Marathas, the late nabob, as well as Safdar Ali and Chanda Sahib, sent their families and treasure to Pondicherry, which they justly regarded as far stronger and every way more secure than any native fortress. Chanda Sahib, moreover, laid in a large store of grain at Trichinopoly, which, if it could not be starved out, promised to withstand any effort which the Marathas could make to take it. The Marathas seemed to be of this opinion; for immediately on their treaty with Safdar Ali, they turned their faces northwards, and commenced their journey, as if determined to lose no time in regaining their homes. It was a mere stratagem. They had calculated that Chanda Sahib, as soon as convinced that they were really gone, would consider his stores of grain unnecessary, and turn them into money. It was so; and though they had proceeded 250 miles north-west of Trichinopoly, they made sure of their prize by hastening back, and completely blockading the fortress. Famine made defence impossible; and after a siege of three months, it was compelled to surrender at discretion, on the 26th of March, 1741. The Marathas left 14,000 men, under Murari Rao, to guard their conquest, and carried off Chanda Sahib, whom they confined in a strong fort in the vicinity of Satara.

Safdar Ali, when relieved from the alarm which Chanda Sahib had given, saw himself threatened by a still more formidable enemy. Nizam-ul-Mulk had returned to the Deccan, and had given him to understand that, as an indispensable condition to his being confirmed as nabob, he must pay up all the arrears of tribute which had accrued since the death of Sadat Ulla. His first step, on receiving this intimation, was to remove his family and treasures to Madras. He had formerly lodged them in Pondicherry, but circumstances had transpired to convince him that an understanding existed between Chanda Sahib and Dupleix, and that as his interest was decidedly opposite to that of the former, his true safety lay in courting an alliance with the only nation which seemed capable to counteract the designs of the latter.

Safdar Ali, after he had secured his treasures in Madras, endeavoured to propitiate Nizam-ul-Mulk by pleading poverty. The Marathas had impoverished the country, both by pillage and the immense contribution which they had exacted; and his finances were in consequence so depressed, that he had serious thoughts of retiring from the world altogether, and spending the remainder of his days at Mecca. It is not likely that Nizam-ul-Mulk would have allowed himself to be defeated of his purpose by such pretences, but Safdar Ali was not destined to feel the effects of this resentment, for he perished shortly after by the hands of an assassin. The crime was generally believed to have been instigated by Mortiz Ali, who immediately caused himself to be proclaimed nabob; but, unable to stand the storm of indignation which his atrocious conduct raised, was obliged to save himself by flight. Muhammed Saaed, an infant son of Safdar Ali, was immediately brought forward by the army, and, contrary to expectation, was confirmed as his father’s successor, by Nizam-ul-Mulk, who, at last, in 1743, made out his promised, or rather threatened visit to Arcot, by marching into it with an army of 80,000 horse and 200,000 foot. His presence was not unnecessary, for the country was rapidly verging towards anarchy. Every petty chief was affecting independence; and on one day no fewer than eighteen individuals, bearing the title of nabob, presented themselves to do homage to Nizam-ul-Mulk, who gave vent to his surprise and indignation by declaring that he always imagined there was only one nabob in the Carnatic, and that he would whip any of his chobdars, or goldsticks-in-waiting, who announced an individual under that title.

As Nizam-ul-Mulk was bent on founding a new dynasty in the Deccan, he probably judged it good policy to give an exemplification of the hereditary principle in appointing to the nabobship, and was therefore easily induced to overlook any irregularities in the nomination of Muhammed Saaed. At the same time, he made little sacrifice, as he retained possession of the person of the infant nabob, and administered the government by one of his officers, Khoja Abdulla, as deputy. After this arrangement, he marched with his whole army to Trichinopoly to expel the Marathas, and succeeded, by presents and promises, without being obliged to strike a blow. Having thus settled matters to his satisfaction, he returned to Golkunda. Khoja Abdulla, who had accompanied him, remained in command of the army till the spring of 1744, when he took formal leave, with the intention of resuming the government of Arcot. The very next day he was found dead in his bed, without visible marks, but certainly not without the suspicion of poison. Assuming that he was poisoned, public opinion agreed in fixing the crime on the person who profited most by it.

This was Anwar-ud-din, who immediately stepped into the place which had belonged to Khoja Abdulla, and lost no time in setting out for Arcot. The young nabob, however, still stood in his way. It is almost needless to say that it was not long, and that another assassination, to which Anwar-ud-din and the infamous Mortiz Ali were believed to be the instigators, made the nabobship once more vacant. Anwar-ud-din was forthwith confirmed in the office, no longer as deputy but as principal. He was, however, most unpopular. The stain which was fixed on him as the supposed murderer or associate in the murder of Muhammed Saaed could not be wiped away by all his protestations; and the inhabitants of the nabobship could not be reconciled to one who, even if he could be supposed innocent of the murder, did in fact owe his government to the extinction of their favourite race of native princes.

It has already been seen how Anwar-ud-din interfered in the hostilities between the British and the French, and passed from the one side to the other according as he imagined that his interest might be affected. Owing to his uncertain and vacillating conduct, Dupleix appears to have become satisfied that, as he could never be useful to him as an ally, the true policy would be to cripple him as an enemy, by giving him full employment at home. The most effectual means for this purpose were easily discovered. Chanda Sahib was still a prisoner with the Marathas, but had so many powerful connections in Arcot, that could he obtain his liberty, and be set up as a claimant for the nabobship, he would probably carry the national feeling along with him. In the event of his success, French interests might be greatly extended by express stipulations previously entered into for that purpose; and even in the event of his failure, more opportunities might occur of forming new and valuable connections with native powers. A scheme so much in accordance with the ambitious views which Dupleix had long entertained was not to be delayed, and he therefore began at once to give effect to it by employing some of the members of Chanda Sahib’s family, still resident in Pondicherry, as the medium of communication. Chanda Sahib, as might be expected, gladly embraced a proposal which promised at the very outset to give him his freedom. The Marathas were equally inclined to come to terms. So long as Safdar Ali lived they had a special interest in detaining their prisoner, because if they allowed him to escape, the instalments to which they were entitled under their treaty would not be paid. Since his death the case had altered; for Anwar-ud-din, thinking perhaps that he could set the Marathas at defiance, positively refused to fulfil the obligations undertaken by his predecessor. The Marathas, therefore, had no longer any interest in detaining Chanda Sahib, and readily struck the bargain by which Dupleix agreed to pay a very heavy ransom for him. The sum is said to have been 700,000 rupees (£70,000).

Chanda Sahib, attended by his son Aabid Sahib, a few friends who had clung to him in misfortune, and a small Maratha force, left Satara in the beginning of 1748, and proceeded south by slow steps, hoping to be able gradually to rally an army around him. On reaching the Krishna, the Rajas of Chitteldrug and of Bednore, then at open war, applied to him for aid. He gave it to the former; and on the 24th of March a battle took place at Myaconda, in which he was defeated and taken prisoner, and his son was slain. He was carried in triumph to Bednore, but soon regained his liberty, and saw his fortunes suddenly assume a promising appearance at the moment when they seemed to have become desperate. On the very day when the battle of Myaconda was fought, Nizam-ul-Mulk died. Anwar-ud-din thus lost his protector at the time when he stood most in need of him; and Chanda Sahib obtained powerful assistance from a quarter to which he had never looked for it. It will be necessary, however, before entering on the series of events occasioned by the death of Nizam-ul-Mulk, to attend to a transaction which occurred about the same time, and in which the English East India Company became committed to a course of policy at variance with that which they had previously professed to pursue.

Shortly after hostilities ceased between the British and French, a native prince of the name of Saujohi arrived at Fort St. David, and applied for aid to reinstate him on the throne of Tanjore. Seven years had elapsed since he had lost it, and yet, according to his own account, he was not only the lawful heir, but so powerfully supported that he had only to appear at the head of a small force in order to insure success. His application was certainly made at a favourable time. Peace had been suddenly proclaimed, when the British, ashamed of their discomfiture at Pondicherry, were earnestly longing for an opportunity of regaining their laurels. A large body of troops was assembled and ready for action; but, according to all appearance, from the mere want of an enemy to fight with, they would be obliged to return to Europe without having performed a single achievement. It is not wonderful that under such circumstances the application of Saujohi was welcomed by many. The motives which influenced them, however, were not such as the governor and council of the presidency could adopt, and their resolution to give assistance was placed on very different grounds. Besides endeavouring to secure the Company against loss by binding Saujohi if successful to bear the whole expense of the war, they also stipulated for the cession of the fort of Devicotta, advantageously situated at the mouths of the Coleroon, and of the district attached to it. On such low grounds, and for such selfish objects the Company were made to appear for the first time in the very questionable character of mere mercenaries, lending out their troops for hire, and sending them to spend their blood in a native quarrel with which they had no concern.

The kingdom of Tanjore, in which this injudicious campaign was to be carried on, consisted of a tract extending from the Coleroon southwards along the coast about seventy, and inland about sixty miles. It had fallen into the hands of the Marathas in the time of Sivaji, and was appropriated by his brother, Venkaji, who died after a reign of six years, leaving three sons. It passed to all of them in succession in the order of their birth. But on the death of the last, as they had all left children, a number of rival claimants appeared, and a civil war ensued, during which three irregular successions took place within seven years. The whole power of the government had been usurped by Sayyid, the commander of the fort of Tanjore, who set up puppet kings at pleasure. In this way Saujohi, after wearing the crown for several years, had been set aside to make way for Pratap Singh, his illegitimate brother. It is obvious from this account that the actual possessor of the throne of Tanjore at the time when Saujohi made his application at Fort St. David was an usurper; but this affords no justification of the conduct of the governor and council, who had no right to embroil the Company in a war for mercenary objects, and who had, moreover, on several occasions not only recognized him as sovereign, but courted his alliance.

The force by which it was expected that Saujohi would recover the kingdom of Tanjore, consisted of 430 Europeans and 1,000 sepoys, with four field-pieces and four small mortars. The troops, accompanied by Saujohi, and commanded by Captain Cope, set out in the end of March, 1749; the battering cannon and provisions proceeded by sea in four ships, two of them of the line. Much time appears to have been lost, for it was the 13th of April before the army encamped on the banks of the Valaru, near its mouth at Porto Novo, though the distance from Fort St. David did not exceed twenty miles. Time, however, was not the most serious loss. The wrong season had been chosen. The change of monsoon from north to south took place on the very evening of their arrival, and was accompanied with a dreadful hurricane, which continued to rage till four o’clock next morning, and with such fury, that many of the draught bullocks and horses were killed, the tents of the camp were blown to rags, and all the military stores were much damaged. At sea the ravages of the storm were still greater. The Pembroke, a sixty-gun ship belonging to the expedition, was wrecked, only six of her crew escaping. It was in the same storm that the Namur, of seventy-four guns, on which Admiral Boscawen’s flag was hoisted, and the finest ship of her size in the English navy, perished with 750 men.

After another delay, rendered necessary by a march to Porto Novo to repair the damage which had been sustained, Captain Cope reached the northern branch of the Coleroon. Here he encamped and entrenched, because he was afraid to advance till better informed of the kind of reception that might be anticipated. It soon appeared that Saujohi’s representations were not to be confirmed. No persons of rank declared for him, and not a single squadron joined his standard, while Pratap Singh’s troops were seen moving up and down on the opposite bank as if to dispute the passage. Captain Cope thought it imprudent to put them to the test, and remained where he was, till he was reinforced from Fort St. David with 100 Europeans and 500 sepoys. He now ventured to proceed, and discovered that he might safely have done it before, as scarcely any resistance was offered. Difficulties, however, soon multiplied upon him. The line of march was through a thick wood, which exposed them to a galling fire from parties of the enemy concealed in it, while the open plains were covered with large bodies of horse and foot moving on their flanks and rear. The position was really perilous, and seemed still more so because the English troops who had not before been brought face to face with an Indian army, naturally overrated the advantage which it derived from vast superiority of numbers. A general alarm was consequently felt, an alarm which might have grown to a fatal panic, had not the steadiness of the artillery kept the enemy at bay while a retreat to the river was effected. Here a council of war was deliberating whether to proceed or wait, when positive orders from Admiral Boscawen to advance on Devicotta at all events, left no alternative. Happily, a line of road, leading through a comparatively open country along the banks of the river to the sea-coast, was accidentally discovered by some of the soldiers. Pursuing it without much annoyance, the troops, after a march of ten miles, halted in the evening a mile east of the town.

The ships were anchored near the mouths of the river, not more than four miles from the camp, and yet so imperfectly were the means of intelligence provided, that they were not aware of each other’s presence. The excuse afterwards given was that the intervening ground was low and covered with trees. What was now to be done? The battering cannon was on board the ships, and the troops had only three days’ provisions. A sudden assault could not succeed, as the walls were too high to be escaladed; a proposal to advance the field-pieces by night, and gain an entrance by battering in the gates, was rejected, perhaps because it was too rational for Captain Cope to approve of it; and the childish resolution was adopted of trying to terrify the place into a surrender by throwing shells into it. In two nights of this foolish work all the shells were expended, and nothing now remained but retreat. It was accomplished with much more difficulty and loss than the advance; and the troops, after a long and harassing march, returned to Fort St. David, with nothing better to detail than misfortunes and blunders.

The presidency having undertaken the cause of Saujohi, had still two, and only two, honourable courses before them. The one was to persevere in his name; the other was to abandon the contest altogether. Declining both these courses, they devised a third, which, though it enabled them ultimately to gain their object, left a stain on their reputation. They made no scruple of abandoning Saujohi, but felt a stronger longing than ever for Devicotta. It was determined, therefore, to wrest it from its rightful owners, at all events, whether by force or fear. A new expedition was accordingly fitted out, and with much more prudence than before. It was commanded by Major Lawrence, the officer of highest reputation in India, and escaped the fatigue and dangers of a land march, by proceeding at once to the scene of action by sea. Six ships, three of them of the line, carried the Europeans, 800 in number, with the artillery and baggage; while 1,500 sepoys accompanied them in large boats used by the natives for coasting. Having arrived and anchored in the mouth of the Coleroon, the troops and stores proceeded in boats up the arm leading to Devicotta, and were landed on the bank opposite to it. This position was chosen, both because the ground on the other side was marshy, and the Tanjore army lay encamped under the walls.

The fort, about a mile in circuit, formed an irregular hexagon, inclined by a brick wall eighteen feet high, and flanked by square or circular towers. The attack was made on the eastern side by four twenty-four pounders, and in three days the breach was pronounced practicable. The great difficulty now was to cross the stream, which besides being dangerous from its rapidity, had woody banks, from which the enemy were prepared to defend the passage. It was ultimately effected by John Moor, a ship-carpenter, who not only contrived a raft capable of carrying 400 men, but swam the river during a very dark night with a rope, which was attached without being seen to the root of a large tree on the one side and to the raft on the other. By this contrivance the whole troops were transported, and soon succeeded in clearing the thickets. The enemy had not attempted to repair the breach, but learning from it the direction in which the final attempt would be made, endeavoured to counteract it by forming an entrenchment, which stretched from the banks of the river across this side of the fort. This entrenchment, though not finished when the troops crossed, presented a serious obstacle to further progress, the more especially that in front of it there was a deep and miry rivulet. The attack, however, was resolved upon; and Clive, who had finally quitted the civil for the military service, and attained the rank of lieutenant, volunteered to conduct it. His offer was accepted, and he advanced to the rivulet with a platoon of thirty-four Europeans and 700 sepoys. The Europeans and part of the sepoys having crossed without much difficulty, Clive hastened on to take the entrenchment in flank at that part where it remained unfinished. The Europeans kept close by him, but the sepoys who had passed remained at the rivulet, waiting till their companions from the other side should join them. Clive and his handful of Europeans thus left their rear completely exposed. The enemy at once saw their advantage; and a party of horse, who had stood concealed on the south side between the projections of the towers, rushed out and were within a few yards of the platoon, before they saw their danger, or could face about to meet it. In an instant, twenty-six of the party were cut down; only four escaped. Clive, reserved for greater things, was one of them. A horseman had lifted his sword to strike him, but he escaped the blow by stepping nimbly aside.

On this disaster, Major Lawrence lost no time in advancing with all the Europeans in a compact body. The trench was easily carried, and the Tanjorines, after attempting in vain to repeat the manoeuvre which had proved so fatal to Clive’s little band, began to save themselves by flight. No resistance was offered at the breach, and the fort when entered was found completely evacuated. The real object of the expedition being now accomplished, the presidency had no longer any taste for Tanjorine warfare, and only kept up a show of hostilities till they should be able to secure their new conquest by regular treaty. It was not necessary to wait long, for the king, though naturally indignant at having been involved in hostilities with a foreign power which he had done nothing to provoke, had no inclination to continue them. On proposing terms of accommodation he was surprised and delighted to learn that the claims of a rival to his crown were not to be insisted on, and that if a pension of 4,000 rupees was settled on Saujohi, for the sake of saving appearances, effectual steps would be taken to prevent him from giving any further trouble. In short, the presidency, instead of continuing to be his protectors, would condescend to act as his jailers. In return for their generosity in thus sacrificing him, all they asked for themselves was Devicotta, together with as much of the adjoining territory as would yield an annual revenue of 9,000 pagodas (about £350), and also the expenses of the war! This last stipulation, all things considered, was utterly disgraceful to those who exacted it; but the king was not in a condition to resist, for events had just taken place in Arcot which made him aware that he might soon be engaged in a deadly struggle with still more formidable enemies.

As Clive was first brought prominently into notice during this Tanjore campaign, it will be proper in concluding it to prepare for the remarkable career on which he was now about to enter, by giving some details of his earlier life.

Robert Clive, the eldest of a family of six sons and seven daughters, was born on the 29th of September, 1725, at the mansion of a small estate called Styche, situated in the parish of Moreton-Say, near Market-Drayton, in Shropshire. His father, Richard Clive, possessed the above estate, and added to the rather scanty income which he derived from it by practising as a lawyer; his mother was Rebecca, daughter of Nathaniel Gaskill, of Manchester. In this city he spent his childhood in the family of Mr. Bayley, who had married his mother’s sister. According to this gentleman he was in his seventh year of a fierce and imperious temper, and “out of measure addicted” to fighting. From Manchester he was sent while yet very young to a school at Lostocke, in Cheshire, taught by Dr. Eaton, who is said to have predicted, that if “he lived to be a man, and opportunity enabled him to exert his talents, few names would be greater than his.” From Lostocke he removed, at the age of eleven, to a school at Market-Drayton, where he took a lead among his schoolfellows for mischief and daring, and was one morning seen seated on a stone spout near the top of its lofty steeple. A few years later he attended the Merchant Tailors’ School in London. His last school was at Hemel-Hempstead, in Hertfordshire, where he was in 1743, when he was appointed a writer in the service of the East India Company.

His destination was Madras, which he reached late in 1744. The voyage was tedious, but he appears to have turned his time to good account, for during a nine months’ detention of the ship at Brazil he made himself familiar with the Portuguese language. His letters, written to his friends at home shortly after he had entered on the duties of his office, display a kindly, thoughtful, manly spirit, and are so well expressed as to justify a doubt of the accuracy of the statement which has been made, that he idled away his time at school, and was in consequence very imperfectly educated. To one he says, “I must confess, at intervals, when I think of my dear native England, it affects me in a very particular manner; however, knowing it to be for my own welfare, I rest content and patient, wishing the views for which my father sent me here may, in all respects, be fully accomplished.” To a cousin of his own age he opens his heart more fully, and writes as follows:—“I really think the advantages which accrue to us here are greatly overbalanced by the sacrifices we make of our constitutions. I have not been unacquainted with the fickleness of fortune, and may safely say, I have not enjoyed one happy day since I left my native country. I am not acquainted with any one family in the place, and have not assurance enough to introduce myself without being asked. If the state I am now in will admit of any happiness, it must be when I am writing to my friends. Letters surely were first invented for the comfort of such solitary wretches as myself.”

These extracts have a tinge of the melancholy to which he was constitutionally subject, and which was doubtless aggravated not merely by the loneliness referred to in them, but also by an employment to which he appears from the very first to have had a decided aversion. As yet the character of the Company was almost entirely mercantile, and the writer spent his time very much as ordinary clerks do in large commercial establishments. While thus employed Clive’s temper occasionally gave way, and the secretary under whom writers were placed on their first arrival was so offended at something he had said or done, that he complained of him to the governor. He was ordered to ask the secretary’s pardon, and complied; but shortly after, when that gentleman with great kindness, wishing to bury the past in oblivion, invited him to dinner, he received the ungracious, surly, and half vindictive answer, “No, sir; the governor did not command me to dine with you.” Other intemperate acts, hazarding the loss of his situation, are recorded; and he is even said to have made an attempt on his own life. The account given is, that an acquaintance calling upon him was asked to take up a pistol which was lying in the room, and fire it out of the window. On seeing that it went off, Clive, who was sitting in a very gloomy mood, started up, as if astonished, and exclaimed, “Well, I am reserved for something! That pistol I have twice snapped at my own head.” The last act of his life makes this story not improbable, and yet it cannot be considered as perfectly authenticated.

If want of congenial employment was one of the main causes of this wild and reckless conduct, the remedy was at hand. Labourdonnais’ attack on Madras in 1746 must, for the time at least, have converted every servant of the Company within it into a soldier. No record remains of the manner in which Clive comported himself, but it can scarcely be doubted that had defence been attempted he would have been found among the foremost. As it was, he only shared the fate of his fellows, and was still resident in the town as a prisoner of war, when Dupleix, by grossly violating the terms of capitulation, freed him from his parole, and left him at liberty to consult his convenience or safety in any way he pleased. On this occasion he was one of those who escaped, disguised as natives, and succeeded in reaching Fort St. David. Here, shortly after his arrival, he became involved in a transaction which gave him more notoriety than fame. Two officers, who had won money at cards, were strongly suspected of having played unfairly, but most of the losers were terrified into payment. Clive, who was one of them, was not to be so bullied, and distinctly declared that he would not pay, simply because the money was not fairly won. The officer whom he thus accused challenged him. The parties met, it is said, without seconds. Clive having fired and missed; his antagonist came up, and holding the pistol to his head, told him to ask his life. He did so, and was then told that he must also retract his charge of unfair play. He refused, and when the pistol was again placed at his head exclaimed, “Fire, and be—I said you cheated; I say so still, and I will never pay you.” The officer, in astonishment, threw away his pistol, saying that Clive was mad.

It is probable that at Fort St. David Clive resumed his occupation as a writer, but it was only as a temporary expedient. He had found his true vocation, and in 1747 obtained an ensign’s commission. The hopes already entertained of him appear from the letter of the court of directors of this year to the presidency of Madras. After alluding to the capture by Labourdonnais, they say, “Be sure to encourage Ensign Clive in his martial pursuits, according to his merit: any improvement he shall make therein shall be duly regarded by us.” His first recorded service after he obtained his commission was at the mismanaged siege of Pondicherry, where he attracted much notice by activity and gallantry. Strange to say, rumour at this very time charged him with an act of cowardice. While posted at a battery the ammunition failed, and he ran off to bring it, instead of sending a sergeant or corporal. An officer maliciously insinuated that it was not zeal but fear that had made him run. Clive, the moment he was made aware of the insinuation, called upon the officer to disavow it, and on receiving only an unsatisfactory explanation challenged him. While they were on the way to the place of meeting, some irritating words passed, and he was struck by his opponent. Their swords were instantly drawn, but some persons present interfered and prevented them from fighting. Their conduct was made the subject of a court of inquiry, and as the falsehood and malignity of the insinuation were easily proved, the author of it was ordered to ask Clive’s pardon in front of the battalion to which they both belonged. Here the matter ought to have rested, but as no notice had been taken of the blow, Clive insisted that satisfaction was still due. On its being refused, he waved his cane over the head of his antagonist and branded him as a coward. It would seem that he really was so; for he submitted to the disgrace, and next day resigned his commission.

The details now given bring down the narrative of Clive’s life to the date of the second Tanjore campaign, in which he has been seen volunteering to lead the assault on Devicotta, and making a hairbreadth escape with his life during the act of daring. The insight thus far obtained into his character disposes us to regard him as a man of a gloomy cast of mind, and a hot, irritable temper; jealous of his honour, and quick to resent an injury; bold even to foolhardiness, yet collected in the midst of danger; never losing his presence of mind, but always performing his part fearlessly, with indomitable energy and perseverance. As yet little opportunity has been given for the display of these qualities, but they will soon find a proper sphere, and make their possessor the hero of great events.

In concluding the account of the Tanjore campaign, it was observed that the king’s submission to the harsh and unjust terms imposed upon him was partly owing to the danger with which he was threatened from another quarter. The events in which this danger originated must now be explained. Nizam-ul-Mulk left six sons. At his death, Ghazi-ud-din, the eldest, was high in office at the court of Delhi, and easily obtained from the emperor, Ahmed Shah, a confirmation of his succession to the subah of the Deccan. Other engagements, however, prevented him from attempting immediately to take possession, and rival claimants, taking advantage of his absence, began to contest the succession. On the one side, Nazir Jung, as the second son of Nizam-ul-Mulk, pretended to have become lawful heir by an alleged renunciation of his elder brother; on the other side, Hedayet Mohi-ud-din Khan, afterwards known by his title of Muzaffar Jung (Victorious in War), though only the son of Nizam-ul-Mulk’s daughter, claimed in virtue of an alleged will, by which his grandfather, with whom he had always been a special favourite, had left him the subah of the Deccan and the greatest part of his treasures. Nazir Jung had the start of his competitor, and gaining possession of the treasures, possessed the most effectual means of securing the favour of the army. Muzaffar Jung’s cause had in consequence become almost hopeless, when he was unexpectedly joined by Chanda Sahib, who, encouraged by promises of aid from Dupleix, was preparing to contest the right to the nabobship of Arcot with Anwar-ud-din. The union between Muzaffar Jung and Chanda Sahib was founded not only on mutual interests, but also on similarity of fortunes, inasmuch as they were both claiming on a female title.

The combined forces, forming a respectable army, immediately advanced to the frontiers of the Carnatic, and were there joined by a powerful reinforcement from Pondicherry. It consisted of 400 Europeans and 2,000 sepoys, under the command of M. d’Auteuil, who had been allowed by the blundering of the nabob to make their march across the low country without molestation. Seeing the aid given to his enemies by the French, Anwar-ud-din’s natural course would have been to strengthen himself by an alliance with the English; but whether he was so confident in his own might that he disdained to ask assistance, or the miserable expedition to Tanjore had made them averse, or left them too feeble to afford it, he advanced unaided to the encounter. His army consisted of 12,000 cavalry and 8,000 infantry, with which he took up a position with one flank resting on the hill-fort of Ambur, about fifty miles west of Arcot, and the other on a hill bounding one of the passes into the Carnatic. If he chose this spot under the idea that it commanded the only practicable entrance into his territories, he was mistaken; but the enemy, though probably aware of his blunder, did not attempt to profit by it. Their numbers doubled his, and they doubtless deemed it more creditable to force his position than to evade or turn it. The brunt of the action on their part fell on the French troops, who gallantly carried the position, after they had been twice repulsed. The contest was now hopeless, but Anwar-ud-din continued it with great bravery till he was slain. His two sons, Maphuz Khan and Muhammed Ali, were both present. The former was taken prisoner; the latter fled and took refuge in Trichinopoly, nearly 250 miles distant from the scene of action. The victorious army proceeded at once for Arcot, and entered it without opposition. Muzaffar Jung and Chanda Sahib immediately assumed the dignities which they had claimed; the one taking the title of subhadar and the other of nabob. Much time which ought to have been employed in giving a finishing stroke to the war was consumed in childish ceremonials; but, as if this had not been enough, Dupleix thought it right that his own vanity also should be gratified, and the new subhadar and nabob made a pompous entry into Pondicherry, where they spent some time vying with their entertainer in senseless extravagance. French interests at the same time were not forgotten, for Chanda Sahib made the company a grant in perpetual sovereignty of eighty-one villages in the neighbourhood of their capital.

The ceremonials over, Dupleix, fully alive to the danger of further delay, urged the departure of his guests, and laboured to impress them with the necessity of proceeding instantly against Trichinopoly. They expressed complete acquiescence in all his views, and set out as if determined forthwith to carry them into effect. No sooner, however, were they beyond the reach of his importunity, than they followed their own course. They did proceed with their army for the south, but suddenly changed the direction and turned from Trichinopoly to make a campaign in Tanjore. Their motive was to replenish the treasury, which was nearly exhausted. Tanjore seemed the far easier conquest of the two, and they had no doubt that, at the very worst, the king would gladly buy them off by a large contribution. Being thus undecided as to the character which they ought to assume, they acted in the irresolute manner usually exhibited in such circumstances, and allowed themselves to be entrapped into a negotiation which the king skilfully protracted till he knew that Nazir Jung had arrived in Arcot. This was a contingency which, though most probable in itself, had never once occupied their thoughts. Indeed, their first knowledge of it was obtained by a message from Dupleix. It had all the effect of a surprise, and they took the only course open to them, by retreating with precipitation towards Pondicherry.

While the French were taking a decided part in the great struggle which was to determine the future fortunes of the Deccan, the English knew not how to act. The presidency had, on their own responsibility, become parties to a war in Tanjore, but the result had disappointed them; and their interference now seemed to them not a precedent which they ought to follow, but a beacon which they ought to avoid. The success which had attended the French arms was as gall and wormwood to them; and they would fain have employed all their force on the opposite side, especially if they had felt sure that it was to prove the winning side. This, however, was very doubtful; and the result of inter-meddling, therefore, might be to subject themselves to the displeasure, and ultimately call down the vengeance of the successful competitors for the subah and nabobship. These, and similar considerations, might perhaps have justified them in resolving to remain as mere spectators of the contest, but certainly could not justify the very extraordinary course which they adopted. When Muhammed Ali, who had shut himself up in Trichinopoly and assumed the title of nabob, earnestly implored their assistance, they at first turned a deaf ear, and afterwards, as if in mockery rather than in earnest, sent him a paltry reinforcement of 120 Europeans. By this act they committed themselves as much as if they had sent him 1,000. They had chosen their side and must maintain it; and yet, with monstrous and suicidal inconsistency, they at this very time declined Admiral Boscawen’s offer to remain, and allowed him to depart with his fleet for Europe. So absurd did the proceeding appear to the French, that for some time they did not believe the departure to be more than a feint; but at length, when satisfied that it was a reality, could not refrain from openly manifesting their delight.

After the British and French had taken their sides, both were naturally anxious to show that they had made the right choice, and given their support to those who had the best title. On this subject volumes were written, but to very little purpose, for two reasons: first, because, were it worth the while, it could easily be shown that the titles of all the claimants were absolutely bad; and, secondly, because it was mere hypocrisy on the part of the two companies to pretend that they were fighting for legitimacy, when it was well understood that the justice of the war was a matter of perfect indifference to them, and that their true position was that of mercenaries, intent only on the gain which they stipulated, or might be able to extort, in return for their services. The most favourable view that can be taken of the matter is, that the regular course of government had been completely broken up, and that, in the general scramble which had ensued, the two companies were as well entitled as any other parties to make the most of it, more especially as it was not impossible that their important commercial interests might be compromised.

When Muzaffar Jung first took the field, Nazir Jung seems to have regarded it as little more than a youthful outbreak, which, if it did not carry its own punishment along with it, might at any time be easily suppressed. After the battle of Ambur he saw reason to view it in a very different light, and made his preparations accordingly. Appointing the celebrated fort of Gingi, situated about thirty-five miles north-west of Pondicherry, as the general place of rendezvous, he issued summonses, in his character of Subahdar of the Deccan, to all its various dependencies, and soon saw himself furnished with contingents from all quarters, to such an amount that his whole army was estimated at 300,000. Among these were a contingent of 6,000 horse, furnished and commanded by Muhammed Ali, whose hopes of the nabobship were bound up with Nazir Jung’s establishment as subahdar; and a contingent of 600 Europeans, furnished by the Company and commanded by Major Lawrence. The presidency, having satisfied themselves that the man who could muster an army of 300,000 men must be the real subahdar, had got rid of all their doubts and scruples on the subject of his title, and resolved magnanimously to share his fortunes. At the same time it was thought prudent to feel his pulse, and Major Lawrence, together with Captain Dalton, and a member of council who accompanied them, were commissioned to act as a trio, and treat with Nazir Jung on the interests of the Company. He received them with politeness, paid them oriental compliments, and was liberal in his promises.

The French endeavoured to keep up the spirits of their allies, and along with them took up an excellent position, from which all the mighty host of Nazir Jung would have been unable to dislodge them. The only part of the force really formidable was the detachment under Major Lawrence. M. d’Auteuil endeavoured to bribe it into inactivity by sending a messenger to acquaint the major that, though their troops were arrayed on opposite sides, it was his wish that no European blood should be spilled. He therefore asked to know in what part of Nazir Jung’s army the English took post, in order that none of his shot might come that way. Major Lawrence, estimating this communication at its true worth, replied that the English colours were carried on the flag-gun of their artillery, and that, though he too was anxious to spare European blood, he would certainly return any shot that might be sent him. M. d’Auteuil, in proposing a kind of neutrality between the French and English, had not given the true reason. His men were in mutiny, and no fewer than thirteen of his officers had thrown up their commissions in presence of the enemy. This unworthy proceeding was adopted to avenge themselves on the governor, with whom they had had a bitter quarrel before leaving Pondicherry. The cause need not be inquired into, but the effect was important. M. d’Auteuil, convinced that his men would not fight, ordered them to quit the field and march home without delay. Muzaffar Jung, who had previously begun to despair of his cause, and been attempting to come to an accommodation with his uncle, thought that not a moment was to be lost; and on receiving a solemn assurance that he would neither be imprisoned nor deprived of the government which he had held during his grandfather’s lifetime, passed over to the enemy. The pledge given him was violated without scruple. He was immediately thrown into fetters, and his troops, attacked and dispersed, were almost cut to pieces. Chanda Sahib behaved with more spirit, and fared better. Accompanying the French at the head of his cavalry, he repeatedly charged the Marathas, who, led by Murari Rao, hung upon their flank and rear, and well nigh succeeded in cutting off their retreat.

The arrival of the troops in wretched plight threw Pondicherry into consternation. Dupleix, though he pretended to make light of it, saw the full extent of the disaster, and, as usual when force failed, had recourse to diplomacy. It was known that there was considerable disaffection in Nazir Jung’s camp. Several chiefs, who had pledged themselves for the honourable treatment of Muzaffar Jung, were indignant at his captivity, and still more at the evasive answers given to themselves when they applied to be confirmed in their governments. Dupleix, having obtained permission, after several rebuffs, to send an embassy to Nazir Jung’s camp for the purpose of negotiating a peace, employed his deputies not only in ascertaining the extent of the defection, but in fomenting it. Their proposals were purposely so framed as to protract the negotiation, which, though it ostensibly failed, gained all that he sought by it. He had secured a party who, from belonging ostensibly to Nazir Jung’s camp, would do better service than if they had been ranged under French banners.

Major Lawrence, who had suspicions of the French deputies, endeavoured to put Nazir Jung on his guard, and obtained a personal interview for this purpose; but as he could only communicate by an interpreter, who feared to give the true meaning of his words, the warning was given in vain. The major then endeavoured, along with the deputies who accompanied him, to obtain a confirmation of a grant of territory near Madras, which Muhammed Ali, as nabob, had made to the Company in return for the services of their troops. After much prevarication compliance was promised, provided he would accompany the camp to Arcot, to which the subahdar was eager to proceed, not for any strategical purpose, but to indulge his taste for licentious pleasures. Disgusted at all he saw, Major Lawrence refused; and after speaking his mind freely, returned with his troops to Fort St. David.

Leaving Nazir Jung to his degrading pleasures at Arcot, we must now follow the proceedings of the French, who, having recovered from their consternation, not only began to regain their lost ground, but were emboldened to make new conquests. In order to avenge an attack which had been made by Nazir Jung’s orders on their factory at Masulipatam, situated at the mouths of the Krishna, a detachment of 200 Europeans and 300 sepoys, with several pieces of battering cannon, were embarked at Pondicherry, in two large ships, in the beginning of July, 1750, and landing in the night, took the city by surprise with almost no loss. It was immediately put in a position of defence, and reserved to become the nucleus of other conquests which were already meditated in the same quarter. Their next conquest, if not so important in itself, did more to redeem the credit of their arms. About fifteen miles east of Fort St. David stood the town of Trivadi, with a pagoda so strongly fortified as to serve as its citadel. It seemed to the French a desirable possession, both from its proximity to the British territory, and as a station which might be turned to good account in a southern campaign. It was taken without resistance, and garrisoned with only fifty Europeans and 100 sepoys. Muhammed Ali, to whom it previously belonged, justly inferring that the capture had been made not for itself but for ulterior objects, took alarm and resolved to make an effort to regain it. With this view he raised an army, half of it drawn from the subhadar’s camp at Arcot, and by engaging to defray all expenses, induced Major Lawrence, who was acting at Fort St. David as a temporary governor, to send him a detachment of 400 Europeans and 1,500 sepoys. His whole force mustered 20,000 men, with whom, after encamping for a short time in the plain of Trivandiparam, a little west of Fort St. David, from which he was to receive two 24-pounders and military stores, he marched along the south bank of the Pennar, and found the French posted on the opposite bank, about eight miles east of Trivadi. The French were entrenched; and Muhammed Ali, though strongly urged by Captain Cope, who commanded the British detachment, to take up a position which would force an engagement, was too cowardly to comply, and contented himself with skirmishes and a distant cannonade. After some time wasted in this way, Muhammed Ali proposed marching off to the west, but Captain Cope refused to accompany him; and on being refused payment of the expenses which had been promised, was ordered by Major Lawrence to return with his troops to Fort St. David. They arrived there on the 15th of August, and the French lost not a moment in taking advantage of their absence. Mustering a force which amounted in all to 1,800 Europeans, 2,500 sepoys, and 1,000 horse, levied by Chanda Sahib, they brought the enemy to action, and gained a complete victory without the loss of a single man. Muhammed Ali escaped with difficulty, and reached Arcot with only two or three attendants.

Notwithstanding the consternation produced by this defeat, Nazir Jung still remained inactive; and the French, left at full liberty to pursue their victorious career, were emboldened to attack Gingi. This celebrated fortress, in which we have already seen the Marathas resisting, for many years, the whole power of the Mughul empire under Aurangzeb, is situated among the Eastern Ghats, about thirty-five miles north-west of Pondicherry, and eighty-five miles south-west of Madras. It consisted of three steep and craggy hills, with an intervening hollow, the whole surrounded by a lofty wall flanked with towers, and enclosing an area nearly three miles in circuit. The town lay in the hollow, and the hills were both crowned on their summits, and along their declivities, with forts and other works, rendering the whole place so strong, at least according to Indian ideas, as to be deemed impregnable. How little it was really so was soon made apparent. The main body of the French army was commanded by M. d’Auteuil, but was preceded by a detachment of 250 Europeans and 1,200 sepoys, with four field-pieces, under M. Bussy, who was rapidly establishing the reputation which he ultimately acquired of being the ablest French officer in India. His object probably was to take the place by surprise; but on coming in sight of it he found 5,000 of the fugitives from Trivadi encamped under the walls. He waited, therefore, till the main body came in sight, and then attacking, drove off the enemy with little difficulty. One of the gates of the outer wall was next driven open by a petard, and the whole of the troops, artillery, and baggage were lodged in the town before night, with the loss of only three or four men. The real contest now began: the enemy firing and throwing rockets from their mountain heights, while the French answered them from their guns and mortars. The mischief done in this way by either side was not great, and preparations were made for an assault. This honour was reserved solely for the Europeans, who attacked the three hills at once in separate parties, carried redoubt after redoubt, reached the summits, and had their flags flying triumphantly on them all by daybreak, with the loss of only twenty men.

If the French were astonished at thus easily capturing what was justly considered the strongest fortress of the Carnatic, it is easy to conceive what dismay the first intelligence of the event produced in the camp at Arcot. Nazir Jung was at last aroused from his disgraceful stupor. In the excess of his confidence he had allowed many of the chiefs to return home with their contingents, and sent back the greater part of his own troops to Golkunda. Besides recalling these, he gave a striking proof of his fear by sending two officers to Pondicherry to negotiate. It was now the turn of Dupleix to be imperious, and he set no limits to the extravagance of his terms. He well knew that they would be rejected, and had proposed them with this very view, for the party which he had secured in the enemy’s camp had organized a conspiracy, and Nazir Jung’s life was hanging by a thread. Totally unconscious of the danger impending over him, he ceased negotiating, and began his march towards Gingi late in September, 1750. Though many of the troops absent on leave had failed to return, his force still consisted of 60,000 foot, 45,000 horse, 700 elephants, and 360 pieces of cannon. Including camp followers, the whole army was little short of 300,000. This vast and unwieldy body moved so slowly that fifteen days were spent in marching thirty miles. It was still sixteen miles from Gingi when its further progress was arrested by the sudden setting in of the rains. Retreat was now the only prudent course, but it was considered disgraceful, and after the lapse of two or three days became impossible. The whole country was flooded, and the camp lay inclined between two swollen rivers. Provisions began to fail, sickness as usual followed, and the prospect was gloomy in the extreme. Nazir Jung, now as anxious to quit the Carnatic as he had been fond of remaining in it, again made overtures of peace, and expressed a willingness to submit to the terms which lately he would not even entertain. Dupleix was not unwilling to have two strings to his bow, and began to negotiate without losing sight of his conspirators. At the same time he found himself in a kind of dilemma. If he made the treaty he must abandon the conspiracy, and, in all probability, sacrifice all the chiefs whom he had tempted to join in it; if he remained true to them they would do their bloody deed, and the treaty would be useless. Ultimately it was a mere toss which of the two methods of settlement would be adopted; for at the very time he was pressing Nazir Jung’s deputies to send back the treaty ratified, he sent orders to M. de la Touche, who commanded at Gingi, to march out to attack the camp whenever the conspirators should intimate to him that they were ready. This intimation reached Gingi before the ratified treaty was returned to Pondicherry, and Nazir Jung’s fate was sealed. The French force, consisting of 800 Europeans, 3,000 sepoys, and ten field-pieces, arrived within sight of the enemy’s camp. It extended eighteen miles, as every chief had a separate quarter. Where the space occupied was so enormous, the French, left to themselves, would have been at a loss to choose their point of attack; but the conspirators had provided for this by sending a guide, who conducted them to the locality immediately occupied by Nazir Jung. He had ratified the treaty only the day before, and would not at first believe that the French had attacked him. When convinced of the fact, and asking how the battle went, he was astonished to learn that a large portion of his army remained motionless as mere spectators. Enraged, he mounted his elephant and hastened off in the direction where they stood. The first troops he came up to were those of Kurpa, and Nazir Jung thinking, as it was not yet clear daylight, that the nabob who was at their head on his elephant did not recognize him, raised himself up to receive his salutation, when two shots, fired from the nabob’s howdah, pierced his heart, and he instantly expired.

Muzaffar Jung was immediately proclaimed as subahdar, and, accompanied by a large portion of the army which had just belonged to his murdered predecessor, set out in triumph for Pondicherry. The governor and Chanda Sahib received him in a tent without the gates, and a procession took place in which none of the usual accompaniments of oriental ostentation were wanting. No sooner was he seated in the palace than the new subahdar, opening his heart to Dupleix, made him aware that, along with the honours, he had already begun to experience some of the perplexities of sovereignty. The Pathan chiefs, to whose treachery he was mainly indebted for his elevation, were determined that he should pay for it liberally. How to satisfy them was the puzzle. Their demand was that three years’ arrears of tribute, which they owed, should be remitted; that in future no tribute should be exacted from them, either for the territories which they possessed, or the large additions which they thought themselves entitled to expect; and that one-half of the contents of Nazir Jung’s treasury should be distributed among them.

Dupleix undertook the office of mediator, and, after several days spent in discussion, concluded an arrangement, which was signed by all the parties, and with which all of them declared themselves perfectly satisfied. Business was naturally succeeded by festivities, and Pondicherry assumed the appearance of a gay and luxurious capital. The most gorgeous of the ceremonies was the installation of Muzaffar Jung as subhadar. His first act, after it was completed, was to declare Dupleix governor for the Mughul of all the countries south of the Krishna. All the revenues due to the Mughul for these countries were, in the first instance, to pass through his hand; and no coin but what was coined at Pondicherry was to be current in the Carnatic. From the terms used it is difficult to say whether it was meant that the subhadar or Dupleix should in future take precedence; but in the appointment of Chanda Sahib to the nabobship of Arcot and its dependencies, it was expressly stated that he was to hold it under Dupleix, as his superior. To the French East India Company the immediate advantages were the acquisition of tracts of territory near Pondicherry, Carrical in Tanjore, and Masulipatam, producing a revenue estimated by themselves at £38,000, but probably not less than £50,000; the indirect advantages were unlimited, inasmuch as, under the titles and powers conferred on their governor, they could make them anything they pleased. The treasure taken from Nazir Jung was estimated at £2,000,000 sterling, exclusive of the jewels, worth at least £500,000. Of the treasure, one-half belonged to the Pathans, under the agreement; the other half, and the jewels, were appropriated by the subahdar, subject, however, to a deduction of £50,000 paid to the company, as the expenses of the war, £50,000 to the officers and troops which gained the battle of Gingi, and a present to Dupleix, consisting, besides many precious jewels, of money fixed at the conjectural amount of £200,000.

Muzaffar Jung left Pondicherry for Golkunda on the 4th of January, 1751, accompanied by his own troops, and also a French detachment, commanded by M. Bussy, and consisting of 300 Europeans and 2,000 sepoys. On reaching the territory of Kurpa, a quarrel ensued between some of the inhabitants and the soldiers, and three villages were set on fire. The nabob, professing great indignation at the injury done to his subjects, retaliated by attacking that part of Muzaffar Jung’s division where the women were placed. According to oriental ideas, there could not be a grosser insult; and he was vowing to take summary vengeance when M. Bussy interposed, and procured the nabob an opportunity of explaining. He did so, but in such terms as only to aggravate the insult. It now appeared that the whole affair was concerted. The Pathan chiefs had never been satisfied with the arrangement at Pondicherry, and had been on the watch for a favourable opportunity to give effect to their resentment. The army was about to pass to a defile, and found it preoccupied by the Pathans, who had even planted the posts leading to it with cannon, which had been brought forward several days before. A battle ensued, which was decided by the fire of the French artillery, but the victory cost Muzaffar Jung his life. In pursuing the fugitives he came up with the Nabob of Kurnool, who, finding escape impossible, turned at bay with a handful of troops. Both instantly prepared for a personal encounter, and drove their elephants right in the face of each other. Muzaffar Jung had his sword uplifted to strike, but the nabob anticipated him, and drove the point of his javelin through his forehead, into his brain.

The French were returning with the acclamations of victory when they learned, to their dismay, that they had sustained a worse loss than defeat. M. Bussy did the best that could be done in the circumstances, by urging the immediate appointment of a successor. There was considerable room for choice, for, besides an infant son of Muzaffar Jung, three of his uncles, the brothers of Nazir Jung, were in the camp. Necessity dictated the exclusion of the infant, and the choice fell on Salabat Jung, who, as the eldest of the brothers, had the next best claim. M. Bussy, who had a chief share in his election, took care that the interests of his company were not forgotten, and procured from him a confirmation of all the grants made to the French by his predecessor, and the promise of still greater advantages. On these conditions Dupleix recognized him as subahdar, and placed M. Bussy’s detachment at his service.

Intrigues of Muhammed Ali

MUHAMMED ALI was in the camp when Nazir Jung was assassinated, and fled for the third time to Trichinopoly. His prospects were now gloomy in the extreme. The English, after sending him assistance, had withdrawn in disgust and left him to his fate, and it was not likely that Chanda Sahib would allow him to escape, as before, by repeating the blunder into which he fell when, instead of laying siege to Trichinopoly, he invaded Tanjore. Dupleix could doubtless control his movements, and would take care that they were conducted more skilfully. Muhammed Ali, while thus threatened and perplexed, was incapable of coming to any manly decision, and followed the true bent of his nature by weaving an intricate web of policy. While applying to every quarter from which any aid could be anticipated—to the Marathas, the Mysoreans, and the British presidency—he entered into secret communications with the French, and adjusted, it is said, the terms of a treaty, by which he was to renounce his claims on the nabobship of Arcot, and content himself with some inferior appointment in the Deccan. The surrender of Trichinopoly, of course, formed a leading stipulation in such a treaty; and, when completed, would have formed another most important link in the scheme of French aggrandisement, on which Dupleix was exerting all his energies with every prospect of success.

The Madras presidency could not but be aware that the ultimate effect of the accomplishment of this scheme would be to drive the British and every other European rival from the field, and make the French absolute masters of the destinies of India; but so little were they prepared to take the course which even self-preservation should have dictated, that they voluntarily deprived themselves of the ablest and most experienced officer in their service, by allowing Major Lawrence to sail for England. When they had thus weakened their hands they began to be alarmed at the consequences of their timorous policy, and wished that they had not so hastily withdrawn their aid from Muhammed Ali. The best reparation they could now make, was to send him a new detachment, and endeavour if possible to dissuade him from the suicidal step which he was understood to be contemplating of making a surrender of Trichinopoly. The aid thus offered consisted only of 280 Europeans and 300 sepoys; but he gladly accepted it, as his fortunes, in consequence of recent events, were assuming a more favourable aspect. He had been a steady adherent of Nazir Jung, and it was not unreasonable to suppose that Salabat Jung would rather confide in his brother’s friend than in those who had been the main instruments of his assassination. At all events, as he had removed with his army into the Deccan, it was not likely that he would soon return to the Carnatic. Chanda Sahib would thus be left to fight his own battles, and there seemed no reason to despair of being able to muster a force equal to any which he could bring into the field.

The first campaign in which Muhammed Ali was concerned, after he had renewed his alliance with the British, proved very disastrous. In addition to Trichinopoly, he claimed authority over two territories or kingdoms; the one, Madura, lying immediately south, and the other, Tinnevelly, lying beyond Madura, and reaching to Cape Comorin. His power in these kingdoms was more nominal than real; and with the view of establishing it more firmly, he fitted out an expedition, and gave the command of it to his brother, who met with little opposition from the inhabitants, but was paralysed by a mutinous spirit among his own soldiers. Their sympathies were with Chanda Sahib; and had not strong measures of repression been used, they would have declared in his favour. In Madura a similar feeling prevailed; and being fostered by a soldier of fortune, who had once been in the service, and was still in the interest of Chanda Sahib, gained a complete ascendant in the garrison of the capital.

As the loss of Madura, by interrupting the communication with Tinnevelly, from which Muhammed Ali expected a considerable revenue, greatly crippled his resources, Captain Cope, who commanded the Company’s detachment, volunteered to recover it. His means were very inadequate. He had only one battering cannon, three field-pieces, and two coehorns; and with these he set out at the head of 150 Europeans and 600 native cavalry, to lay siege to a city above two miles in circuit, and fortified with a double wall and a ditch. The deficiency of troops, so far at least as regarded numbers, was, however, sufficiently supplied, for on coming within sight of Madura he was joined by the army of nearly 5,000 men which was returning from Tinnevelly; the artillery continued as before, and his whole success depended on the breaching power of a large old native gun which might at any moment burst in his hands. The enterprise, though little judgment had been displayed in arranging it, seemed favoured by fortune. Several large breaches already existed in the outer wall, and the gun fired through one of them at the inner wall for two successive days made a breach which was deemed practicable with the aid of fascines. It was now resolved to storm. The reader naturally asks, Why not continue the firing for another day, and enlarge the breach, so as to make fascines unnecessary? The answer is, It was impossible: the old gun had expended all its shot! The storming party passed the first wall without resistance, but at the foot of the breach of the inner wall were encountered by a trio of champions; “one of them,” says Orme, “a very bulky man, in complete armour,” who fought manfully and wounded several of the forlorn hope before they were cut down. Meanwhile, bullets, arrows, and stones poured thick from above. Nothing daunted, the storming party gained the parapet, but there saw a sight which might well have filled them with dismay. On each side of the breach was a mound of earth, with trees laid horizontally upon it, yet leaving openings through which the enemy thrust their pikes, while at the bottom of the rampart a strong entrenchment had been thrown up, and from three to four thousand men stood ready to defend it. The assault, in which it would have been madness to persist, was abandoned, and on the following day Captain Cope, after blowing his old gun to pieces, because he had not the means to carry it away, returned crest-fallen to Trichinopoly. It was indeed high time to be off, for the bad spirit of the Tinnevelly army could no longer be restrained, and 2,500 horse and 1,000 infantry went over to the enemy.

At the time when this reverse was sustained, news arrived that Chanda Sahib was preparing to march from Arcot to besiege Trichinopoly. Muhammed Ali’s applications to the presidency for aid became more urgent than ever, and he endeavoured to give weight to them by promising not merely to pay all expenses, but to give a grant to the Company of a considerable territory adjoining Madras. Tempting as the offer was, there is reason to doubt if it would have succeeded had it not found a powerful advocate in a very unexpected quarter. Dupleix, ostensibly for the purpose of marking the boundaries of his new acquisitions, though probably as much for the purpose of tantalizing his rivals, had caused small white flags to be planted in almost every field. These flags were seen from Fort St. David, which, ever since the capture of Madras, had continued to be the seat of the presidency, and naturally excited mingled feelings of fear and indignation. What was to become of the English Company’s trade with the interior if they allowed themselves to be hemmed in by a rival company, whose boundary line would ere long be converted into an impassable barrier by the imposition of heavy, perhaps prohibitive duties? The designs of Dupleix had hitherto been only surmised, but he had now thrown off the mask and given them warning—the more impressive because of its insolence—of what they must be prepared to expect. It would be madness to hesitate any longer. Their own ruin was involved in that of Muhammed Ali, and their only safety was in supporting him to the utmost of their power. Influenced by such considerations the presidency awoke from their lethargy and resolved on action, still, however, not as principals but under their old disguise of mercenaries or auxiliaries.

In the beginning of April, 1751, a detachment was provided of 500 Europeans, fifty of them cavalry, 100 Africans, and 1,000 sepoys, with eight field-pieces, and placed under the command of Captain Gingen, who was to wait near Fort St. David the arrival of Muhammed Ali’s troops from Trichinopoly. After a delay of six weeks he was joined by only 600 horse and 1,000 foot, and proceeded south-west to Bhadrachalam, a large and strong pagoda, garrisoned by 300 of Chanda Sahib’s troops, who surrendered after being threatened with an assault. Shortly after the army was more than doubled by the arrival of 100 Europeans, sent by Captain Cope, and 2,000 horse and 2,000 foot, commanded by Muhammed Ali’s brother, and set out to encounter Chanda Sahib in person. He was encamped near Volkunda, situated thirty-eight miles N.N.W. of Trichinopoly, on the highway from that city to Arcot. Its principal defence was a rock 200 feet high, and about a mile in circuit at its base, which was washed by the Valaru. It was enclosed by three walls; one at the bottom, mostly cut out of the solid rock; another near, and the third actually on the summit. The governor was summoned by both parties, but answered that he wished to see the issue of a battle before he would yield it up to either. Captain Gingen, becoming impatient, determined to force a surrender; and after posting his army so as to intercept the approach of Chanda Sahib, should he attempt to interfere, sent a strong detachment to attempt the capture. The town, inclined only by a mud wall, was easily gained; but the rock, as should have been foreseen, could not be assaulted till a breach was made, and the detachment returned to the camp.

Captain Gingen, while thus assuming the offensive, seems to have been ignorant or regardless of the fact, that he was opposed by far superior numbers. Chanda Sahib had an army of 12,000 horse and 5,000 sepoys, and was besides supported by a strong battalion of French. These at break of day next morning were seen approaching along the bed of the river, which was nearly dry. Instead of attempting to intercept their progress, Captain Gingen and his officers were deliberating in a council of war whether they should fight or retreat. It was resolved to fight; but meanwhile the French were near the foot of the rock, and the resolution came too late. The troops, aware of the hesitations of the council of war, had no hope of victory; and, seeing some of their officers betraying symptoms of fear when the guns of the fort opened on them, were seized with panic. Strange to say, it was at first begun and for some time confined to the Company’s battalion, for not only did their own officers—Clive, now a lieutenant, among the number—endeavour to rally them, but Abdul Wahab Khan, Muhammed Ali’s brother, riding up to them, and pointing to his own men, who still kept their ground, upbraided them for their cowardice. It was all in vain, and the day was lost. Even after the danger was over, the fear was so unequivocally declared, that Captain Gingen, to free them even from the sight of the enemy, commenced his retreat at midnight, on the road leading to Trichinopoly, and did not venture to halt till he had reached the pass or straits of Utatur. Chanda Sahib followed slowly by the same route. When he appeared in sight some skirmishing took place, and even a regular battle was talked of, but the spirit of the troops was still such that Captain Gingen was afraid to risk it, and stole away with them in the silence of the night. So eager were they to place themselves beyond the reach of pursuit, that they marched eighteen hours without refreshment in the hottest season. Chanda Sahib following leisurely found them encamped on the northern bank of the Coleroon, within sight of Trichinopoly. The site of the encampment was now the only spot of ground beyond the Coleroon which Muhammed Ali could call his own.

About five miles north-west of Trichinopoly, the Cauvery, after a somewhat circuitous south-easterly course of 380 miles from its source in the Western Ghats, divides into two principal arms, the northern of which is called the Coleroon, while the southern retains its own name. For the first fifteen miles, as far as the fort of Coilady, the two arms run nearly parallel to each other, and again approach so near that they are only prevented from uniting by means of an artificial mound. The long and narrow slip of land thus enclosed between the arms forms what is called the island of Seringham. Near its western extremity, where the fork begins, and at a short distance from the Coleroon side, stood one of the most famous pagodas, or Hindu temples, in Hindustan. It consisted of seven squares, one within the other, each surrounded by a wall twenty-five feet high and four thick, and entered by four lofty turreted gates, facing the cardinal points. The wall of the outermost square is about four miles in circuit. The pagoda owed its celebrity to the supposed possession of the very image of Vishnu, which Brahma used to worship; and the myriads of pilgrims flocking to it sufficed at one time to maintain 40,000 Brahmins in voluptuous idleness. About half a mile east of this pagoda, and near the Cauvery side, stood another, also of large dimensions, but with one enclosure only.

The encampment on the north bank of the Coleroon was inconvenient for obtaining supplies, and for this reason, and also no doubt because it was deemed safer to have a river between them and the enemy, Muhammed Ali’s army crossed over into the island of Seringham. The whole, including the English battalion, took up their quarters within the three first inclosures, and abstained at the earnest solicitations of the priests from approaching nearer to the sanctuary of the idol. The post was admirably adapted for defence, but a cowardly spirit still prevailed among the troops, and they would not believe themselves safe till they had taken the last retrograde step now possible, and placed themselves under the walls of Trichinopoly. Chanda Sahib gladly occupied the island thus evacuated. It was not, however, with the intention of remaining in it. The great prize for which he was contending was now full in his view, and leaving only a garrison in Seringham, he crossed the Cauvery, and encamped on the east of Trichinopoly. The main body of Muhammed Ali’s troops were stationed on the south side, and the English battalion under Captain Gingen on the west. Captain Cope, with 100 Europeans, remained within the walls.

Trichinopoly, situated within half a mile of the south or right bank of the Cauvery, is in the form of a parallelogram, of which the east and west sides have each a length of 2,000, and the north and south a breadth of 1,200 yards. It is enclosed by a ditch, 30 feet wide, and 12 deep, supplied with water more or less copiously according to the season, but never dry, and two walls flanked at regular intervals by round towers. The outer wall, only 18 feet high, and about 5 thick, has neither rampart nor parapet; the inner wall, 30 feet high, and 25 feet apart from the other, is much stronger in every respect, having a rampart and a parapet both of stone, the former rising from a broad base by large decreasing steps, so as to be only 10 feet broad at the top, and the latter about 7 feet high, loopholed for musketry. Within the walls in the north part of the city is a lofty precipitous rock of sienite, commanding an extensive view of the surrounding country.

Such was the only place of strength now belonging to Muhammed Ali; and on the issue of the siege about to be commenced, depended not only his fate, in which, from the worthlessness of his character, no great interest could be felt, but the decision of the momentous question, whether a French or a British empire was to be established in India. The presidency at Fort St. David, now fully committed to the war, were grievously disappointed at the series of disgraces and defeats which had been sustained, and could not look forward to the siege of Trichinopoly, without the gloomiest forebodings. They had no idea, however, of abandoning the contest in despair, and began to display a firmness and decision of which, it must be confessed, they had previously given few examples. Mr. Saunders, the governor, though devoid of the versatility and showy talents of Dupleix, surpassed him in more solid qualities; and having now no doubt as to the course which the interests of the Company dictated, pursued it with judgment and perseverance. His means, however, were very limited, and his first reinforcement for Trichinopoly consisted of only eighty Europeans and 300 sepoys, cumbered with a large convoy of stores. The conducting of such a body through a hostile country was a matter of no small difficulty, more especially, as Bhadrachalam which lay in the line of route, though it still held out against Chanda Sahib, was at this very time besieged by a polygar in his interest. The removal of this obstruction was therefore the first object to be accomplished. The charge of the reinforcement was given to Mr. Pigot, a member of council. He was accompanied, it would seem not officially, but rather as a volunteer, by Clive, who, after the capture of Devicotta, had resumed his position as a civil servant of the Company, though still closely connected with the army, by holding the appointment of commissary for supplying the European troops with provisions. It was in this capacity that he was present at Volkunda when the ignominious flight took place; and hence, though he is mentioned as having been present at the council of war which preceded, and was one main cause of that flight, he did not share in the disgrace of it, but returned to Fort St. David.

Pigot and Clive, after reaching Bhadrachalam, and relieving it by surprising and defeating the troops of the polygar, sent the reinforcement forward to its destination through the kingdom of Tanjore, and were on their return to Fort St. David with twenty-four attendants, twelve of them sepoys, when they were surrounded by the polygar’s troops, and after losing the greater number of their attendants, only escaped by the fleetness of their horses. Not long after, another reinforcement was despatched to Trichinopoly. Affairs there were still in a most unsatisfactory state. The British officers were quarrelling among themselves instead of thinking how they might best sustain the honour of their country; and it seemed absolutely necessary to make an example of several of them by dismissing them at a time when their places could hardly be supplied. To meet the difficulty in part, Clive returned to his true vocation, and set out for Trichinopoly in command of the reinforcement. It proceeded through the territory of Tanjore, the king of which still professed neutrality, and received from Devicotta a small accession under Captain Clarke, who, as senior officer, assumed the command. The whole united mustered only 100 Europeans and fifty sepoys, with a field-piece. The French, who were in possession of the fort of Coilady, detached a body of thirty Europeans and 500 sepoys to intercept them. A skirmish ensued greatly to the disadvantage of the French, and the detachment reached Trichinopoly in safety. The superiority of the enemy was still very decided. Chanda Sahib’s troops were ten times more numerous than those of Muhammed Ali; and while the French battalion mustered 900, the English did not exceed 600 men. In pecuniary resources, also, the enemy had decidedly the advantage. The whole country either acknowledged their authority, or was subject to their exactions, while almost all the usual sources of Muhammed Ali’s revenues were dried up. The only thing to balance these advantages of the besiegers was the strength of the place.

Captain Clive returned to Fort St. David in the beginning of August, 1751, and after representing the fatal issue to which affairs at Trichinopoly were evidently tending, suggested as a last resource to attempt a diversion by an attack on Arcot. The bold proposal was accepted, and he was requested, or volunteered to undertake the execution of it. After stripping Fort St. David and Madras so as to leave only 100 men in the one and fifty in the other, the whole force that could be mustered for the expedition, amounted to 200 Europeans and 300 sepoys, with three field-pieces. Of the officers, eight in number, six had never seen service, and of these six four were civilians, who, animated by Clive’s example, quitted the desk for the sword. Starting from Madras on the 26th of August, they proceeded south-east to Conjeveram, where they arrived on the 29th, and learned that the fort of Arcot was garrisoned by 1,100 men. From Conjeveram they continued their march nearly due west, not far from the northern bank of the Paliar, and on the 31st were within ten miles of Arcot. Their approach was made known by spies, who had seen the detachment marching with unconcern in a violent storm of thunder and rain. The garrison on hearing this report lost all heart, and under the combined influence of superstition and cowardice, abandoned the place a few hours before the detachment arrived. The city being without walls or defences was immediately entered, and Clive and his 500 men, marching in triumph under the gaze of 100,000 spectators, took possession of the fort. It was inhabited by 3,000 or 4,000 persons, who were permitted to remain, and contained goods which had been deposited in it for security to the value of £50,000. The goods were judiciously and generously restored to the owners without ransom; the artillery, consisting of eight pieces of cannon, from four to eight pounders, and a large quantity of lead and gunpowder, were all that remained to the captors.

Clive anticipating a siege made it his first business to provide the necessary stores, and then, in order to strike new terror into the garrison, set out in quest of them with the greatest part of his men and four field-pieces. They were found about six miles to the south-west, near the fort of Timeri, but though drawn up as if they meant to make a stand, they only continued firing a single field-piece, managed by two or three Europeans, and made off for the hills before they could be brought within musket-shot. Two days after Clive again marched out of the fort, and, as before, found the enemy, now increased to 2,000, within gunshot of Timeri. They were posted in a grove inclosed by a ditch and a bank, and having about fifty yards in front a large tank almost choked up and dry, with a bank much higher than that of the grove. As the detachment advanced, the enemy fired smartly from two field-pieces, and killed three Europeans. On this the detachment advanced rapidly, and the enemy, leaving the grove, hurried into the tank, where they were so well sheltered, that they inflicted some loss without sustaining any. Clive removed his troops behind some buildings, and sent out two platoons to attack two sides of the tank. Both gained the banks, and at the same instant let fly a double volley among the crowds within. They made no attempt to return, and fled, while Clive gained possession of the pettah or village under the walls of the fort. This he immediately summoned to surrender, but the garrison, discovering that he had no battering cannon, refused, and he had no alternative but to retreat, the enemy’s cavalry hovering around him at a safe distance till he reached Arcot.

The next ten days were employed on necessary works within the fort; and the enemy, increased to 3,000 men, acquired new courage and began to talk of besieging. They were allowed to lull themselves into security, and on the 14th of September, two hours after midnight, were surprised in their sleep. Clive, with the greater part of his troops, beat up their camp from end to end without the loss of a man, while they fled on all sides with shrieks and confusion. When day broke, not a man of them was to be seen.

Two eighteen-pounders with some military stores had been asked from Madras, and were on the way escorted only by a few sepoys. In hope of intercepting them, a large detachment of the enemy occupied the pagoda of Conjeveram; and, on being expelled by thirty Europeans and fifty sepoys from Arcot, withdrew to a neighbouring fort. Here their numbers were continually augmented. The convoy being thus endangered, Clive, reserving only thirty Europeans and fifty sepoys, sent out all the rest of his troops to insure its safety. On this, the enemy with considerable dexterity suddenly changed their tactics, and hastening to Arcot, surrounded the fort with their whole force as soon as it was dark. A fire of musketry was immediately opened upon the ramparts from the adjacent buildings, while a large body, horse and foot promiscuously, rushed towards the principal gates with loud outcries and the noise of martial music. A few hand-grenades thrown into the mass so frightened the horses, that they galloped off, trampling the foot beneath them; a second assault made in the same manner was repulsed by the same means. The fire against the ramparts was still kept up and continued till daybreak, when the assailants fled precipitately on seeing the approach of the detachment and convoy. It is rather singular, that during the attack on the fort, the inhabitants within it expressed no sympathy with their countrymen outside. Some may see in this nothing but Clive’s good fortune, but others with more justice will see in it the due reward of the kindness and generosity which he had displayed in allowing them both to occupy their dwellings and retain possession of their goods.

The capture of Arcot produced the effect which had been anticipated; and the pressure on Trichinopoly was considerably relieved by the withdrawal of 4,000 of Chanda Sahib’s troops. These, joined on their route by his son Raja Sahib, with 150 Europeans from Pondicherry, and the other troops previously collected in the neighbourhood, entered Arcot on the 23rd of September. Clive, unwilling to be cooped up within the fort, determined to take the initiative, and try whether he could not, by a vigorous effort, rid himself of the enemy altogether. Facing the north-west gate of the fort was a street, which, after running north for 70 yards, turned east to the nabob’s palace, where Raja Sahib had fixed his headquarters. From the palace another street ran south, and was continued along the east side of the fort. The space thus bounded by streets on the west, north, and east, and by the north wall of the fort on the south, formed a square occupied by buildings and inclosures. With the intention of placing the enemy between two fires, Clive sallied out from the north-west gate with the greatest part of his troops and the four field-pieces, and advanced along the street leading north and east; while Ensign Glass was ordered to proceed from the east gate up the street leading north to the palace, which was thus the common point at which the two detachments, if they removed the obstacles in their way, would meet. On turning east, Clive saw the French troops, with four field-pieces, drawn up at the palace, and a cannonade commenced at the distance of only 30 yards. A few minutes cleared the street of the French, and obliged them to take refuge in the palace. Meanwhile, Raja Sahib’s troops occupying the houses in the street, and sheltered by them, kept up a continual fire, with so good an aim that fourteen men sent to capture and bring away the French guns were all killed or wounded. To escape this murderous fire, Clive took advantage of a large choultri or building for the reception of travellers. It was situated on one side of the street, and having an open front supported by pillars, while its other three sides were inclosed, afforded good cover; and at the same time, giving free ingress and egress, enabled the artillerymen to load and fire without much danger. In this way the guns were gradually withdrawn into the north street; and the whole party which had sallied from the north-west gate were able to return by it into the fort. The platoon under Ensign Glass returned about the same time, after encountering similar difficulties. The whole attack was a decided failure, and gave Clive a lesson of caution which seems to have been, at this early stage of his military experience, by no means unnecessary. It cost him the lives of fifteen Europeans, who were killed on the spot or mortally wounded; and the services of sixteen more of his party, who were disabled. Among the latter was Lieutenant Revel, the only artillery officer; among the former was Lieutenant Trenwith, who, by pulling Clive aside when he saw a sepoy aiming at him, saved his commanding officer’s life and lost his own, as the sepoy immediately changed the aim, and shot him through the body.

The day after this affair Raja Sahib was reinforced by 2,000 men from Vellore, commanded by Mortiz Ali in person, and commenced the siege by occupying all the avenues leading to the fort. Its defence must have been regarded, both by besiegers and besieged, as all but impossible. Its walls, about a mile in circuit, and several of the towers flanking them, were in many places ruinous; the rampart, surmounted by a low and slightly built parapet, was too narrow to admit the firing of artillery; and the ditch, choked up in some places and dry in others, was generally, even when it contained water, so shallow as to be fordable. The only two gates—the north-west and east, already mentioned—were large piles of masonry projecting 40 feet beyond the walls, and the entrance to each of them was not by a drawbridge, but a broad causeway. This large, decayed, and ill-constructed fort had an efficient garrison of only 120 Europeans and 200 sepoys; and was besieged by an army of above 10,000, composed as follows—150 Europeans, 2,000 sepoys, 5,000 peons or undisciplined native infantry, and 3,000 cavalry. As it was provisioned only for forty days, it was necessary to send away all the inhabitants except a few artificers, one of them, a mason, who most fortunately knew of a secret subterraneous aqueduct, by which, if it had not been choked up in consequence of his information, the only reservoir within the fort might have been drained of its water. As many of the houses of the town were within musket-shot, and would give great facilities to the besiegers, an attempt was made to burn several of them. It failed, because they were almost entirely of stone; and it was resolved to get rid of the two which threatened to be most annoying by employing more destructive means. Accordingly, at midnight, Ensign Glass and ten men, with several barrels of gunpowder, were let down from the wall by a rope. They got into the houses without being discovered, but made the explosion so unskilfully that the effect intended was not produced. Nor was this the only misfortune. The rope broke while Ensign Glass was ascending by it, and the fall unfitted him for further duty.

For a fortnight the besiegers, while waiting for the battering cannon, kept up a bombardment with four mortars, which did little damage. The fire of musketry from the houses was more effective; indeed, the aim was so sure that a man could scarcely show his head above the parapet without being hit. In this way three sergeants, accompanying Clive while he visited the works, were picked off, and several other persons were killed or wounded. Before the siege began in earnest, Mortiz Ali was tempted to try a stratagem. Pretending to be dissatisfied with Raja Sahib, he withdrew with his troops to a different quarter of the city, and sent a secret messenger to acquaint Clive with his feelings, and assure him that if he would make a sally, he would support him with all his force. Clive was not to be thus caught, and cleverly foiled Mortiz Ali with his own weapons. Instead of giving a refusal, he pretended to approve of the scheme; and by maintaining the correspondence for several days, induced a large portion of the enemy to remain inactive. Mortiz Ali, perceiving at last that he was outwitted, returned to his former place in the camp.

On the 24th of October, two eighteen-pounders and seven smaller pieces arrived from Pondicherry. With these the French opened a battery to the north-west, and served it so well that the very first shot dismounted, and the second entirely disabled one of the eighteen-pounders in the fort. The other eighteen-pounder there was also soon dismounted, and removed to a spot not exposed to the fire from the battery, which, being thus scarcely answered at all, succeeded in six days in beating down all the wall between two towers, and making a practicable breach. The garrison, meantime, spared no exertion. Immediately under the rampart opposite to the breach two trenches were dug, leaving a considerable space between them, which was covered with crows’ feet; and still farther back, a house was pulled down to the height of a breastwork, from which palisades were carried along the ends of the trenches up to the parapet. One field-piece was placed on one of the towers flanking the breach, and two on the flat roof of a house opposite to it. The enemy, aware of the reception prepared for them, did not yet venture to storm, and proceeded to erect another battery on the south-west.

The garrison, in the meantime, more in the spirit of bravado than the anticipation of any important result, thickened the highest tower of the ramparts, and crowned it with a mound of earth. On the top of this mound, which commanded the palace, as it towered above the intervening houses, they hoisted up an enormous gun, said to have been sent from Delhi by Aurangzeb, and transported by 1,000 yoke of oxen. The iron balls belonging to it weighed seventy-two pounds. The very first of these, fired from it with a charge of thirty pounds of gunpowder, went right through the palace, to the no small terror of Raja Sahib and his staff. It was fired only once a day, and after four discharges burst. The besiegers, wishing to retaliate in similar style, filled up the interior of a large house with earth well rammed down; and having thus formed a square mound, and raised it so high as to overlook every part of the fort, intended it for two small cannon and musketry. The garrison allowed the works to proceed till the cannon were actually mounted, and then opened upon it with their reserved eighteen-pounder, and with such good effect, that in less than an hour it tumbled down with the fifty men stationed upon it.

The perilous position of the garrison being well known at the presidency, it was resolved to reinforce it; and, with this view, a party of 100 Europeans and 200 sepoys left Madras under Lieutenant Innes. After a considerable part of the journey was accomplished, they were surrounded by 2,000 of the enemy, and were only able, after serious loss, to retreat to the fort of Ponamali, fifteen miles west of Madras. Relief from the presidency having thus become apparently hopeless, Clive opened a communication with Murari Rao, the Maratha chief of Gooti, who had been encamped for some time with 6,000 men among the mountains, thirty miles west of Arcot. He had come as the hired ally of Muhammed Ali, but had remained inactive on seeing the desperate state of his affairs. Clive’s name, however, was now beginning to carry a charm along with it; and Murari Rao’s answer was, that he would lose not a moment in coming to the assistance of such brave men as the defenders of Arcot, “whose behaviour had now first convinced him that the English could fight.” This intelligence alarmed Raja Sahib, who endeavoured to anticipate the arrival of the Marathas by sending a flag of truce to the fort, offering honourable terms to the garrison, and a large sum of money to Clive, and threatening, if his offers were not accepted, to storm immediately and put every man to the sword. Clive only disdained his bribe, and laughed at his threats.

The reinforcement from Madras, slightly increased, and commanded by Captain Kilpatrick, was again attempting to advance; and a detachment of Marathas had actually arrived in the neighbourhood, and captured a quantity of ammunition going to the besiegers. Raja Sahib, now awake to the danger of further delay, and encouraged by the effect of his south-west battery, which had made a still larger breach than that on the north-west, determined to storm. The day selected was the 14th of November, one of the greatest of Muhammedan festivals, commemorative of the murder of Hussain, the chief of the Fatimites. During its celebration, every son of Moslem falling in battle against unbelievers, is understood to pass at once to paradise without enduring the delays and pains of intermediate purgatories. Taking advantage of the enthusiasm which such a period excites, and heightening it by inebriating drugs, Raja Sahib, as soon as morning broke, gave the signal for assault. Every part of the fort was threatened; but the principal attack was made in four divisions, two directed against the breaches, and two against the gates. Clive, after making his arrangements, had gone to sleep, and on being aroused found the garrison at their posts. The ditch in front of the north-west breach was fordable, and the division allotted to this part of the attack rushed across it. A large number immediately sat down with great composure underneath the wall to act as a reserve, while the rest hastened up to the breach, filled it, and had even passed, before the defenders gave fire. It was most deadly, and continued without a moment’s interruption, those behind supplying loaded muskets to those in front as fast as they could discharge them. The two cannons planted on the roof of the house opposite the breach did fearful execution, and the assailants were forced to retire. Fresh bodies, however, again and again renewed the assault, but were driven off as before. Meantime, those seated under the wall were not forgotten, and a few bombs with short fuses thrown from above obliged them to decamp. At the south-west breach, the attack was made in a different manner. The ditch under it not being fordable, the assailants brought forward a raft, which was large enough to carry seventy men. These embarked upon it, and, though fired upon by two field-pieces, one on each flank, were nearly across, when Clive, observing the bad aim of the gunners, took the management of one of the pieces, and in two or three discharges caused such confusion that the raft was overset, and those upon it who escaped drowning swam back to the opposite side.

The assault had lasted nearly an hour. As soon as it ceased, the assailants employed themselves in carrying off their dead. They might have been permitted to discharge this duty of humanity undisturbed; but the fire of the garrison was not slackened, and they were obliged to desist. An act of heroism, on the part of a native, is not unworthy of being recorded. The leader of the sepoys at the north bridge, after greatly distinguishing himself, had fallen. He was greatly beloved by his men, and one of them crossed the ditch for his body. Though the attempt exposed him to the fire of forty muskets, he had the good fortune to escape unharmed with his honourable burden. The whole loss of the enemy was computed at 400 men, almost all natives; for the French, as if unwilling to encounter the English in the deadly breach while the two governments were actually at peace, had kept aloof, and been only spectators of the assault. The loss of the garrison amounted only to four Europeans killed, and two sepoys wounded. When the assault took place, so many of the garrison were disabled by wounds or sickness, that the whole number engaged mustered only eighty Europeans, officers included, and 120 sepoys. These, during the attack, served five pieces of cannon, and expended 12,000 musket-cartridges.

Two hours after their repulse, the enemy renewed their fire both with cannon and musketry; and with the exception of two hours, during which they were allowed, at their own request, a truce to bury their dead, maintained it till two in the following morning, when it suddenly ceased. When the day dawned the garrison were overjoyed to learn the cause. The enemy had evacuated the town; and the siege, after lasting fifty days, was finally raised. In the camp were found four pieces of artillery, four mortars, and a large quantity of ammunition, showing how precipitate the departure of the enemy must have been. In the evening, Captain Kilpatrick arrived with his detachment.

Raja Sahib’s repulse had been the signal for the departure of all his auxiliary chiefs, and he was left only with the troops which his father had sent from Trichinopoly. With these and the French he moved west to Vellore, close to the eastern side of which he enclosed himself within strong intrenchments. Clive, being now free to act, left Captain Kilpatrick in command of the fort, and proceeded with 200 Europeans, 700 sepoys, and three field-pieces, south to Timeri, which surrendered on the first summons. His next movements depended on the Marathas, who had promised to join him, but as usual employed themselves in plundering the surrounding country. Basin Rao, whom his uncle, Murari Rao, had left in command of 1,000 horse, conducted himself so negligently when in the vicinity of Vellore, that he exposed himself to a night attack, and was obliged to leave his camp to the enemy. Anxious to repair the loss he applied to Clive, who set out with him, and was thus engaged when he learned that a party of Europeans from Pondicherry were on the way to Arni, a strong fort on the road between Arcot and Gingi. He proposed to intercept them, and succeeded, after some difficulty, in obtaining the consent of Basin Rao, whose objections were not overcome till he learned that the French were carrying a large sum of money to Raja Sahib. Even after he gave his consent, he was unable to muster more than 600 horse. These, when added to Clive’s original force, left him far inferior to the enemy, whom he discovered after a forced march of twenty miles, preparing to cross the river immediately to the north of Arni with 300 Europeans, 2,000 horse, and 2,500 sepoys.

The enemy, perceiving their superiority, wheeled round and determined to give battle. Clive on his part did not decline it, and awaited the attack in an advantageous position—the Marathas occupying a grove of palm trees on the left, the sepoys a village on the right, and the Europeans an open ground in the centre between the two. In front were swampy rice fields, with a causeway leading through them to the village. The French, with about 1,500 of their sepoys and their artillery, advanced along the causeway, while the horse, with the remaining sepoys interspersed with them, moved forward on the grove. Here a spirited action commenced, and the Marathas displayed much gallantry, making five successive charges, though only to be repulsed. The division advancing along the causeway were more successfully opposed, and were so galled and enfiladed by the English field-pieces that all but the artillerymen with the cannon quitted the causeway and made for the rice fields. Their position was not thereby improved, and a general alarm spreading over their whole ranks they commenced a retreat. Clive followed close in pursuit, but night coming on they made their escape with comparatively little loss, crossed the river and entered Arni. So much, however, were they dispirited that they did not venture to remain, and quitted it in disorder, followed by the Marathas, who, now entirely in their element, overtook them, and captured Raja Sahib’s military chest, containing 100,000 rupees.

In consequence of this defeat, many of the enemy’s sepoys deserted and offered their services to Clive, who enlisted 600 of those who were best armed.

During the siege of Arcot, the French, by occupying Conjeveram, had interrupted the communication with Madras, and captured a party of disabled men who were proceeding thither. Some of them they are said to have atrociously murdered in their litters, but Lieutenant Revel and Ensign Glass, already mentioned, obtained quarter, and were living as prisoners in Conjeveram when Clive appeared before it and summoned it to surrender. The French commander so far forgot himself as to threaten that, if he were attacked, he would expose these English officers on the walls. Clive paid no regard to this unworthy menace; and on receiving two eighteen-pounders from Madras, began to batter in breach at the distance of 200 yards. On this occasion he made another of those remarkable hairbreadth escapes, of which we have already seen several instances, an officer who accompanied him while reconnoitring being shot dead by his side. The breach would soon have been rendered practicable, but the French commander, dreading the resentment which he knew he must have provoked, did not venture to stand an assault, and abandoned the place in the night, leaving his two prisoners behind. After ruining the defences of Conjeveram, Clive sent 200 Europeans and 500 sepoys to Arcot, and returned with the rest to the presidency, to give an account of his triumphant campaign.

Raja Sahib’s scattered troops, seeing the field again clear by the departure of the British, re-assembled, and moving down toward the coast, ravaged part of the Company’s territory around Madras and in the vicinity of St. Thome. They next returned to Conjeveram, repaired the defences of the pagoda, garrisoned it with 300 sepoys, and kept possession of the open country as far east as Ponamali. The presidency, who had been employed in preparing a reinforcement for Trichinopoly, determined to employ it, in the first instance, in expelling these dangerous and troublesome intruders. Clive, appointed to this task, marched from Madras in February, 1752, with a detachment which, when augmented by a reinforcement from Arcot, consisted of 380 Europeans and 1,300 sepoys, with six field-pieces. The enemy, though mustering 400 Europeans, 2,000 sepoys, and 2,500 horse, with a large train of artillery, did not venture to risk an encounter, and removed south to Vandalur, where, as they strongly intrenched themselves, they seemed determined on a stand. On Clive’s approach it looked as if their courage had again failed them, for they had not only abandoned their camp, but dispersed as if some sudden terror had struck them. It soon appeared, however, that they were not obeying their fears, but following out a deep-laid scheme. When again heard of they were united at Conjeveram, and preparing to move west on Arcot. Aware that it had been almost entirely stripped of its garrison to furnish the above reinforcement, they had determined to fall upon it suddenly, after they had tempted Clive so far away as to make it difficult for him to advance to its relief. The stratagem nearly succeeded, not merely in consequence of the feebleness of the garrison, but of treachery within it. Two native sepoy officers had been gained over, and were to have opened the gates. Fortunately the plot was discovered, and the enemy, finding that the signals agreed upon were not answered, went off as suddenly as they had appeared.

Notwithstanding intelligence of their departure, Clive continued his march westward, and at sunset had come within sight of Coverypauk, when the van, advancing without suspicion, were fired upon from nine pieces of cannon at the distance of only 250 yards. The whole enemy were here lying in ambuscade, and the cannons were the French artillery posted in a grove, with a ditch and bank in front. Clive made his arrangements hastily, but with the greatest coolness. Ordering the infantry to take shelter in a water-course immediately on the left, and the baggage to be moved back half a mile, under the guard of a platoon and one of the field-pieces, he sent a detachment, with two field-pieces, to oppose Raja Sahib’s cavalry, who were spreading out on the plain, and employed his other three remaining pieces to answer the fire from the grove. The French infantry advanced along the water-course in a column of six men abreast, and were met by the English infantry in the same order. Neither ventured to come to the bayonet, and an indecisive fire of musketry was kept up for two hours by moonlight. The enemy’s cavalry were also kept at bay, and failed in several attempts on the baggage. So far the fight was equal. It was otherwise with the artillery. Clive’s three pieces were no match for the French nine, and so many of his gunners were killed or disabled, that he saw no alternative but to take the enemy’s battery or to retreat. The former, if practicable, was of course the more desirable, and was at once adopted, when a sergeant, who had been sent to reconnoitre, returned with the information that the enemy had left the rear of the grove without any guard. A strong detachment was immediately despatched towards the enemy’s rear by a long circuit. Clive himself accompanied it halfway, and returned only in time to find the troops he had left in the water-course on the point of giving way. He succeeded with some difficulty in rallying them, and had renewed the fight, when all at once the enemy’s artillery ceased to fire. The attack on the rear had been completely successful. The detachment reached the grove unperceived, and gave a general volley at the distance of only thirty yards. The panic was instantaneous, and the enemy fled without firing another shot. Many of the Frenchmen who had crowded into a choultri in the grove gladly accepted of quarter, and became prisoners of war. Among the immediate fruits of the victory were nine field-pieces, three coehorn mortars, and the surrender of the fort of Coverypauk.

Clive continued his march to Arcot, and was next day on his way to Vellore, in the hopes of inducing Mortiz Ali to pay a contribution, or at least deliver up the elephants and baggage which Raja Sahib had deposited with him, when he received an order to repair with all his force to Fort St. David, from which it was determined to despatch him, in command of a reinforcement, to Trichinopoly. In marching south across the country in obedience to this order, he passed the spot where Nazir Jung had lost his life, and where Dupleix, to commemorate the very detestable action which he heralded as a victory, had founded a city under the name of Dupleix-Fateabad, or the City of Dupleix’s Victory. In its centre a column, with a pompous inscription in French, Persian, and several Indian languages, was to have been erected. Clive did an act of justice, as well as sound policy, by levelling the whole with the ground. Though his route lay through a country still nominally in the hands of the enemy, no obstruction was offered. Their spirits and their foresee were equally broken; and Muhammed Ali, who lately did not possess any spot north of the Coleroon, was, mainly by Clive’s exploits, put in virtual possession, as nabob, of a territory sixty miles long by thirty broad, and yielding an annual revenue of £150,000. Three days after Clive’s arrival at Fort St. David, Major Lawrence returned from England and again assumed the chief military command.

The Siege of Trichinopoly

WHILE Clive was gaining his successes in Arcot, Chanda Sahib continued to beleaguer Trichinopoly. The chief burden of the siege fell upon the French, who, having obtained a train of battering artillery from their settlement of Karrikal, erected their principal battery at the distance of 1,200 yards from the north-east angle of the fortress. Their headquarters were fixed at some distance eastward, near the south bank of the Cauvery; and in order to save the trouble of connecting them by trenches, they converted the battery into a regular redoubt by enclosing the flanks and rear with a parapet and a ditch. The battery was mounted with three eighteen-pounders and three mortars; and on a rock, afterwards known as the French Rock, situated nearly due south of the battery and about 2,000 yards from the south-east angle of the fortress, two eighteen-pounders were placed. Two guns were also posted on the north bank of the Cauvery, within the island of Seringham, opposite to the northern gate. These arrangements indicated a great lack of engineering skill and enterprise, as both of the two gun-batteries were far too distant to make any impression on the walls. Accordingly, after they had continued for several days wasting their ammunition to no purpose, the troops under Captain Gingen not only got rid of their former fears, but ran to the opposite extreme, and blamed him for not allowing them to be foolhardy. All his caution, though it had formerly been excessive, was now necessary to prevent them from exposing themselves to disaster.

To meet the enemy’s attack the defenders raised up a glacis, leaving nothing but the parapet of the wall visible, opposite to the principal battery, flung up an entrenchment opposite to the French Rock, and mounted two guns close to the south bank of the Cauvery, to answer those on the opposite side in the island of Seringham. A constant firing was now kept up on both sides without any result. The time wasted, however, began to tell severely against Muhammed Ali, whose resources were much more limited than those of the besiegers. Besides maintaining his own troops he was expected to subsidize the Company’s troops. This he feared would soon become impossible, and the consequence might be that these troops would withdraw and leave him to his fate. Very naturally, therefore, he looked about for new allies, and found one in Mysore, then the most powerful of the neighbouring states. Its sovereign was at this time an infant, and the whole power was concentrated in the hands of his uncle, the dalaway or regent, who listened to Muhammed Ali the more readily from the deep hatred which he bore to Chanda Sahib. At the same time, while gratifying his hatred, he did not forget his interest, and sold the promise of his assistance at a very extravagant rate. He was not long, however, in beginning to fulfil it. In the beginning of October, 1751, a party of horsemen arrived from Seringapatam, the capital of Mysore. Their number was only seventy, but they brought with them what was of more consequence, in the shape of a subsidy of 500,000 rupees (£50,000).

This was only a foretaste of the aid about to be furnished by the dalaway, for in the latter end of November he began to assemble an army at Karur, about forty-five miles W.N.W. of Trichinopoly; and, not contented with his own troops, hired a body of 6,000 Marathas, under the command of Murari Rao. We have already seen 1,000 of these mercenaries, under Basin Rao, co-operating with Clive in Arcot. A party of 500 sent to Trichinopoly distinguished themselves as soon as they arrived by their activity; and both by the boldness of their charges, and their cunning devices in laying ambuscades, cut off a considerable number of the enemy. Unduly elated by this success, they were eager for a general engagement, and on finding the English indisposed to risk it, told them, “they were not the same kind of men they had seen fighting so gallantly at Arcot.”

Muhammed Ali’s prospects now began to brighten, for after some frivolous delays, the Mysore army, consisting of 12,000 horse, of whom 4,000 were Marathas, led by Murari Rao, and 8,000 foot, arrived at Trichinopoly. The numbers appear much more formidable on paper than they were in reality, for at this time the Mysorean troops were cowardly and undisciplined. Independently, however, of their actual value, they had indirectly a powerful influence in inducing other neighbouring states to join the same side; and hence the King of Tanjore, who had hitherto professed neutrality, no sooner learned the arrival of the Mysorean army than he declared in favour of Muhammed Ali, and sent him an auxiliary force, consisting of 3,000 horse and 2,000 foot, under the command of his general Monakji. The Polygar Tondeman, whose country is Tanjore and Madura, also espoused the same side, and sent a considerable reinforcement. The army of Muhammed Ali now amounted to 20,000 horse and 20,000 foot; that of Chanda Sahib, increased from different quarters, was little inferior, since it had exactly the same number of foot, and was only 5,000 weaker in cavalry.

The urgency of the Marathas and their other confederates for action was now greatly increased, and Captain Gingen had much difficulty in resisting their importunity. When he announced his determination to wait for the reinforcement which was expected from the presidency, several of the native officers lost all patience, and scrupled not to stigmatize his so-called caution as mere cowardice. So dissatisfied, indeed, was Nusheraj, the Mysorean commander, that he was more than once on the point of returning home with his army, and was only appeased when the revenues of all the districts recovered since his arrival were made over to Mysore. Murari Rao, equally offended, said less, but acted with the characteristic duplicity of his countrymen, by entering into a secret correspondence with the enemy.

The reinforcement commanded by Major Lawrence, ably seconded by Captain Clive, was now on its way. It consisted of 400 Europeans and 1,100 sepoys, with eight field-pieces, and was cumbered with a large quantity of military stores. Both armies, aware of the effect which it might have on future operations, were equally on the alert, the one to secure its safe arrival, and the other to intercept it. On the 26th of March it arrived at a fort of the King of Tanjore, within twenty miles of Trichinopoly, and there deposited such of the stores as were most cumbersome. M. Law, the commander of the French battalion, acting not merely on his own judgment, but by special instructions from Dupleix, was determined not to allow it to pass without a strenuous effort to effect a capture. The first struggle commenced at the fort of Coilady. It was in possession of the French, who had here posted a strong body with artillery. Major Lawrence, anxious to avoid the danger, ordered his guides to look out for another road. Instead of doing so they led him to the very spot. The error was first discovered by the fire of six pieces of cannon from the opposite side of the Cauvery. Great was the confusion, but both by good fortune and good management the loss sustained was small, and the line, by diverging to the left, was soon beyond the enemy’s reach. A more serious contest was at hand. On advancing towards Elimiserum, a rock crowned with a fortified pagoda, five miles south-east of Trichinopoly, Major Lawrence learned that the greater part of the enemy’s army was drawn up in battle array between it and the French Rock, while the remainder occupied the space between this rock and the village of Chukleypollam, on the south bank of the Cauvery. The object was very apparent. Had the major attempted to pass to the north of Elimiserum he could scarcely have escaped being surrounded. He therefore passed to the south, and had only proceeded a short way, when he had the satisfaction of being joined by 200 Europeans and 400 sepoys under Captain Dalton, and the greater part of Muhammed Ali’s army.

Scarcely half an hour had been spent by the troops in taking refreshment when the scouts came in at full speed to announce that the whole of the enemy’s army was advancing. Clive, sent out to reconnoitre, observed that a large choultry with some stone buildings in front of the French battalion remained unoccupied, and was ordered forward as fast as possible with the first division of artillery, supported by the grenadiers, to take possession of it. The enemy, though aware of their object, did not attempt to outstrip them, as they might and ought to have done, and contented themselves with opening a cannonade. It was the hottest that had yet taken place in India, the French firing from twenty-two pieces, and the English from nine. The latter, though much fewer, did more execution, because the English not actually serving the guns were sheltered by the choultry and its buildings, while the French stood exposed in the open plain. This advantage soon told; and the enemy beginning to waver, first drew back their artillery, and then commenced a general retreat. Had the native troops on the English side done their part a decided victory might have been gained, but they had remained almost inactive, as if they had been not combatants, but mere spectators. This is said to have been owing, not to any want of bravery, but to the bad example set by Murari Rao, whose intrigue with the enemy was now so far advanced that he was unwilling to act against them. Though from this cause the enemy escaped with a comparatively small loss, an important object had been gained; for the reinforcement, no longer interrupted in its progress, arrived in the course of the evening at Trichinopoly.

Major Lawrence, not to allow the enemy to recover from the terror inspired by their defeat, proposed immediate action, but met with so many obstructions from his allies, whose notions of fortunate and unfortunate days often induced them to sacrifice their most favourable opportunities, that he resolved to attempt something with his own troops on his own responsibility. His object was to surprise Chanda Sahib’s camp, which lay to the east of that of the French, and had no entrenchments. With this view he despatched Captain Dalton with 400 men, with orders to make a long circuit, and commence his attack on the east side of the camp, beat it up, and set fire to it. Owing to a blunder of the guides the expedition failed, but the mere fact of its having been attempted so alarmed the French commander that nothing would satisfy him but a retreat to the island of Seringham. Chanda Sahib remonstrated, but M. Law carried his point, and with so much precipitation, that a part of the baggage and whole magazines of provisions were set on fire, to save the difficulty of transport or prevent the danger of capture. The whole proceeding looks like infatuation. By retiring beyond the Cauvery the siege was truly at an end. Why then remain cooped up in an island, with the certainty of being soon pressed for supplies, and the probability of being excluded from the possibility of egress? The only plausible account which has been given of the enemy’s withdrawal to the island is, that “they were afraid to fight, and ashamed to retreat.”

The English East India Company, while naturally encouraged and elated by the favourable turn which affairs had taken, were suffering severely in their mercantile interest by the length and expensiveness of the war; and it therefore seemed justifiable, even at some risk of failure, to adopt any plan which promised to bring it with the least delay to a successful termination. Such a plan was suggested by Clive, and adopted by Major Lawrence. It was to form the army into two divisions; and while retaining the one south of the Cauvery, to send the other to the north of the Coleroon. Hazardous it certainly was, for the defeat of one division almost necessarily involved the destruction of both. A difficulty remained. To whom was the command of the northern division to be intrusted? Major Lawrence was anxious to appoint Clive, but several of the officers as his seniors had a prior claim. The Marathas and Mysoreans removed the difficulty, by declaring that they would not allow any of their troops to accompany the expedition unless Clive had the command of it. He was accordingly appointed, and after arranging to choose a central position between the Coleroon and the straits of Utatur, so as to be always within a forced march of Trichinopoly, set out on the 6th of April, 1752, with 400 Europeans, 700 sepoys, 3,000 Marathas commanded by Innis Khan, 1,000 Tanzorine horse, two battering cannon, and six field-pieces. Having reached the north bank of the Coleroon by crossing the island of Seringham three miles east of the pagoda of Jumbakistna, he marched north seven miles and took possession of the village of Samiaveram, with its two pagodas, one on each side of the highroad leading to Utatur.

Dupleix, alarmed at the critical position into which Chanda Sahib’s army had been brought by M. Law’s injudicious retreat into the island of Seringham, sent M. d’Auteuil to supersede him. He was accompanied by 120 Europeans, 500 sepoys, with four field-pieces, and a large convoy of provisions and stores. Clive, on learning his arrival at Utatur, and intention to avoid Samiaveram, by making a large circuit to the west, set out with the greater part of his force to intercept him. M. d’Auteuil, informed of this movement, hastened back to Utatur, and Clive retraced his steps to Samiaveram. M. Law, who knew of Clive’s departure and not of his return, sent a party of eighty Europeans and 700 sepoys to attack Samiaveram, and make an easy prize of the few troops who had been left in it. They arrived in the vicinity at midnight, and were informed by a spy of the return of the force sent against M. d’Auteuil. The commanding officer refused to believe it, and pushed forward with his men. On being challenged by the advanced guard of the English sepoys, an Irishman, who was in command of a body of deserters, stepped out and told them that Major Lawrence had sent him with a reinforcement. The sepoys, hearing some of the other deserters speaking English, were so fully satisfied, that they never thought of asking the counter-word, and even sent one of their number to conduct them to headquarters. Thus guided, they passed without interruption through part of the Maratha camp, and reached the lesser pagoda. Here they were challenged by the sentinels, and answered by firing a volley. Clive, who was sleeping in a neighbouring choultry, started up, and, imagining that it was his own sepoys who were firing in consequence of some alarm on the outskirts, hastened off to the larger pagoda for a body of Europeans, and returned with 200 of them to the choultry, when he was confirmed in his first impression by finding a large body of sepoys drawn up facing the south, from which any alarm might be supposed to have come, and firing at random. Never doubting that they were his own men, he left his Europeans twenty yards in their rear, and went in among them, upbraiding them for their panic. His voice betrayed him to one of the sepoys, who instantly attacked him with his sword, and wounded him in two places. Clive immediately encountered his assailant, who took to his heels and ran off for the lesser pagoda. Still unconscious of his mistake, and enraged that he should thus have been attacked by one of his own men, he followed in pursuit, and first learned the real state of matters by being accosted by six Frenchmen. With singular presence of mind, he at once recovered from his surprise, and with great composure told the Frenchmen he had come to offer them terms, at the same time bidding them look round and see how completely the pagoda was surrounded by his army. Three of the Frenchmen went back into the pagoda to acquaint their countrymen with the offer of quarter; the other three actually gave up their arms and followed him to the choultry, where he took the necessary steps to rid the camp of intruders.

Clive’s personal dangers were not yet over. The pagoda, desperately defended by the French and the English deserters, remained in their hands till daybreak. As the only chance of escape, a sally was attempted. It failed; and Clive, anxious to save further bloodshed, advanced to parley. Weak with the loss of blood and fatigue, he was standing with his back towards the wall of the porch, and leaning in a stooping posture on the shoulders of two sergeants, when the Irish deserter, probably aware that whatever terms were made, he could have no hope of mercy, insolently advanced, and telling Clive that he would shoot him, fired his musket. The bullet missed him, but passed through the bodies of both the sergeants, who fell mortally wounded. The escape looks like a miracle. It was afterwards discovered that, at the very commencement of the alarm, he had had another escape scarcely less wonderful. The very first volley which started him from his sleep, shattered a box under his feet, and killed a servant who was lying close to him. Three hairbreadth escapes in a single day—the midnight volley—the sepoy’s sword—and the Irish desperado’s deadly aim—make it impossible to doubt that a special Providence was watching over him and reserving him for great events. The 700 sepoys who had entered the camp, managed to quit it again during the confusion, and were hastening back to the Coleroon, when the Marathas were observed in full pursuit. They attempted to escape by throwing down their arms and dispersing. It was in vain; every man of them perished.

The position of the two armies was now reversed. The besiegers saw themselves besieged and in danger of being starved out. Their great hope was in M. d’Auteuil; but this hope soon failed them, for that officer, despairing not only of reaching Seringham, but of maintaining his position at Utatur, made a rapid retreat to Volkunda, after sacrificing a large quantity of his stores. This loss, and the dangers which threatened on every side, determined Chanda Sahib’s officers to execute a design which they had for some time contemplated. Approaching him in a body, they announced their determination to quit his service. Instead of upbraiding them, he told them that they had only anticipated a similar proposal from himself. He was unable to pay their arrears, but assured them that they would not be forgotten should better fortune again attend him; and gave the best proof of his sincerity by making over to them at a valuation the greater part of his elephants, camels, horses, and other military effects. Some of the troops thus set free returned home; others took service with the Mysoreans. Very few went over to Muhammed Ali; but Clive, at Samiaveram, was joined by 2,000 of the best horse and 1,500 sepoys. Chanda Sahib was left with only 2,000 horse and 3,000 foot, who were lodged in the pagoda of Seringham. The French battalion, with 2,000 sepoys, shut themselves up in the pagoda of Jumbakistna, and gave out that they meant to defend themselves to the last extremity. As their only hope, they still kept their eyes turned towards M. d’Auteuil, who, on his part, so far from being able to bring them succour, was entirely occupied with his own difficulties. After various movements, which only entangled him more and more, he was cooped up by Clive in the fort of Volkunda, and obliged to come to terms. One of these was that deserters should be pardoned. It seems strange that there should have been any occasion for such a clause; but its importance is perceived when we learn the astounding fact, that though the whole number of Europeans under M. d’Auteuil was only 100, no fewer than thirty-five, more than one-third of the whole, were English soldiers who had deserted.

The surrender of M. d’Auteuil left the French in Seringham without the least prospect of relief. Preparatory to a capitulation, it was thought desirable that an attempt should be made to secure the escape of Chanda Sahib. M. Law was aware that in the hands of Dupleix he might still be turned to good account; and he appears, moreover, to have been sincerely desirous not to allow him to fall into the power of Muhammed Ali, who was well known to be thirsting for his life. So completely, however, was the island now watched, that the only mode of escape which seemed practicable was to bribe some of the native auxiliaries to allow him a passage through their quarters. Several were thought of—the Marathas, but they would sell him to the highest bidder—the Mysoreans, but they would employ him as a hostage to obtain the performance of the promises which Muhammed Ali had made to them—and the Tanjorines, but they bore him an old grudge, and would be willing to take an opportunity of avenging it. It was known, however, that Monakji, the Tanjorine commander, was at variance with the prime minister, and might in consequence be induced to pursue a separate interest. To him, therefore, the overture was made. He gave his consent readily, and received a large sum of money in hand, with the promise of much more, and almost any advantage for which he chose to stipulate. The bargain was thus concluded, and nothing remained but to fix the time of Chanda Sahib’s departure, when, on the 31st of May, on the arrival of battering cannon from Devicotta, Major Lawrence summoned M. Law to surrender. Monakji, now pretending zealous friendship, took advantage of the summons to urge Chanda Sahib to come over that very night, and assured him that every hour’s delay added greatly to his risk. Some suspicion of treachery was felt, and Monakji was asked for a considerable hostage. He answered with great calmness, that if treachery was meant, no hostage could prevent it, and that, moreover, the mere giving of a hostage would be equivalent to a divulging of the whole secret. He bound himself, however, by an oath on his sword and poniard, the most sacred of all obligations to an Indian soldier, to send off Chanda Sahib as soon as he came into his quarters, with an escort of horse to Karrikal. All this had taken place at an interview with M. Law, whose suspicions were still further lulled by a Tanjorine officer who told him he was to command the escort, and showed him the palanquin and other preparations for the journey. Chanda Sahib, who was waiting to hear the result of the interview, immediately placed himself in the power of Monakji, whose first use of it was to put him in irons.

M. Law, after concluding the arrangement for his unfortunate colleague in arms, had no alternative for himself. He was absolutely at the mercy of his antagonists, and had no hope except in the moderation of Major Lawrence. The French, he said, was not at war with the English; and now that Chanda Sahib was a prisoner, and his army dispersed, he expected to be treated not as an enemy, but as the representative of a friendly power, and assisted to return in safety with his army to the French settlements. Major Lawrence replied that he acted only as the interpreter of the intentions of Muhammed Ali, and justified the terms which he proposed to exact by producing a letter in which Dupleix declared that he would never cease to pursue him while a Frenchman remained in India. The first summons to M. Law was to surrender at discretion; a second, in more peremptory terms, demanded a decisive answer by a fixed hour, and added that, if the batteries once began to play, every man in the pagoda should be put to the sword. Ultimately, all evasions proving vain, M. Law resigned himself to his fate, and made an unconditional surrender. The whole force under his command, and which thus became prisoners of war, consisted of a battalion of 820 Europeans and 2,000 sepoys. Their artillery were eleven battering cannon, mostly eighteen-pounders, twenty field-pieces, four thirteen-inch mortars, and two petards; they had also a large quantity of ammunition, stores, and carriages of all descriptions. The native horse and foot within the pagoda of Seringham were allowed to depart without molestation. They all embraced the offer except 1,000 Rajputs, who, having vowed to defend the sanctity of the pagoda, kept their station, and threatened death to any one who should dare to penetrate beyond the third enclosure. It was deemed unnecessary to disturb them. The only point still to be decided was the fate of Chanda Sahib. He was still the prisoner of Monakji, who held him as his prize and refused to part with him. Major Lawrence proposed his safe custody in one of the English settlements; but the confederates were unanimous in rejecting this proposal. They were, however, far from being agreed as to any other, and Monakji began to suspect that his prisoner would eventually give him more trouble than profit. The Dalaway of Mysore, Muhammed Ali, and Murari Rao were all equally bent on securing possession of his person; and it was impossible to gratify one of them without offending the other two. In these circumstances Monakji took the course which his savage nature dictated, and rid himself of further importunity on the subject of Chanda Sahib by putting him to death. Muhammed Ali, now freed from a rival in the Carnatic, became nabob in reality as well as in name, and will in future be mentioned under that title.

No sooner was the surrender of the French completed than Major Lawrence urged the nabob to lose no time in proceeding into the Carnatic at the head of the confederate army. The soundness of his advice was readily admitted; still the nabob lingered and betrayed a mysterious backwardness to move. Major Lawrence had no idea of the cause, till the Mysorean explained it by refusing to move until Trichinopoly and its dependencies were yielded up to him as the stipulated recompense of his services. The secret had been well kept; but now, when dissimulation could no longer avail, the nabob, when questioned on the subject, readily admitted that he had promised all which the Mysorean asked. This ought to have settled the question; and be the consequences what they might, the only honest course was to fulfil the promise. Nothing, however, was farther from the nabob’s intention, and it was easy to devise plausible pretexts for evading the obligation. Trichinopoly was not his; it belonged to the Great Mughul; he was only viceroy, and might be recalled at pleasure; the Mysorean, when he took advantage of his distress to extort the promise, must have known that it was not in his power to perform it; to give up Trichinopoly to an Indian king would only be to involve himself and the British as his allies in a war with the whole Mughul empire.

It would be useless to explain the negotiations which ensued, and detail the cunning tricks which the parties employed to outwit each other. The most important point is that the Company, while recommending mutual concession, agreed to stand by the nabob, and so far to support him in his injustice by intimating to the Mysorean, that if he had recourse to force they would repel it. The effect was to patch up a hollow agreement, which neither party meant to keep. By this agreement the dalaway was put in possession of the revenues, of the island of Seringham and some other districts, and promised the possession of Trichinopoly in two months; in return he engaged to assist the nabob with all his force in the complete reduction of the nabobship. When, in terms of this agreement, the Mysorean was asked to march, he made so many frivolous excuses as left no doubt as to his intentions. As the most effectual means of frustrating them, Captain Dalton was left in Trichinopoly with 200 Europeans and 1,500 sepoys. This measure was doubtless necessary, since the Mysoreans and Marathas still retained their old encampment in the vicinity; but it greatly reduced the strength of the expedition intended for the Carnatic, reducing the Company’s battalion to 500 men and 2,500 sepoys, while the nabob was unable to accompany them with more than 2,000 horse. Such was the whole army which set out on the 28th of June, to accomplish objects for which ten times their number would scarcely have sufficed. The first place of importance which they reached was Volkunda, the governor of which, though he refused to deliver up the fort, took the oath of allegiance to Muhammed Ali, as nabob, and, besides paying 80,000 rupees as arrears, gave security for the regular payment of the revenue in future. From Volkunda the nabob sent his brother, Abdul Wahab Khan, with 1,000 horse, to Arcot, appointing him deputy-governor of the districts north of the Paliar, and proceeded with the rest of the troops to Trivadi, about seventeen miles west of Fort St. David. To this settlement, now no longer the seat of government, which had been again removed to Madras, Major Lawrence repaired for the recovery of his health, leaving the command to Captain Gingen.

The reverses sustained by the French in the south produced great consternation at Pondicherry. These, however, were somewhat balanced by the successes of M. Bussy in the north. After the death of Muzzaffar Jung, Salabat Jung, the new subahdar, appointed by Bussy’s influence, proceeded with him for Karnul, by the hand of whose chief Muzzaffar Jung had fallen, and barbarously revenged the act by massacring a large number of the inhabitants, storming the fort, and putting the garrison to the sword. They then crossed the Krishna, and continued their march northward in the direction of Golkunda. But a serious obstruction was to be removed before they could reach it. Ghazi-ud-din, the eldest son of Nizam-ul-Mulk, had never, as was falsely alleged, renounced his claim to the subahship, and was now taking active steps to secure it. With this view he had formed an alliance with the Peshwa Balaji Baji Rao, who stood ready with 25,000 Marathas to dispute Salabat Jung’s further progress. Negotiation was attempted, and the Peshwa, aware that his presence was urgently required at Satara, made no scruple of changing sides. The obstacle being thus removed, Salabat Jung, accompanied by Bussy, more as his protector than his protege, made a triumphant entrance into Golkunda. Ghazi-ud-din, had, in the meantime, set out from Delhi, and arrived at Aurangabad, which now vied with it in importance, and was regarded as the capital of the Deccan. As negotiation could not here avail, another device equally characteristic was adopted, and Ghazi-ud-din was cut off by poison. The death of the chief was, as usual, followed by the dispersion of his army, and Salabat Jung, now left without a rival, took his seat on the musnud at Aurangabad, amid general rejoicings. At such a season Bussy could obtain anything he chose to ask; and, besides receiving large pecuniary presents to himself and his officers, arranged for the future payment of his troops at a very extravagant rate. Dupleix also displayed the extent of his authority by disposing of the nabobship of Arcot, as if it had been his own absolute property. First, he proclaimed himself nabob, next he laid aside the title and conferred it on Reza Sahib, Chanda Sahib’s son; and when his exhausted treasury required to be supplied, he set aside this appointment also, and made an attempt to dispose of it for money to Mortiz Ali. This man, who had already sealed his infamy by two atrocious murders, grasped eagerly at the honour, and after advancing a sum of about £80,000, was formally installed at Pondicherry. While there, however, having become acquainted with the views which Dupleix had upon his treasures, he repented of his bargain, and, without explaining his intentions, made a precipitate return to his fortress at Vellore.

Though greatly hampered by the state of his pecuniary resources, Dupleix contended manfully with fortune, and was soon able to throw serious obstacles in Muhammed Ali’s way. In this he was greatly aided by the misconduct of the nabob himself, whose dishonesty with regard to the cession of Trichinopoly had begun to tell strongly against him. While the larger part of his force was detained there to counteract the intrigues of the Mysoreans and Marathas, scarcely a chief in the Carnatic voluntarily declared in his favour. In these circumstances it seemed desirable to strike some decisive blow which might at once raise the sinking spirits of his followers and intimidate his enemies. His scheme was to effect the capture of Gingi. Major Lawrence strongly disapproved of it, and paid a visit to Madras for the purpose of dissuading the presidency from entertaining the proposal. His influence, however, proved less than it ought to have been; and on the 23rd of July, 1752, the nabob’s application for assistance was complied with, by sending, under Major Kinneir, who had lately arrived from England, a detachment of 200 Europeans and 1,500 sepoys, accompanied by 600 native cavalry, on this formidable enterprise. The low country was easily traversed, but on reaching the mountains difficulties presented themselves at every step. For ten miles round, Gingi is encircled by mountains, and accessible only by a few strong passes. These the invading force ought to have secured, but no troops could be spared for this purpose, and the whole continued to advance. When Gingi was reached, it soon appeared that the whole march hitherto had been labour in vain. The governor, when summoned, refused to surrender, and there were no means of compelling him, for, by a very unaccountable blunder, two pieces of battering cannon, on the way from Fort St. David, had not been waited for. Meanwhile Dupleix, who had been on the alert, no sooner learned that the expedition had passed the mountains than he detached 300 Europeans and 500 sepoys, with seven field-pieces, who took up a strong position at Vikravandi, near the pass through which Major Kinneir had led his troops. No longer dreaming of the capture of Gingi, his object now was to disentangle himself. He had the good fortune to succeed, and having not only got clear of the mountains, but been reinforced by above 1,000 of the nabob’s horse, determined to give battle. He had not properly counted the cost, and sustained a defeat in which the loss was not so great as the disgrace, the whole troops, not excepting the Europeans, having given way under panic.

Elated by this success, Dupleix reinforced the victors, who, now mustering 450 Europeans, 1,500 sepoys, and 500 horse, encamped near the north boundary of the territory of Fort St. David. The Company’s troops, after retreating to Trivadi, retired still further, and took up a position at a redoubt in the bound hedge, about three miles west of the fort. Here they remained inactive, waiting the arrival of two companies of Swiss of 100 men each, who had just arrived at Madras from England. To avoid delay, one of the companies was embarked in the light boats of the country, and were proceeding for Fort St. David by sea. It had been assumed that on that element Dupleix would not venture to violate English colours. The mistake was discovered when too late, for as soon as they were seen from Pondicherry, a ship set out and made them all prisoners. The capture was loudly complained of, as a violation of the peace subsisting between Great Britain and France, but Dupleix thought he had a sufficient precedent in the capture of French troops at Seringham.

To avoid a repetition of the loss, Major Lawrence embarked with the other company of Swiss in one of the Company’s ships, and brought them safely to Fort St. David, on the 16th of August. The next day he took command of the whole force, consisting of 400 Europeans, 1,700 sepoys, and 4,000 of the nabob’s troops. The enemy immediately drew back to Bahur, and when still pursued, encamped between the bound hedge of Pondicherry and Villenore, which thus became their advanced post. From this they were soon driven, but here the pursuit ended, because Major Lawrence, under instructions from the presidency, which, amidst overt acts of war, still clung to a semblance of peace, refrained from passing the bound hedge. In this state of matters he determined, as a last attempt to bring them to action, to pretend a precipitate retreat; and, as if he had in his return become afraid, hastened back to Bahur. The stratagem, clumsy though it was, succeeded; and Dupleix, only afraid that his enemies should escape, insisted on pursuit, against the remonstrances of M. Kirkjean, his nephew, who commanded the French. They accordingly advanced within two miles of Bahur. Major Lawrence lost no time in preparing for action, and at three next morning was in motion with his whole force. The action commenced with the sepoys on either side, and did not become decisive till the British and French battalions met at the point of the bayonet. After a short struggle, two platoons of British grenadiers broke the enemy’s centre, and his whole line immediately gave way. Had the nabob’s cavalry done their duty, instead of galloping off to plunder, few of the enemy could have escaped. Even as it was, their loss was serious in men, artillery, ammunition, and stores. This victory was still more important in its indirect consequences. Murari Rao had actually been gained over to the French, and a detachment of 3,000 Marathas was on the way to join them, when they received intelligence of the affair of Bahur. Nothing more was wanting to make them change their route; and they made their appearance in the nabob’s camp, complimenting him on his victory, and lamenting their misfortune in not having been able to join him in sufficient time to share the honour of it.

Major Lawrence having advanced to Trivadi, prepared to devote the remainder of the season, before the rains should set in, to the reduction of all the country northward from Pondicherry to the Paliar. It was at the same time determined by the presidency, at the urgent request of the nabob, to attempt the reduction of the forts of Chingleput and Covelong, situated north of that river. Being of great strength, they commanded a considerable tract of country, and often sent out detachments, which plundered within the territory of the nabob and the Company. The only force which could be saved for the task of subduing them, consisted of 200 raw recruits just arrived from England, and apparently the very refuse of London, and 500 sepoys, as ignorant of service as the recruits. The only hope of success was, that Clive had volunteered to command them.

Heading these troops with four twenty-four pounders, Clive set out on the 10th of September for Covelong. It stands on the sea-shore, about twenty-five miles south of Madras, and consisted of a fort enclosed by a strong wall, flanked with towers and mounted with thirty pieces of cannon. It had a garrison of fifty Europeans and 300 sepoys, and was in possession of the French, who had seized it in 1750, by a very disgraceful stratagem. A ship anchored in the road, making signals of distress. The natives going on board, were told that most of the crew had died of scurvy, and that the survivors, still suffering from the same disease, and unable to navigate the vessel, must perish if not allowed to go on shore. They were allowed, and repaid the humanity by making themselves masters of the place. The Frenchmen, thirty in number, landed, only counterfeiting disease, and having concealed arms under their clothes, rose in the dead of the night and overpowered their benefactors.

The troops arrived in the evening at a height two miles to the westward. Half of them remained, and the other half proceeded, during the night, in charge of Lieutenant Cooper, to occupy a garden 600 yards south of the fort. At break of day, a party from the garrison, advancing to the garden, fired suddenly through some crevices of the gate. This alarm, and the fall of Lieutenant Cooper by a shot, so frightened the recruits in the garden, that they immediately took to their heels, and were running as fast as their legs could carry them, when they were met by Clive, advancing with the other half of the troops, and compelled by him, though not without difficulty, to return. The next day he summoned the governor of the fort, and receiving a very blustering answer, began without loss of time to erect a battery at the distance of 300 yards from the walls. He at the same time placed a strong guard on an adjoining rock. An unlucky shot having struck it, and killed or wounded fourteen men with the splinters, all the rest hastened off, and for some time could not be persuaded again to expose themselves; indeed, several hours after, one of the advanced sentries was found hiding at the bottom of a well.

Clive tried to shame them into courage by constantly exposing himself to the hottest of the fire, and at last succeeded in giving them some degree of firmness. It was high time, for a reinforcement was approaching from Chingleput. The very name of Clive, however, seems to have sufficed, for on hearing that he was on the way with half his troops to give battle, it fled with precipitation. The blustering governor was as easily cowed, and, just as the battery was finished and preparing to fire, surrendered at discretion. Besides the cannon mounted on the walls, fifty of large calibre were found within the fort. They proved to be part of those captured by Labourdonnais when he took Madras. The day after the surrender a large body of troops were observed at daybreak crossing a stream about a mile west of the fort. They proved to be a new and stronger reinforcement sent by the governor of Chingleput to make a vigorous effort for the relief of Covelong. They had no idea of the surrender, and were advancing in security, when, from an ambuscade which had been laid for them, a sudden fire was opened. In a few minutes 100 men were struck down, and more than half of the rest stood as if riveted to the spot, till they were taken prisoners. The few who escaped carried back their consternation to Chingleput.

This fort, situated about twenty miles south-west of the other, near the northern or left bank of the Paliar, was much stronger both by nature and art. Allowing for some irregularities, it was nearly in the form of a parallelogram, about 400 yards long from north to south, and 320 broad from east to west, and was nearly inaccessible on three sides, being surrounded by a lake on the west and north-west, and by swampy rice-fields on the east and north-east. It was naturally weak only on the south, where higher ground commanded it; but to compensate for this defect, the fortifications were much stronger here than elsewhere; for while the parts washed by the lake were inclined only by a slender wall, and those opposite to the rice-fields were but feebly defended, the south side had first a deep ditch faced with stone, and then a stone wall 18 feet high, flanked with towers. Within these works another wall, continued parallel to them, formed a second similar enclosure. The cannon mounted were fifteen pieces, and the garrison consisted of forty Europeans and 500 sepoys. Clive made his appearance before the consternation caused by the defeat at Covelong had subsided, and by means of a battery of four twenty-four pounders, placed at first at the distance of 500, and afterwards of only 200 yards, a breach was in four days effected in both the outer and the interior walls. Much remained to be done, and a stout defence might still have been made, but the officer in command had no heart to continue a resistance which he was satisfied must be ineffectual, and surrendered on condition of being permitted to march away with the honours of war. With these services Clive closed the first part of his career. His health had suffered severely, and made a visit to England absolutely necessary.

The nabob’s affairs, while thus flourishing in the north, were becoming more and more entangled at Trichinopoly. As is almost invariably the case, the honest course would have been the most politic. By performing his promises to the King of Mysore, he might not only have secured a powerful ally, but been able to make his whole force available for the reduction of the Carnatic; by attempting a course of fraud and trickery, he at once provoked and justified retaliation. He would not keep faith, and therefore only received his deserts when it was not kept with him. The effect of his double-dealing has already been seen in the attempt of Nanjiraj, the Mysore general, to take advantage of his departure. The vigilance of Captain Dalton frustrated several conspiracies formed for the purpose of seizing the city; but at last all disguise was thrown aside, and both Nanjiraj and Murari Rao entered into open alliance with Dupleix, who had all along been active in fomenting their quarrel with the nabob. Open war being thus declared, a series of desultory affairs took place. In some of these Captain Dalton’s troops suffered severely, but the means of resistance which he still possessed convinced the Mysorean that if Trichinopoly were to be taken, his surest means was famine. He accordingly endeavoured to cut off all the sources of supply. For a time little apprehension was felt by the garrison, more especially as Kheir-ud-din, the nabob’s brother-in-law, who had been left as his representative, assured Captain Dalton that the provisions in the magazines were sufficient to last four months. At last, however, when the blockade began to be more effective, and provisions were sold in the city at an enormous price, Captain Dalton thought it necessary to ascertain the actual state of provisions by a personal inspection of the magazines. Then for the first time he learned that Kheir-ud-din had been selling the provisions for his own profit, and that the quantity in store was equal to a consumption of only fifteen days.

Appalled at this discovery, he immediately communicated it to Major Lawrence, who was then encamped at Trivadi. So urgent did the case appear to him, that, withdrawing all the troops, except a garrison of 150 Europeans and 500 sepoys, he was on his way the very next morning with all the rest of the troops. After a short halt at Fort St. David, to procure the necessary stores, he proceeded, accompanied by the nabob, through the territories of the King of Tanjore, and reached Trichinopoly on the 6th of May, 1753. The very day after, a detachment of 200 Europeans and 500 sepoys, with four field-pieces, sent by Dupleix, arrived at Seringham, under M. Astruc, and joined the Mysoreans. The whole force which Major Lawrence could muster, inclusive of all the troops that could be spared from the garrison, amounted only to 500 Europeans, 2,000 sepoys, and 3,000 of the nabob’s horse. With the infantry only, the horse refusing to move because their pay was in arrear, he passed over into the island on the 10th of May, and was immediately attacked by great numbers of the Mysoreans. Their infantry was easily repulsed; their cavalry, gallantly headed by that of the Marathas, gave more trouble, but were ultimately obliged to yield; the brunt of the battle was then borne by the French, who maintained their post and kept up a cannonade till evening, when Major Lawrence deemed it prudent to repass the Cauvery. The operations of the day had convinced him that M. Astruc would prove a more formidable opponent than M. Law, and that instead of attempting to dislodge the enemy from the island, his most important business was to replenish the magazines of the city with provisions. This task was attended with the greatest difficulty, and kept him inactive for five weeks.

In the meantime Dupleix, fully alive to the important struggle about to be waged, kept his eye fixed on Seringham, and continued to urge forward reinforcements, till the whole army within the island amounted to 450 Europeans, 1,500 sepoys, 3,500 Marathas, 8,000 Mysore horse, and above 16,000 Mysore infantry of an heterogeneous and worthless description. To this army Major Lawrence had nothing to oppose but his 500 Europeans and 2,000 sepoys. Even of the latter 700 were constantly employed in escorting provisions. The enemy, confident in superiority of numbers, was now emboldened to quit the island, and began to form a chain of positions with the view of cutting off the communications of the city with the surrounding country. In this they were so successful that provisions again began to fail, and even the most sanguine ceased to hope that the city could be saved. To add to the general despondency, Major Lawrence was suffering from a severe illness, which threatened to withdraw him entirely from duty.

While the enemy were steadily pursuing their plan of gaining their object by starvation, Major Lawrence was most reluctant to quit any commanding position which it seemed possible to maintain, and kept a guard of 200 sepoys posted on a rock about a mile south-west from his camp and north-east from that of the enemy. Being thus equidistant from both, the possession of the rock was soon contested. M. Astruc, determined to have it, attacked it with a select body, and supported them at a distance by his whole force. Major Lawrence at first endeavoured to support the sepoy guard by a platoon of only forty Europeans, but, on perceiving all the army of the enemy in motion, took the bold resolution of leaving only 100 Europeans to guard the camp, and risking a general action with the remainder of his troops, amounting in all to 300 Europeans, eighty artillerymen, with eight field-pieces, and 500 sepoys. The great contention now was, which of the two armies should first reach the rock. M. Astruc was successful, and carried it by a vigorous effort when Major Lawrence was only half way. What was now to be done? Advance and retreat seemed equally desperate. In such circumstances the boldest course is usually the safest. The order to advance was received by the soldiers with three cheers, and while the grenadiers attacked the rock with fixed bayonets, the rest wheeled round it to engage the French battalion. The grenadiers carried all before them, and, with some sepoys who had followed in their track, commenced a deadly fire from the top of the rock upon the French drawn up below within pistol-shot; the other troops behaved with equal gallantry, and reserving their fire till within twenty yards of the enemy’s line, poured in such a volley that the French fled in consternation, leaving three pieces of cannon behind them. The Marathas, in endeavouring to cover the retreat of the French, and even to regain the day, were severely handled. Though the victory had been gained, the struggle was not yet ended. The victors were a mile distant from their camp, and in order to reach it must pass over an intervening plain in the face of nearly 12,000 cavalry, who stood ready to pounce upon them the moment their retrograde movement should begin. Nothing but the utmost skill, coolness, and courage could have saved them. Fortunately the heroic band possessed all these qualities in an eminent degree, and made the cavalry pay so dearly for attempting to charge them, that they were at last allowed to proceed without interruption.

The enemy, ashamed and dispirited by their defeat, lost much time in mutual recrimination. The sepoys employed in forwarding supplies made diligent use of the interval, and succeeded in bringing in a stock of provisions sufficient to last for fifty days. The danger of famine being thus removed, Major Lawrence determined to march into the Tanjore country, with the double object of meeting a reinforcement which he expected from the presidency, and inducing the king to throw aside the neutrality he had again professedly assumed, and furnish a contingent of cavalry, which was very much wanted. To facilitate this negotiation the presence of the nabob was thought desirable; but when he prepared to set out, an unexpected difficulty occurred. His troops, clamouring for their arrears of pay, declared he should not quit the city till they were satisfied. This he could not or would not do; and the singular spectacle was seen of 200 Europeans, with fixed bayonets, escorting the nabob, in whose cause the Company had already expended much blood and treasure, because his own troops, so far from escorting him, were bent on committing outrage on his person. A few days after his departure the whole of these troops repaired in a body to Captain Dalton, and intimated their intention to join the enemy. This intimation they accompanied with the singular request that he would not fire upon them while they were marching off. Glad to be quit of them on any terms he granted their request, and they walked off unmolested at noon-day.

The enemy being now in complete possession of the whole country around Trichinopoly, the city itself was the only object now to be contended for, and both parties made their arrangements accordingly. The garrison, as a matter of stern necessity, reserved all the provisions which had been stored up for their own use, and the inhabitants, threatened with absolute starvation, had no alternative but to quit their habitations. The whole population, estimated at nearly 400,000, disappeared in less than a month, and nothing remained to fill up the blank but a garrison, which, including soldiers and artificers of all descriptions, did not exceed 2,000 men. Of these nearly one-half were native peons or undisciplined infantry, who, being of no use except to give an alarm, occupied the interval between the two walls; the others, on whom the whole burden of the defence lay, consisted of about 600 sepoys, who were stationed at intervals on the ramparts, and 200 Europeans, of whom part kept the gates, while the rest lay on their arms every night, ready to start on the first announcement of danger. The besiegers, who had been contented with maintaining the blockade, now began to think that they might venture on more decisive measures. Dupleix was of the same opinion, and was constantly importuning M. Brenier, who had succeeded M. Astruc in the command, to attempt an escalade. To procure the information which was previously desirable, he suggested the employment of a French officer of the name of De Cattans, who was to be sent into the town as if he had deserted, and then act as a spy. De Cattans readily undertook the degrading and perilous office, but by overacting his part excited suspicions which ultimately led to his detection. Captain Dalton seized the opportunity to turn the devices of the enemy against themselves, and induced De Cattans, by the promise of interceding for his pardon with Major Lawrence, to write a letter to M. Brenier, recommending an escalade at a particular spot which he pointed out. It was in fact, though it did not appear so externally, the strongest point in the city; and any attempt to escalade it must have resulted in the repulse and destruction of the party engaged in it. M. Brenier, however, would have fallen into the snare, and only escaped it in consequence of being obliged to employ his troops elsewhere.

Major Lawrence’s approach, which had for some time been rumoured, was now certain. He had received a reinforcement from Fort St. David of 170 Europeans and 300 sepoys, and was moreover accompanied by a Tanjorine army of 3,000 horse and 2,000 matchlock-men, under the command of Monakji. On the 7th of August he arrived at a place called Dalaway’s Choultry, situated on the south bank of the Cauvery, about five miles east of Trichinopoly. The intervening plain was so much flooded by the rains that it was deemed necessary to strike to the south-west, along with a convoy of nearly 4,000 bullocks, understood to be laden with provisions, though it afterwards turned out that only one-tenth of them were thus laden, while the nabob and his officers had selfishly appropriated all the rest for the transport of baggage and trumpery. On arriving within a mile of the Sugar-loaf Rock, situated two and a half miles south-east of the city, Major Lawrence found it occupied by the main body of the enemy; while the Golden Rock, about one and a quarter mile due west from the Sugar-loaf, was in possession of a strong detachment. Instead of endeavouring to force the enemy’s posts, he resolved to keep on the outside of them. With this view he caused the convoy to make a considerable circuit to the south-west, intending himself to march round by the Golden Rock. This, however, was not possible while that strong position was held by the enemy’s detachment. It was necessary to drive them from it, and this was the great difficulty. In fact, had M. Brenier supported the detachment as he ought, it would have been impossible. Instead of supporting he weakened it, by withdrawing the greater part of the detachment to assist in meeting a feigned attack on his main body. Having thus allowed himself to be outwitted, he did not discover his blunder till it was too late to repair it. The Golden Rock had been carried by the English grenadiers and a party of 800 sepoys, when the French infantry hastening forward to relieve it had reached only half way. Major Lawrence followed up the advantage he had thus gained with signal ability, and ultimately drove off the whole body of the enemy in confusion. Had the Tanjorine horse pursued as they ought to have done, instead of remaining mere spectators of the flight, a decisive victory would have been gained.

The enemy, after their defeat, encamped in a strong position at Weyconda, two miles west of the city; and Major Lawrence endeavoured to turn their own tactics against themselves by occupying the Five Rocks, situated about three miles farther south, and thus interposed between the enemy and the open country from which they drew their supplies. He had frightened them away from Weyconda to Mutachellinur, on the south bank of the Cauvery, over against the south-west extremity of the island of Seringham, and was preparing to act more decidedly when all offensive movements on his part were suddenly arrested. The enemy had received a reinforcement equal in strength to the whole English force. It consisted of 400 Europeans and 2,000 sepoys, with six guns, together with 3,000 Maratha horse, and a great number of peons or native infantry, under the command of Murari Rao. The Europeans of this reinforcement had arrived at Pondicherry in June. Had they been immediately forwarded to Trichinopoly they would have given the French such an ascendency as must have been decisive of the campaign. Most fortunately Dupleix detained them nearly two months in the Carnatic for some purpose connected with the gratification of his vanity, and thus lost a most favourable opportunity for decisive action.

The Madras presidency on their part were not idle; and on hearing of Dupleix’s reinforcement, determined to strengthen Major Lawrence with every man that could be spared for the field. Having succeeded in mustering 237 Europeans and 300 sepoys, they sent them under Captains Ridge and Calliaud by sea to Devicotta. Major Lawrence moved eastward to meet them, and after a sharp action, in which the French were decidedly worsted, the junction was happily effected. Both parties having now received all the reinforcements they expected, were anxious for a trial of strength.

On the 20th of September, 1753, Major Lawrence drew up his army in order of battle at the Fakir’s Tope, a mile and a half S.S.W. of the city. The enemy, encamped between the Sugar-loaf Rock and the Golden Rock, and covering a considerable space behind, showed no inclination to accept the challenge. Major Lawrence determined to attack them next day, but concealed his intention by ordering his tents, which, in expectation of battle, he had sent to the city, to be brought back and pitched in their former place. At night the tents were again sent back, and the whole army rested on their arms, with orders to be in readiness at four o’clock the next morning. At this hour the army began to move in profound silence; and by a sudden obscuration of the moon, which had before been shining brightly, the first division arrived within pistol-shot of the Golden Rock before they were discovered. Their sudden fire so disconcerted those in charge of the rock, that they hurried off, leaving two field-pieces, which they had loaded with grape, undischarged. Before the confusion thus caused in the camp could be repaired, the British in three divisions kept advancing, with reserved fire and fixed bayonets, on the left flank of the French battalion stationed at the Sugar-loaf Rock, while the sepoys attached to the divisions kept up a constant fire on swarms of Mysorean and other fugitives, who were fleeing in all directions. The whole of the British battalion, consisting of 600 men, arrived in an unbroken line within twenty yards of their French antagonists. The latter were commanded by M. Astruc, who did the utmost to bring them into order, and even prevailed upon them to receive the English fire before they gave theirs. In this encounter Captain Kilpatrick, who led the first division of English, fell desperately wounded. His place was taken by Captain Calliaud, who, by dexterously wheeling round and gaining the left flank of an entrenchment, behind which the French battalion was posted, poured in a close fire. The grenadiers at the same time pushing on with their bayonets, drove them crowding upon their centre. A well-levelled discharge from the centre and left of the British battalion in front completed the confusion, and the rout became irremediable. The victory was now gained; but the Tanjorines again prevented it from being so complete as it might have been, by remaining to plunder the camp, when they ought to have been pursuing the fugitives. The loss of the enemy in Europeans amounted to 100 killed and nearly 200 taken prisoners; among the latter was M. Astruc, regarded as undoubtedly the best of the French officers. On the British side not more than forty Europeans were killed or wounded.

The enemy, though still mustering about 30,000 infantry of all sorts, and 16,000 horse, were so dispirited that they did not venture beyond Seringham, and allowed provisions of all kinds to be poured into the city in such abundance, that a six months’ supply was easily provided at a moderate rate. It was deemed advisable, however, in order not to encroach on this supply during the rainy season, which was now at hand, that the troops should quit the city and be carried into cantonments. With this view Major Lawrence, after reinforcing the garrison, so as to make it strong enough with ordinary vigilance for any attempt that might be made against it, removed to Coilady on the frontiers of Tanjore, from which abundant supplies could be obtained, without the necessity of escorting convoys. The Tanjorines were permitted to return home, but not without great reluctance on the part of Major Lawrence, who suspected, and as it afterwards appeared on too good grounds, that the king would scarcely be induced to send them back when the campaign should be resumed.

The enemy remained in the island of Seringham as inactive as if a cessation of hostilities had taken place; and, so far from endeavouring to take advantage of Major Lawrence’s absence, allowed the market of Trichinopoly to be regularly supplied in abundance from the surrounding country. In the beginning of November they received a reinforcement of 300 Europeans, 200 topasses or natives, chiefly of Portuguese origin, and 1,000 sepoys. Even this did not make them more adventurous, and they remained as if determined to attempt nothing till Major Lawrence should again appear and challenge them to encounter him in a new campaign. This apparent indolence was part of a scheme. It had been conceived possible to take Trichinopoly by surprise, and the object now was to lull the garrison into a false security. The circumstances were not unfavourable. Captain Dalton, whose vigilance and experience were successful in detecting and frustrating several plots, had sailed for England; and Captain Kilpatrick, on whom the command had devolved, was still confined to bed with his wounds.

The point selected for assault was Dalton’s battery, the same recommended in the letter of De Cattans, who, after obtaining what was equivalent to a promise of pardon, had been unjustifiably hung by Major Lawrence. It was situated on the west side, near the north-west angle of the walls, and had once formed part of a gateway. This part, so far as it jutted beyond the wall, had been converted into a solid battery with embrasures; the remainder retained its original form, and led by zigzag passages inclined between terraces to a gate in the inner wall. The enemy had learned, both from the letter of De Cattans and from deserters, the exact mode of entrance, and must thus have been aware of the difficulties which it would be necessary to surmount, but they still preferred the battery as the most accessible point of attack, because the ditch immediately in front of it was almost choked up by a rock on a level with the water.

On the night of the 27th November the greater part of the enemy’s army crossed over from the island. The Mysoreans and Marathas were distributed in parties round the walls, and by approaching the ditch and making other demonstrations, were to divert the attention of the garrison while the French battalion were carrying out the real attack, which was planned as follows:— At three o’clock in the morning 600 of the battalion were to commence the escalade, and the remaining 200, together with a large body of sepoys, were to wait at the outside of the ditch, ready to cross as soon as the escaladers should have gained an entrance into the town. The battery was guarded by fifty sepoys and some European gunners. All these were present and on alert when the rounds passed at midnight, and yet the event proved that, three hours after, the greater part had absented themselves, and the few who remained had fallen fast asleep. Owing to this gross breach of duty, the whole of the escalading party were able to cross the ditch and mount the battery without causing the least alarm. The sleepers being at once despatched with the bayonet, the assailants began to move forward, intending not to fire till they were fired upon. This intention was frustrated by an accident. Within the battery, close to a slight wall enclosing it at the back, was a pit thirty feet deep. It was not observed in the dark, and as several of the party screamed in tumbling into it, some shots were let off. This was alarm sufficient, and all the garrison were instantly in motion. The French, aware that concealment was now impossible, turned the two guns which they found in the battery, and fired them into the town, together with a volley of firearms, at the same time endeavouring to strike terror by beating their drums and shouting Vive le Roi! Captain Kilpatrick, still unable to leave his bed, gave his instructions with great coolness and precision to Lieutenant Harrison, the next in command, who not only executed them but improved upon them, and by the precaution of keeping up an incessant fire on the passage leading to the gate in the inner wall, killed the two persons who were hastening forward to burst it open with a petard.

The attack had now become almost desperate. From the ramparts and terraces commanding the battery the garrison assembled at their posts commenced a murderous fire, which the assailants vainly endeavoured to answer. Those who had got into the passages between the two walls, clambered back into the battery with the view of effecting their escape, but the want of ladders made this impossible, except by leaping down a perpendicular height of eighteen feet into the water of the ditch, or on the rock on a level with it. About 100 made this desperate plunge; but the rest, deterred by what these suffered, crept into the embrasures or any corner that gave some kind of shelter, and as soon as daylight appeared, asked and obtained quarter. The number who thus surrendered was 360; the number of those found killed within the works was sixty-seven; and of the 100 who took the frightful leap, few escaped without being killed or disabled. With the exception then of the 200 who had remained outside the ditch, the whole French battalion was in a manner annihilated by this fatal assault. The noise of the firing was heard at Coilady. On being informed of the cause Major Lawrence reinforced the garrison, and shortly after followed with his whole force.

The Raja of Tanjore, on the return of his troops, justified the fears which Major Lawrence had entertained, by not only refusing to send them back, but giving unequivocal manifestations of hostile designs. Dupleix and Nanjiraj, by working alternately upon his hopes and fears, had completely alienated him from his alliance with the nabob; and he was on the point of declaring himself openly, when the serious reverse sustained by his new allies in their attempt on Trichinopoly made him pause. Irritated at his vacillation, Dupleix determined to try the effect of force, and engaged a body of 1,200 Marathas to ravage his territories. The raja, who had dismissed his old general Monakji, because he suspected him of being too friendly to the English, sent a new and incapable general of the name of Ganderao, who made his arrangements so unskilfully, that the Marathas easily eluded him, and continued their devastations with little interruption. In this way the whole of the eastern part of Tanjore was converted into a waste.

The raja applied for assistance to Major Lawrence, who, in promising it, complained of Ganderao’s inefficiency, and suggested the re-appointment of Monakji. After considerable demur this suggestion was adopted, and Monakji, shortly after resuming the command, obtained a signal success. Proceeding at the head of 3,000 horse, he found that the Marathas, from ignorance of the country, had got entangled between two branches of the Cauvery, which a sudden flood had swelled so much as to leave no means of egress. Monakji encamped at the point which he knew would first become fordable on the falling of the waters, and before the Marathas deemed it possible, crossed over and met them face to face. With their usual gallantry, augmented by despair, they endeavoured to cut their way through the Tanjorines, but were repeatedly repulsed. Ultimately, 800 of them lay dead on the field. The survivors were reserved for a worse fate. In the spirit of a savage, Monakji caused them to be impaled alive, and even extended his barbarism to the dead by ordering their bodies to be suspended on the surrounding trees. This success did not produce the effect which might have been anticipated from it. The raja, satisfied that the immediate danger was passed, dismissed Monakji from his command with a few compliments; and instead of reinforcing Major Lawrence as he had promised, disbanded his troops as no longer necessary.

While the nabob’s army thus received no accession, and was on the contrary diminished by the necessity of increasing the garrison of Trichinopoly, in consequence of the great number of French prisoners detained in it, the enemy, by means of reinforcements, was able to muster 600 Europeans, 400 topasses, 6,000 sepoys, and nearly 30,000 Mysoreans and Marathas. To meet these Major Lawrence was unable to bring into the field more than 600 Europeans and 1,800 sepoys. Notwithstanding this enormous inequality of force, the enemy were so dispirited by their repeated defeats, that they did not venture to cross to the south bank of the Cauvery.

Trichinopoly had so long been the seat of war that there was not a tree left standing in the plain around it, and the British could only procure firewood by sending out detachments to a distance of five or six miles. Their provisions were obtained with still greater difficulty. These from what was called Tondeman’s Country were brought no farther than the skirts of the woods, distant about seven miles; while those from Tanjore were not brought nearer than eighteen miles, the merchants depositing them at Trictapolly, a fort situated at that distance eastward on the banks of the Cauvery. The detachments employed in escorting the provisions from these distances were seldom less than 150 Europeans and 500 sepoys. Experience seemed to have proved that this force was sufficient, for from the beginning of January to the middle of February, 1754, seven convoys had been safely escorted. The next convoy in readiness was larger than any of these. It consisted of military stores as well as provisions, and required no less than 3,000 bullocks. The escort was strengthened in proportion, and composed of the grenadier company of 100 men, eighty other Europeans, 800 sepoys, and four pieces of cannon. As not much less than a half of the whole army was thus required, the more prudent plan undoubtedly would have been not to divide it, but to employ it all as an escort. A more serious blunder was committed in intrusting the command of it to an officer of little experience and less ability.

The escort, which left Trictapolly on the morning of the 13th of February, reached Killycotta, about eight miles farther west, in the evening. The following morning it was journeying on in the same direction, without any apprehension of danger, and had proceeded two miles beyond Killycotta, along the skirts of Tondeman’s Woods, when several bodies of cavalry were seen moving on all sides among the thickets and underwood. The officer commanding the convoy had adopted the worst possible arrangement, for he had no more than a single platoon in his front and rear, while the rest of the troops were distributed in small bodies along the line of bullocks and carts. Most imprudent as this arrangement was, he made no attempt to alter it, and left his troops exposed to the sudden and impetuous onset of 12,000 Mysorean and Maratha horse, the latter commanded by Murari Rao and Yunas Khan, and the former by an officer of the name of Hari Singh, and another, destined to future celebrity under the name of Hyder Ali. These cavalry formed only part of a detachment which had been lying in wait for the convoy, and was composed, in addition to the cavalry, of 400 Europeans and 6,000 sepoys, with seven pieces of cannon. The issue was not for a moment doubtful. The sepoys at once flung down their arms and fled. The grenadiers, who had gained so many laurels in previous fights, still distinguished themselves, and, with the other eighty Europeans, were selling their lives as dearly as possible, when the French arrived, and much to their credit, obliged the Marathas to grant quarter. This was the severest loss which the British had yet sustained during the war. The whole of these Europeans were either killed, or wounded and taken prisoners. The loss of the convoy scarcely deserves to be mentioned along with that of the troops, and yet must have been severely felt. Besides the whole of the provisions and military stores, £7,000 in money fell into the enemy’s hands.

The presidency of Madras, on hearing of the disaster, made an exertion to repair it, and sent a detachment of 180 men by sea to Devicotta. There, however, they were obliged to remain till an opportunity should be found of joining the camp in safety. Major Lawrence, though his Europeans had been reduced to 400, still kept his position in the plain. It was now impossible, however, to draw supplies from Tanjore, both on account of the distance, and because the raja, again disposed to league with the enemy, discouraged his merchants from furnishing them. Tondeman’s Country being thus the only resource, 400 sepoys were detached to collect them at Killanore, a village in the woods about twelve miles distant. The want of a body of horse was now severely felt, and the presidency, on the suggestion of Major Lawrence, sent a deputy to the Raja of Tanjore, for the purpose of inducing him to send a contingent. He was too irresolute and crafty to comply; and without declaring for any party, resumed his old game of neutrality. While the nabob and British were thus left without an ally, a new danger was discovered. Treachery was at work in the city and the camp. Though it was frustrated, the details are not unworthy of being recorded.

Muhammed Yusuf, who had enlisted into the British service under Clive, excelled alike in valour and stratagem, and gradually raised himself by merit to the chief command of all the sepoys. In this position he rendered essential service to Major Lawrence. Not only did he possess a perfect knowledge of the country, and constantly procure intelligence of the enemy’s movements, but he planned all the marches of the convoys, choosing his times and his routes with so much dexterity, that during three months not one of the convoys of provisions coming from Tondeman’s Woods was intercepted. The enemy were most anxious to deprive Major Lawrence of his services, but having no hope of corrupting his integrity by a bribe, endeavoured to effect their object by a very base plot. A Brahmin, named Poniapa, acting as Indian interpreter to the British, necessarily possessed much of their confidence, and became privy to their most secret designs. This confidence, of which he was altogether unworthy, he shamefully betrayed by entering into a secret correspondence with the enemy, and ultimately engaging to act entirely in their interest. In the course of this guilty intercourse it was resolved by all means to get rid of Muhammed Yusuf; but, as he was too much on his guard to be cut off by any kind of assassination, the following scheme was adopted:—A letter, addressed by the Mysorean commander Nanjiraj, was purposely placed so as to be intercepted. Captain Kilpatrick, on obtaining possession of it, carried it to Major Lawrence, who caused Poniapa to interpret it in their presence. It desired Muhammed Yusuf and another sepoy officer to meet according to promise with some persons deputed by Nanjiraj, to adjust the time and mode of betraying Trichinopoly, promising him, if the plot succeeded, an immense sum in money, and various other advantages. Muhammed Yusuf and the other sepoy named in the letter were at once imprisoned, but a short investigation established their innocence, and they were released. Suspicion now fell upon the proper party, and Poniapa, though refusing to the last to make any confession of his guilt, was blown from a gun.

The first symptom of a favourable turn in the affairs of the nabob and his British allies appeared about this time, when Murari Rao, who had become tired of the war, picked a quarrel with Nanjiraj, by making some exorbitant demands for money, and on being refused, withdrawing to an encampment on the north bank of the Coleroon. Another incident, which at first threatened very disastrous results, terminated triumphantly. On the 12th of May a party of 120 Europeans and 500 sepoys, with two field-pieces, set out under the command of Captain Calliaud, at four in the morning, intending to wait about two miles south of the Sugar-loaf Rock, for a convoy of provisions which had been ordered to advance from Tondeman’s Woods. The place where they meant to halt was an old water-tank, nearly choked up, though its mound was nearly entire. They had nearly reached it when Muhammed Yusuf, who was riding in front, was surprised on ascending an eminence, by the neighing of his horse and the answer of it by several others. On advancing to reconnoitre, he was fired at from the other side of the eminence by several French troopers. The presence of the enemy in the very tank in which the party had determined to wait for the convoy was now certain. Captain Calliaud immediately prepared for attack, and by dexterously moving the sepoys on the left, while the Europeans wheeled round to the right flank, placed the enemy between two fires, and obliged them to abandon the tank with precipitation. The day was only dawning when the action began, but there was now sufficient light to perceive that the enemy consisted of 250 Europeans, with four field-pieces, 1,000 sepoys, and 4,000 Mysore horse. A smart cannonade immediately commenced, and both armies, attracted by the sound, immediately prepared to take part in the engagement. Captain Polier, commanding in the absence of Major Lawrence, whom sickness had obliged to retire into the city, hastened forward with all his remaining troops, while the rest of the enemy’s army crossed over from Seringham. When the two armies were thus pitched against each other, the inequality was seen to be enormous. On the one side stood the British battalion, mustering only 360 men, 1,500 sepoys, and eleven troopers; on the other side 700 Europeans, fifty troopers, 5,000 sepoys, and 10,000 horse; fortunately, from the cause already mentioned, none of them Marathas. With such odds a decisive victory was scarcely possible; and the utmost, therefore, which Captain Polier proposed, was to fight his way back to the camp. The English, defiling from the tank into the plain, marched onward in column, while the sepoys followed in a line at right angles with the rear of the battalion, and extending beyond it both on the right and left. In this manner they proceeded, galled by the enemy’s seven field-pieces, but suffering little from their musketry, which kept too far off to do much mischief, and without halting reached a second tank about a mile nearer the city. Just as they reached this post, Captain Polier, who had previously been struck, received another wound, which so disabled him that he was obliged to resign the command to Captain Calliaud. The fight being now visible from the walls of the city, Major Lawrence, although very ill, ordered himself to be carried to the top of one of the gates, and there beholding how his little army was hemmed in, trembled for its fate. While the enemy’s sepoys and cavalry were drawn up opposite to three sides of the tank, the fourth side was menaced by the French. As the latter advanced, the three British field-pieces, brass six-pounders, capable of carrying a large quantity of grape-shot, and admirably served, did fearful execution. In a few minutes nearly 100 of the French battalion were struck down. The rest, dismayed at the havoc, showed signs of faltering. Captain Calliaud seized the favourable moment, and sallying out with all the Europeans, gave a volley so well levelled that an indiscriminate flight immediately ensued, and continued till the fugitives were fairly out of cannon-shot. The rest of the enemy were not slow to follow the example, and the whole hastened back for Seringham; the British, satisfied with their victory, did not attempt pursuit. In the evening the convoy reached the camp in safety. More depended upon its arrival than the enemy seemed to have been aware of. Had they succeeded in preventing it, mere want of provisions would have obliged the victors to decamp for Tanjore the very next day.

The enemy, ashamed and enraged at their disgraceful defeat, sought to wreak their vengeance in any quarter where it could be done without much danger, and fixed upon Tondeman’s Country, from which Trichinopoly had drawn the greater part of its supplies after Tanjore had ceased to send them. Accordingly, on the very second night after their defeat, M. Maissin, the French commander, with all his Europeans, 3,000 sepoys, and 2,000 horse, suddenly entering that country, began to commit every species of ravage. The Polygar Tondeman, who had some warning of their approach, had caused his people to remove with their cattle and all their effects into the depth of the forests, whither it was impossible to follow them. The invaders, in consequence, could do nothing more than gratify their impotent malice by burning empty villages. Disappointed of the plunder which they had anticipated, they carried their depredations into Tanjore.

Major Lawrence, in expectation that the raja, on seeing his country thus attacked, would apply to him for assistance, set out with his army in order that he might be at hand to comply with the application as soon as it should be made, and thus bind the raja by interest to an alliance of a more durable nature than any he had been able to form with him. He, at the same time, ordered the reinforcement at Devicotta to effect a junction with as little delay as possible. The very next day after his arrival, a message from the raja arrived, urging him to hasten his approach. The cause of this urgency was soon explained. The invaders, not contented with pillaging the country, had been guilty of an atrocious proceeding, which threatened to doom a large portion of it to perpetual barrenness. It has been already mentioned that at Coilady the Coleroon and Cauvery would again unite were the junction not prevented by an artificial mound. At this point the level of the Coleroon is about twenty feet lower than that of the Cauvery, and the object of the mound is to prevent the whole from being precipitated into the Coleroon, when it would run waste to the sea, and preserve the Cauvery as a separate and independent stream, which, employed in irrigating the plains of Tanjore, renders them almost fabulously fertile. The invaders had cut across this mound, and afterwards cannonaded the workmen sent to repair it.

This attempt to starve a whole population in order to compel their sovereign to adopt a certain political course, proved as impolitic as it was iniquitous; for the only effect was to inspire the raja with a deep hatred of those who had employed such abominable means to effect his ruin, and convince him that his only security against the repetition of such malice was a close and cordial alliance with the British presidency. Another event, which took place at the same time, formed an additional inducement to this alliance. On the invasion of Tanjore the raja despatched Ganderao, with 1,500 horse, to Trictapolly. Murari Rao, who, after quarrelling with Nanjiraj, had fixed himself at Pitchanda, on the north bank of the Coleroon, watching for any change of circumstances which he might be able to turn to account, no sooner heard of the approach of Ganderao than he resolved to encounter him. If he succeeded in giving him a defeat, one of two objects would be gained. The raja, already frightened by the French and Mysorean invasion, would be glad to pay a large sum as the purchase of his retreat; or if this were refused, the destruction of Ganderao’s detachment would avenge the slaughter of the Marathas, and the barbarities practised on those of them who had been taken prisoners during a former campaign. Thus stimulated both by interest and revenge, Murari Rao, crossing the Coleroon and Cauvery by night, with 3,000 of his best troops, surprised Ganderao at daybreak, and so completely defeated him that only 300 of his whole force escaped. Major Lawrence arrived at Tanjore only two days after this defeat, and was consequently able to negotiate with the raja under the most favourable circumstances. The result was that Monakji was not only reinstated in his command, but appointed prime minister in room of Succuji, who had hitherto been the great obstacle to a permanent British alliance.

Major Lawrence was again in possession of an army sufficient to enable him to cope with the enemy. The Company’s force consisted of a battalion of 1,200 men, some of them topasses, and 3,000 sepoys, with fourteen field-pieces; to these were added 2,500 Tanjorines and 3,000 infantry, under Monakji. A considerable reinforcement had also been expected under Maphaz Khan, the nabob’s elder brother. As the legal heir of Anwarud-din, his right to the nabobship was better than that of Muhammed; but as he was taken prisoner in the action in which his father was slain, he was entirely overlooked in the new arrangements, and on obtaining his liberty found it necessary, after considerable hesitation, to recognize the validity of his brother’s title. He had, in consequence, been placed at the head of a body of troops nominally belonging to the nabob, but made them entirely subservient to his own purposes, and found so many pretexts for delay that the army was at last obliged to set out without him. The whole troops furnished by the nabob, therefore, were only his own guard of fifty horse. On entering the plains of Trichinopoly, encumbered with a considerable convoy, Major Lawrence found that the enemy, who had previously fixed their camp at the Five Rocks, had quitted it and advanced eastward, to dispute his further progress. Both armies drew up in order of battle; and from the apparent resolution with which the French moved to the attack, a decisive engagement was expected. Suddenly, however, after enduring a destructive cannonade with great steadiness, they wheeled round before coming within musket-shot, and began to retreat with some appearance of confusion. Major Lawrence was preparing to pursue when he ascertained that the retreat of the French infantry was only a feint to cover an attack upon the convoy. The plan was, that while the British battalion were engaged with the imagined pursuit, Hyder, at the head of the Mysore horse, should wheel round and fall upon the rear, where the baggage and provisions were deposited. Hyder’s impetuosity and eagerness for plunder frustrated the stratagem. By making his attack prematurely, he succeeded in carrying off only thirty-five carts, laden partly with arms and ammunition, and partly with baggage belonging to the British officers. This loss was more than compensated by the result of the action. The French, besides sustaining a virtual defeat, had 100 of their battalion killed or wounded, while only eight of the British fell. After proceeding to Trichinopoly without further interruption, and lodging the stores of provision in its magazines, Major Lawrence made several attempts to bring the enemy to a general engagement. Instead of accepting his challenges they retired as he advanced, and finally quitted the plains on the south side of the Cauvery, to establish themselves once more in the island of Seringham. The commencement of the rains prevented further military operations; and before a new campaign could be undertaken, a great change in French East India politics was effected. To various occurrences which preceded and contributed to this change, it is necessary now to attend.

The French Ascendency

SALABAT JUNG, indebted for his appointment of Subahdar of the Deccan to French influence, naturally clung to Bussy, through whom that influence had been exercised, and made him almost the absolute disposer of his fortunes. The French commander possessed talents which enabled him to take full advantage of his position, but found a strong party at Salabat Jung’s court disposed to thwart him in all his proceedings. At the head of this party was Sayyid Laskar Khan, who, though he hated Bussy in his heart, was such an adept in cunning that he not only persuaded him of his sincere friendship, but had been invested with the office of diwan by his special recommendation. No sooner, however, was he firmly seated in this office than he threw off the mask and took open part with those who were jealous of Salabat Jung’s French partialities, and disposed to take any steps that might seem necessary to counteract them. While they were on the watch for an opportunity, Bussy, worn out by anxiety and fatigue, fell sick, and departed, by the advice of his physicians, to sequester himself from all business at Masulipatam, now become, along with a large tract of the adjoining territory, entirely a French possession. His enemies were immediately on the alert, and made it their first business to get rid of the French troops and sepoys whom Bussy had left behind, under the pretext that they were the best security of Salabat Jung’s person and authority against both foreign and intestine foes, but really for the purpose of controlling his measures. The task thus undertaken by the diwan and his associates was delicate and difficult. Salabat Jung, who was deficient in personal courage and sagacity, was unwilling to part with the troops; and the troops themselves, consisting of an European battalion and 5,000 sepoys, all paid by Bussy himself and acting entirely under his orders, would have resisted any overt attempt to disband them. Underhand measures, therefore, were resorted to. First, the pay which had been furnished at certain regular periods was withheld; and when the troops complained, the reason assigned was, that several of the provinces at a distance from Hyderabad, where the Subahdar was then holding his court, had failed to replenish the treasury by the usual payment of revenue. As the most effectual remedy, it was suggested that the troops should be sent to enforce the collection of it. By this device they allowed themselves to be scattered over the country in detached parties.

One important difficulty being thus overcome, the diwan next persuaded Salabat Jung that his presence was imperatively required at Aurungabad. Here the mere distance from the French settlements tended greatly to diminish French influence, while the absence of the greater part of the battalion and sepoys removed all apprehension of danger from any opposition which they might have been disposed to offer to the removal of the court. Meantime the troops sent to collect the revenue made little progress, because thwarted by secret orders from the diwan himself, and their pay in consequence became more irregular than ever. Disappointment, clamour, and desertion had consequently begun to prevail, when Bussy, informed of the state of affairs, and the causes which had produced it, made his appearance in Hyderabad. He had previously given orders to all the scattered detachments to meet him there, and hence on his arrival found himself at the head of 500 Europeans and 4,000 sepoys. With some difficulty having appeased their discontent, and satisfied their most pressing wants, by money obtained partly from the treasury and partly on his own credit with native bankers, he took the bold resolution of marching uncalled with his whole force to Aurangabad, a distance of 300 miles. What had now occurred might be repeated, and he was determined that in future the pay of his troops would be drawn from some source over which the French Company had full and undivided control.

After a considerable delay, caused by the rainy season, he commenced his march. Sayyid Laskar Khan and his adherents were in consternation, but many reasons inclined Bussy to act with moderation. Instead of advancing directly to Aurangabad, he halted at some distance, to give an opportunity for the adoption of conciliatory measures. Salabat Jung, who still retained his French partialities, was ready at once to concede whatever might be asked of him; and the diwan, who had at one time bethought himself of taking refuge in the strong fortress of Daulatabad, was delighted to discover that his peace could be made on terms which personally cost him nothing. Bussy had still more reason to be satisfied, for the object of his journey had been fully accomplished. The payment of his troops had formerly depended on sources which might easily be cut off by accident or design; it was now secured by the allotment of a permanent revenue, not liable to be interfered with by native officials, but placed under the absolute control of the French East India Company. This revenue was derived from a tract of country called the Northern Circars, which, along with Masulipatam and the adjoining district previously ceded, made the French absolute masters of a line of coast extending about 600 miles along the Bay of Bengal, from the mouths of the Krishna to the Temple of Juggernaut, near lat. 20°. At a moderate estimate the revenue of the whole could not be less than £500,000 sterling. This immense grant having been made with a special view to the maintenance of the French troops, was strictly speaking revocable the moment these troops should be withdrawn from Salabat Jang’s service; but no such contingency was then contemplated, and it appears to have been perfectly understood that, when the French were established in possession, nothing but force would suffice to deprive them of it. But how could such force be successfully employed? The chain of mountains bounding the Circars on the west formed an almost impassable barrier to any invasion from the Deccan, while their long line of coast made it easy, if attacked, to employ all the resources of the other French settlements in their defence. This consideration had not escaped the notice of the diwan, who endeavoured without success to tempt Bussy to exchange the Circars for an inland territory of much greater extent and value.

The ambitious schemes which Dupleix had long meditated, and which aimed at nothing less than the establishment of French ascendency throughout the Deccan, seemed now in a fair way of being accomplished. Hitherto, however, the war in the Carnatic had been a serious obstacle. It formed a constant drain on the resources of the French Company; and what was worse, did not compensate for the cost by any adequate return. Beyond the Coleroon the position of affairs was still more unfavourable; and, after all the exertions which had been made, the superiority remained decidedly with the British. Could it be possible to come to some arrangement with these formidable rivals? If they could be induced to quit the field, a host of difficulties would at once disappear. The practicability of some such arrangement, and the advantages that would naturally follow from it, had been repeatedly urged upon the attention of Dupleix by his employers; and though he was little disposed to adopt a peaceful policy, he deemed it expedient so far to defer to their wishes as to make formal proposals of negotiation to the Madras presidency in the beginning of 1754.

The English Company, whose finances had suffered severely during the war, were still more desirous to terminate hostilities, and had repeatedly urged the presidency to embrace the first opportunity of securing so desirable a result. There was thus little difficulty in making the preliminary arrangements for a conference. The place selected for this purpose was the Dutch settlement of Sadrass, situated on the road between Madras and Pondicherry. Here the deputies appointed by the two companies met on the 3rd of January, and opened the business by mutually producing their proposed basis of negotiation. It was at once perceived that their views were totally irreconcilable. The English Company insisted that Muhammed Ali should be acknowledged Nabob of the Carnatic, and the French that Salabat Jung should be acknowledged Subahdar of the Deccan; in other words, each insisted that the other should yield the whole that had been at issue in the contest. As matters stood, Salabat Jung and Muhammed Ali were merely representatives of the two rival companies, and the recognition of either without any modification of their powers, or any effectual check on the abuse of these, would have been to place the one company entirely at the other’s mercy. This was too obvious not to be seen, and yet the negotiation was allowed to proceed, though there was no common point from which it could start. In the course of the discussions which followed, the French produced seven patents, two from Muzaffar Jung, four from Salabat Jung, and one from the Great Mughul. Those from Muzaffar Jung and Salabat Jung, inter alia, appointed Dupleix commander from the Krishna to Cape Comorin, and gave him the whole territories of Arcot and Trichinopoly after Chanda Sahib’s death. The patent from the Great Mughul was in the form of a letter confirming all the grants which Salabat Jung had made in favour of Dupleix and his allies. The English Company also professed to be in possession of patents from Nazir Jung, Ghazi-ud-din, and the Great Mughul, giving and confirming the nabobship of the Carnatic to Muhammed Ali. Though the patents thus founded upon were contradictory and neutralized each other, it is not impossible that they may all have been genuine; for at this period of political confusion in India, there was little difficulty in obtaining any kind of document that might be wished, provided a sufficient sum of money was paid for it. Several suspicious circumstances, however, made the genuineness of the patent from the Great Mughul, which the French had produced, more than questionable. The seal was proved to be that of a former reign; and when attention was called to the circumstance, Dupleix, instead of courting examination, suddenly withdrew it and all his other documents, on the ground that those which Muhammed Ali was alleged to have in his possession at Trichinopoly had been only promised, not produced. As the production certainly ought to have been mutual, the objection was so far well founded; the absurdity, shared alike by both parties, was in hypocritically endeavouring to give a semblance of legality and equity to acquisitions which had originally been made in defiance of both, and were still only maintained by the sword. After a large amount of quibbling and tergiversation, the whole negotiation ended in smoke. Much recrimination followed, and the only result was, to leave both sides more exasperated than ever.

In carrying on the war in India the English Company were placed at a great disadvantage in being left to depend entirely on their own resources, while the French Company were directly countenanced and supported by their government. They had therefore good reason for the remonstrance which they presented to the British ministry, calling upon them to take the necessary steps either to terminate the war, or to furnish the resources by which it was to be carried on. The former alternative was adopted, and the position of matters in the East became the subject of an earnest correspondence between the two governments. After various conferences in London, between the Earl of Holderness, principal secretary of state, and two deputies sent over from Paris, the British ministry, dissatisfied with the little progress made towards a settlement, began to prepare for the worst, by equipping a squadron of men-of-war for the East Indies. The French ministry, made aware by this decisive step that procrastination would no longer avail, began to act in earnest, and entered into an arrangement by which the disputes of the companies were to be settled on a footing of equality. In order to carry out this arrangement, it was necessary that commissaries should be appointed to adjust the terms. Had talent and experience only been required, the choice of the French Company would naturally have fallen on Dupleix; but the policy about to be adopted was so opposed to that which he had all along pursued, that some degree of suspicion justly attached to him, and he was considered ineligible. But if ineligible to be appointed a commissary, to adjust the terms of a settlement, he was obviously unfit to be employed in giving effect to it, and could no longer be permitted to hold the government of Pondicherry. He was therefore superseded by M. Godeheu, a director of the French Company, who arrived on the 2nd of August, 1754, invested with absolute authority over all the French settlements in the East Indies. It is easy to conceive how bitterly Dupleix must have felt when thus compelled to resign. Even when deprived of the substance of power he clung to its shadow, and was permitted during the two months which elapsed before he took his final departure for Europe, to gratify his vanity by wearing the dress and parading the streets with all the insignia belonging to him in his imaginary capacity of Nabob of the Carnatic. The fact of his being gratified by such an exhibition proves him to have been devoid of true dignity of character, and makes it impossible to take much interest in his future fortunes. Yet his fate was hard. He had not only spent his life, but embarked his whole fortune in the service of the French East India Company. From them, therefore, he was entitled to generous treatment. So far from this, they would not even do him justice, and he was obliged to seek it by a law process, which was still pending when he died, ruined and broken-hearted.

Immediately on his arrival, M. Godeheu entered into communication with Mr. Saunders, governor of Madras, and gave proof of his good faith and anxiety for a settlement by releasing the company of Swiss soldiers who had been captured while proceeding in country boats for Fort St. David. A favourable answer was returned, but meanwhile both parties continued their warlike operations. The French received a reinforcement of 1,200 men, of whom 600 were hussars under the command of Fitscher, a partisan of some reputation; a still larger accession of force was made to the British, by the arrival of the squadron above mentioned. It was commanded by Admiral Watson, and consisted of three ships, of sixty, fifty, and twenty guns; together with a sloop of war and several Company’s ships, having on board the 49th regiment of 700 men, under command of Colonel Adlercron, forty royal artillerymen, and 200 Company recruits. The superiority was decidedly with the British, and probably had some effect in inducing M. Godeheu to propose terms so reasonable that they were at once acceded to, so far as to justify a suspension of hostilities, on the 11th of October, 1754. Its duration was fixed at three months; but before these expired, the terms of a treaty, conditional on the approbation of the two companies in Europe, were adjusted, and became the basis of an eighteen months’ truce. The leading principle of the treaty was, that on the east coast of India the two companies should be placed on a footing of perfect equality. With this view it was stipulated that they should for ever renounce all Moorish government and dignity, never interfere in quarrels among native princes, and restore to them all places and possessions except those which the treaty, when made definitive, should expressly reserve; that in Tanjore the English should retain Devicotta, and the French Karrikal, with the districts at present attached to each; that on the Coromandel coast the English should retain Fort St. George and Fort St. David with their present districts, and the French Pondicherry, with either an additional district or a new settlement between Nizampatam and the Gundlacama, to compensate for the deficiency for the settlement of Karrikal compared with those of Devicotta and Fort St. David; that at Masulipatam a district should be formed equal in extent to the island of Divy in the same vicinity, and then a partition should be made by mutual agreement, giving the district to the one company and the island to the other; that to the northward of Masulipatam, and within the Northern Circars, each company should have four or five subordinate factories, merely as places of trade, without any district attached to them, and so situated as not to interfere with each other. Till the treaty was made definitive by its ratification in Europe, existing possession should be retained by both companies in conformity with the principle of uti possidetis, but during the truce no new acquisitions should be made, and the allies should either be bound to act in accordance with it, or be repelled by the troops of both companies in the event of their making an attack upon either.

In this treaty the French Company apparently made the larger sacrifice. Their revenues within the territorial limits over which the treaty extended had been augmented during the war to at least £700,000 per annum, while those acquired by the English Company fell short of £100,000. By consenting to an equality of possession, they renounced an income nearly equal to the whole difference between these two sums. Such at least seems to be the plain meaning of its leading stipulations, and yet it must have been understood differently, for Bussy’s connection with Salabat Jung underwent no change in consequence of it; and, as if in direct defiance of the very first article, he continued to fight his battles as before. It may be alleged that it was impossible for him to do otherwise, as this was the condition on which the Northern Circars had been made over to him. The moment the troops were withdrawn, the Circars would have reverted to the ruler of the Deccan, and thus the principle of uti possidetis, which, according to another stipulation, was to be maintained so long as the treaty remained only conditional, would have been violated, to the manifest damage of the French Company. In point of fact, then, the suspension of hostilities was only partial; and while the English Company were specially excluded from attempting anything in the Carnatic, there was nothing to prevent the French Company from endeavouring, through the intervention of Bussy, to extend their influence, and pave the way for the establishment of a complete ascendency in the Deccan. It soon appeared that this was not the only serious flaw in the treaty. The allies had been made parties to it without being consulted, and could not understand why they should be obliged to follow in the wake of foreign mercenaries, and make peace and war at their dictation. Nanjiraj, in particular, continued to linger in Seringham, and openly declared that he would never quit it excepting for the purpose of making himself master of Trichinopoly. The nabob on his part was equally warlike; and having little fear of the Mysorean, now that the French were under an obligation not to assist him, began to meditate an expedition against Madura and Tinnevelly. Strange to say, the Madras presidency, as if they had already regarded the treaty as a dead letter, were no sooner applied to than they agreed to furnish 500 Europeans and 2,000 sepoys for this expedition. The French remonstrated against this proceeding as a violation of the truce; but as they were themselves setting a similar example in the Deccan, little attention was paid to their remonstrance.

The nabob and his brother, Maphaz Khan, who was now acting as his representative in the countries south of the Coleroon, joined the expedition with 1,000 horse; but the detachment was commanded by Lieutenant-colonel Heron, an officer lately arrived from England. Major Lawrence had previously left for Madras with the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the king’s service—an honour which, so far from rewarding him according to his merit, did not even compensate for the marked slight which he received when Colonel Adlercron, as his superior officer, superseded him in the chief command of the British forces in India. The expedition set out in the beginning of February, 1755, and, after some detention and loss among the Colleries, one of whose polygars made a vigorous resistance, gained undisputed possession of Madura. Tinnevelly made no resistance, and all the surrounding country professed submission to the nabob. It was soon found, however, that the submission was only nominal. The tribute promised was not paid, and the whole amount of revenue realized fell far short of the expenses of the expedition. In consequence of this unexpected and most unsatisfactory result, a rigid inquiry was instituted, and Colonel Hunter, convicted of having increased his private fortune by presents obtained at the sacrifice of his public duties, was dismissed the service.

During these transactions the Mysoreans, who had continued to linger at Seringham, in the hope that force or intrigue might yet put them in possession of Trichinopoly, suddenly marched off to meet a double danger which was threatening their own territory. Balaji Rao had appeared on the frontiers with his devastating Marathas, and at the same time Salabat Jung was advancing at the head of an army to exact alleged arrears of tribute. Part of this army consisted of the French battalion headed by Bussy, who in consequence found himself in a very awkward position. By the terms of his service he could not refuse to follow Salabat Jung on any expedition which it pleased him to undertake; and yet how could he, as the avowed servant of the French Company, take part in an expedition against the Mysoreans, with whom they had long been and still were in alliance? From this dilemma Bussy relieved himself by dexterous diplomacy. By acting as a mediator between the parties he induced the Mysoreans to accept Salabat Jung as a protector against the threatened Maratha invasion. Balaji Rao, thus intimidated, was easily bribed to desist from his intended invasion; and Salabat Jung, after encamping under the walls of Seringapatam, consented to an arrangement which gave him a large sum in payment of past arrears, and a promise of punctuality in the future payment of tribute.

The British squadron under Admiral Watson, having no prospect of active employment on the Coromandel coast while the treaty between the two companies subsisted, returned in the beginning of November to Bombay. Here a considerable number of troops had recently arrived from England, for the purpose of acting in concert with Balaji Rao in an expedition which he had agreed to undertake against Aurangabad, the capital of the Deccan. It was hoped that Salabat Jung, thus attacked, would be frightened into a compromise, and induced to break off his connection with Bussy, as the only effectual means of securing his own safety. This expedition had been planned in England before the conditional treaty with the French was known, and the presidency of Bombay, taking the change of circumstances into consideration, resolved to abandon it. Clive, who had arrived with the troops with the rank of colonel in the king’s service, and the appointment of governor of Fort St. David, was of opinion that the expedition would not amount to a violation of the treaty, and urged that no time should be lost in carrying it into effect. His opinion, however, was overruled; the more easily, perhaps, that the original command of the expedition had been destined, not to him, though he was unquestionably best entitled to it, but to a Colonel Scott, on whom ministerial influence more than merit had conferred it. By Scott’s death, indeed, Clive had actually succeeded to the command, but the presidency were not to be moved from the view they had at first taken; and it was determined to employ the whole naval and military force then at Bombay on another expedition, as to the justice and expediency of which no doubt could be entertained in any quarter.

The west coast of India had long been infested by a body of pirates, who preyed indiscriminately on the vessels of all nations, native and foreign, and carried on their depredations so boldly, systematically, and successfully, as to have become in fact a formidable naval power. Kanhoji Angria, under whom they first acquired importance, was at one time commander of the Maratha fleet, and in this capacity held the government of Severndrug, a strong fort situated on a small rocky island close to the coast, about seventy-eight miles south from Bombay. In course of time, finding himself strong enough, he aspired to independence, and having gained over a large portion of the fleet, set his old masters at defiance. A war ensued, but the results were so unfavourable to the Marathas, who were not only worsted at sea, but so vigorously encountered on shore, that they at last, in 1713, consented to a peace which, in return for a promise of allegiance and tribute, left Kanhoji in possession of ten forts and sixteen places of less strength, with their dependent villages. It is not to be supposed that when he had thus succeeded in reaping the fruits of his depredations, he would forthwith desist from them. On the contrary, he was only emboldened to extend them, and continued to levy what he called his chouth by the indiscriminate plunder of all ships that came within his reach. Along the whole coast, from the vicinity of Bombay southwards to that of Goa, his vessels, protected by forts, and sheltered within creeks and the mouths of the numerous small streams which descend from the Western Ghats, lay ready to pounce on any hapless vessel that might chance to heave in sight. In carrying on their depredations the pirates derived great facilities from the nature of the navigation. The sea and land breezes blow alternately in the twenty-four hours, dividing the day between them. The land breezes, however, do not reach more than forty miles out to sea, and hence vessels, in order to profit by them, must keep within that distance from the coast. They were thus obliged to run into the very danger which they were anxious to avoid, and fell a frequent and easy prey to Kanhoji’s fleet of grabs and gallivats. These two classes of vessels, which, for mercantile purposes, are still in common use on the Malabar coast, were admirably adapted for predatory warfare. The grabs, varying in burden from 300 to 150 tons, and made broad in proportion to their length, for the purpose of drawing little water, carried a number of guns, two of them from nine to twelve pounders, placed on the main deck so as to fire through portholes over the prow, and the rest, usually six to nine pounders, fitted to give a broadside. The gallivats, which never exceeded seventy tons burden, combined the double advantage of sailing and row boats. Besides a very large triangular sail, they were provided with forty to fifty stout oars, which enabled them to act as tugs to the grabs, and pull them even in a calm at the rate of four miles an hour. Thus attacked, it was scarcely possible for a merchant vessel to escape. Her enemies keeping at first at a safe distance, plied her with shot till they had dismasted her or thoroughly damaged her rigging, and then, as she lay helpless in the water, either compelled her to strike, or boarded her by sending forward a number of gallivats, each with from 200 to 300 men.

The East India Company tried both force and negotiation with Kanhoji. After an ineffectual attempt to coerce him in 1717, Mr. Charles Boone, then governor of Bombay, tried the effect of a written remonstrance, and in November, 1720, received a long and rambling, but very characteristic answer, in which Kanhoji, instead of seeking to disguise or palliate the principles on which he acted, says: “As touching the desire of possessing what is another’s, I do not find the merchants exempt from this sort of ambition, for this is the way of the world; for God gives nothing immediately from himself, but takes from one to give to another. Whether this is right or no, who is able to determine? It little behaves the merchants, I am sure, to say our government is supported by violence, insults, and piracies, forasmuch as Maharaja (which is Sivaji), making war against four kings, founded and established his kingdom. This was our introduction and beginning, and whether or no by these ways this government hath proved durable, your excellency well knows, so likewise did your predecessors.”¹ In 1722 the British and Portuguese, the latter furnishing the land forces, and the former three ships of the line under Commodore Matthews, made an attack on the strong fort of Kolaba, at that time the chief seat of Kanhoji’s power; but his usual good fortune, or the cowardice of the Portuguese, saved him; in 1724 the Dutch, with seven ships, two bomb-vessels, and a body of troops, made an equally unsuccessful attempt on Viziadrug or Gheriah. These ignominious failures strengthening a prevalent belief that the forts attacked were really impregnable, the reduction of them was abandoned as hopeless; and as the only other alternative, the Company were reduced to the necessity of giving convoy to their merchant ships by means of a naval force, which was maintained at an annual expense of £50,000. The expense of this expedient was not the worst part of it. Humiliating as it was, it proved unavailing; and Kanhoji, only emboldened by the ineffectual resistance opposed to his ravages, continued them with more daring, and on a more extended scale. At his death, in the end of 1728, he was possessed of immense wealth, a powerful fleet, and a territory stretching 100 miles along the coast, and backward to the mountains.

Kanhoji Angria left two legitimate and three illegitimate sons. The former were recognized as his successors, and fixed their residence, the one at Kolaba and the other at Severndrug. Ultimately, after various changes, produced partly by domestic dissensions and partly by foreign influence, the succession passed to one of the illegitimate sons, called Tulaji, who made Gheriah his capital. It was against him that the squadron under Admiral Watson and the troops under Colonel Clive were now about to be employed. His depredations committed on all ships not bearing his passport had been severely felt, as well by the Marathas as by the Bombay presidency; and both as early as 1751 had come to a mutual determination to put him down as a common enemy. Actual steps, however, were not taken till 1755. The very year before, the pirates had given new proof of their formidable power, by attacking at once three Dutch ships of fifty, thirty-six, and eighteen guns, burning the two first, and capturing the last; and it was resolved, at the earnest entreaty of Balaji Baji Rao, the Peshwa, to attack Tulaji Angria both by land and sea. At this time neither Admiral Watson’s squadron nor the troops from England had arrived. The land forces were accordingly furnished entirely by the Marathas, who of course retained the command of them; but the ships, consisting of the Company’s marine force, the Protector, of forty-four guns, with a ketch of sixteen guns, and two bomb-vessels, and a Maratha fleet of seven grabs and sixty gallivats, were placed under the sole command of the Company’s chief naval officer, Commodore James. This great armament must have made it almost impossible to doubt of its sufficiency, and yet such was the exaggerated idea entertained of the strength of Angria’s forts, that the presidency instructed the commodore to content himself with blockade, instead of risking the safety of his vessels by attacking them. If such were the fears of the presidency, we can hardly blame the Marathas for being still more timorous. On anchoring fifteen miles north of Severndrug, and disembarking the troops, in number 10,000, to proceed the rest of the way by land, Commodore James learned that the enemy’s fleet was lying securely at anchor within the harbour of Severndrug, and might, by stealing upon it during the night, be so effectually blockaded, as to make escape impossible. He made his arrangements accordingly; but the Maratha admiral, after promising liberally to second him, soon found that he had promised more than he was able to perform. His officers refused to stir before morning; and thus, as much perhaps from treachery as from cowardice, appeared in sight only in time to alarm the enemy, and enable them to put to sea with all their ships.

Commodore James, after a chase, continued till the approach of night made it fruitless, returned to Severndrug. Beside the fort of this name on the island, there were three other forts on the mainland, within point blank distance of it. These, though originally built for the purpose of keeping it in check, had afterwards fallen into Angria’s hands, and now formed part of its defences. On returning dispirited from the chase, the commodore found the Maratha army engaged in laying siege to the land forts. Such at least was the name which they gave to their operations; but there could not be a more ludicrous misnomer, for they were firing only from a single gun, a four-pounder, at the distance of two miles. To keep up a blockade for the purpose of assisting such besiegers would have been worse than futile; and it was therefore evident that, if the instructions which the excessive caution of the Bombay presidency had dictated were literally observed, this expedition against the Angria pirates would necessarily prove, like the others which had preceded it, a complete failure. Rather than expose himself and his employers to such disgrace, Commodore James determined to act on his own responsibility, and try the effect of a bombardment. The result soon justified his decision. In the course of a single day Severndrug, which imaginary fears had magnified into an impregnable fortress, hung out a flag of truce, and the land forts almost immediately followed the example. After this brilliant exploit the fleet and army proceeded north six miles, and attacked the fortified island of Bancuti, which yielded almost without a show of resistance. The Maratha commander was so elated by a success which far exceeded his utmost hopes, that he endeavoured to tempt the commodore by an offer of 200,000 rupees to continue his career of victory, and complete it by the capture of Dabul, another of Angria’s strongholds, situated on the coast about eight miles farther south. The commodore’s own wish would have been to comply with this proposal, but having already exceeded his instructions he did not venture to act without express sanction. In the hope of obtaining it, he hastened off in the Protector to Bombay. Here, however, notwithstanding his unexpected achievements, the presidency were still haunted by doubts and fears, and he was reluctantly compelled to desist from further operations.

Such was the state of matters when the Bombay presidency, by the arrival of Admiral Watson and Colonel Clive, found themselves in possession of a powerful force, for which, from their determination not to employ the troops in the Deccan, as originally intended, they had no immediate occasion. In these circumstances, the work which Commodore James had so ably begun, naturally suggested itself, and it was determined to strike at the root of Tulaji Angria’s power by attacking Viziadrug or Gheriah. This place, situated about 170 miles south of Bombay, was very imperfectly known by Europeans, and figured in their imaginations as a fortress built, like Gibraltar, on an inaccessible rock, and at least equal to it in strength. So prevalent was the idea, that it was deemed prudent, before actually undertaking the expedition, to reconnoitre. With this view Commodore James proceeded with the Protector and two other ships, and, undeterred by the fleet which lay crowding the harbour, advanced sufficiently near to the fort to obtain a full survey of it. His report was, that Gheriah, though undoubtedly strong, was very far from being impregnable. Its site was a rocky promontory, connected with the mainland by a narrow belt of sand, and stretching south-west about a mile in length by a quarter of a mile in breadth. The face of the promontory all round, where washed by the sea, formed a continuous precipice about fifty feet high. Above this rose the fortifications, consisting of a double wall flanked with towers. The sandy isthmus contained the docks where the grabs were built and repaired; and immediately beyond, on the north, was the harbour, partly formed by the mouth of a stream which descended from the Ghats.

Commodore James returned from his survey in the end of December, 1755; but nearly six weeks were afterwards spent in making preliminary arrangements. Some of these related to the terms on which the Company and the Marathas were to cooperate, and it was expressly stipulated, that while the former were to obtain Bancuti and five adjoining villages in perpetuity, Gheriah, if taken, should belong to the latter. Another arrangement related to the distribution of the spoil which was expected to fall to the actual captors. With this the two governments could not well interfere; but it is difficult to understand how, in making this arrangement, the undoubted title of the Marathas to a fair proportion was altogether overlooked. Without paying the least regard to it, a committee of ten officers, representing the British naval and military forces about to be employed, met at Bombay, and made a distribution among themselves of the whole anticipated prize-money. In thus excluding their allies the British were guilty of an act of premeditated injustice. So mercenary, indeed, was the spirit which they manifested, that the two services were on the point of quarrelling as to the principle of division adopted. Clive’s rank as colonel entitled him only to the same share of prize-money as a naval captain; but it was contended on the part of the army, that his position as their commander-in-chief entitled him at least to share equally with Rear-admiral Pococke, who was only second in command in the navy. As neither service would give way, the quarrel would have proved serious had not Admiral Watson succeeded in terminating it by volunteering to make up the difference claimed out of his own pocket. There was, doubtless, generosity in the sacrifice thus offered by Admiral Watson, and generosity also in the conduct of Clive, who, when the actual deficiency, amounting to £1,000, was afterwards tendered to him, refused to accept it; but it would have been more creditable to themselves individually, and to the services over which they presided, had they in the first instance recognized the just claims of their allies, and afterwards, instead of countenancing, sternly rebuked the higgling and rapacious spirit manifested by their subordinates. On a review of the whole transaction, it is difficult to agree with Sir John Malcolm, who thinks it “pleasing on this occasion to record the conduct of both the naval and the military commanders,” though at the same time he cannot refrain from censuring “that spirit of plunder, and that passion for the rapid accumulation of wealth which actuated all ranks.”²

The expedition, consisting of four ships of the line, and other vessels, amounting in all to fourteen, having on board a battalion of 800 Europeans and 1,000 sepoys, sailed in the beginning of February, 1756. The Maratha army, under Ramaji Pant, had previously advanced from Choul, a town and seaport twenty-three miles south of Bombay. On the appearance of the fleet, Tulaji Angria, in alarm, left the defence of the fort to his brother, and repaired to the Maratha camp, where he endeavoured to avert his fate, by proposing terms of accommodation. Had he succeeded, the Marathas, on gaining possession, would doubtless have amply compensated themselves for the meditated injustice of excluding them from a share of the plunder. The British, convinced that this was their intention, and perhaps conscious that their own conduct afforded too good a justification of it, saw that no time was to be lost. The morning after their arrival, Admiral Watson having summoned the fort without receiving any answer, gave orders to prepare for action. The fleet, drawn up in two parallel divisions on the north side of the promontory, opened on the fort at the distance of only fifty yards, with 150 pieces of cannon and the mortars of five bomb-ketches. Within ten minutes, one of the grabs which crowded the harbour was set on fire by a shell, and the whole of the piratical fleet, which for fifty years had been the terror of the Malabar coast, was in flames. Before night set in, the enemy’s fire was silenced, but no surrender was offered. There was little doubt that the fort would be obliged to succumb, and the great question now was how to secure the spoil. According to the report of a deserter the Marathas were to be put in possession of the place on the following day. What would then become of the prize-money, about the distribution of which the two services had been prematurely quarrelling at Bombay? Once accessible to such dexterous pillagers, every vestige of it would speedily disappear. This was to be prevented at all hazards; and therefore, as if the capture of the fort had been only a secondary object, or as if the Marathas, to whom the delivery of it in the event of its capture was guaranteed by treaty, had no right to take possession, Clive landed his troops, and took up a position commanding the only approach to the fort by land. The Maratha commander, finding himself outwitted by this manoeuvre, made secret overtures to Captain Buchanan, the officer on picket, and offered him a bill on Bombay for 80,000 rupees (£8,000) if he would permit him and a few of his people to pass. The bribe, which would have rendered the receiver infamous, was indignantly rejected; but, as Duff remarks,³ “it is a circumstance worthy of notice as elucidating the character of the times, that the Bombay government thought common honesty so rare, as to present Captain Buchanan with a gold medal in consideration of his extraordinary good behaviour.”

The Marathas having been excluded access to the fort the bombardment was renewed, and at length, on the afternoon of the second day, on an intimation by the garrison to the advanced guard of the troops on shore, that they were ready to surrender, Clive marched up and took possession. The captors had reason to congratulate themselves on their good fortune. Though the cannonade had destroyed the artificial works, the rock still formed a natural bulwark, against which, if it had been valiantly defended, nothing could have availed but regular approaches on the land side. Within the fort were found 200 pieces of cannon, six brass mortars, a great quantity of naval and military stores of all kinds, and value in money and other effects to the amount of £120,000. This sum was divided as originally arranged at Bombay. The Marathas got nothing, and when they complained were told that whatever claim they might have had was forfeited by the treacherous attempt to bribe a British officer and obtain possession for themselves. It may be so; but, in considering the justice of the case, it is necessary to remember that those who now accused them of want of good faith had been the first to set them an example. It has been already mentioned, that in terms of a treaty made between the Company and the Marathas, the former obtained possession of Bancuti, with some dependencies, and the latter were, in the event of its capture, to obtain possession of Gheriah. Strange to say, the Company now showed great reluctance to fulfil their part of the agreement. Gheriah, it was thought, would be a most valuable acquisition to the Bombay presidency; and therefore, when delivery was asked by the Marathas, Mr. Bourchier, the governor, endeavoured to evade the obligation on pleas so frivolous as to be disgraceful. At first a compromise was attempted, and Bancuti was offered to the Marathas in exchange for Gheriah. When this was indignantly refused, a list of grievances was concocted, and the Marathas were told that they had failed in performing their part of the treaty—they had not properly fixed the limits of the Bancuti cession—they had not delivered up the person of Tulaji Angria—and the Peshwa had contracted for a supply of goods from the Dutch. The last grievance, though evidently regarded as the worst of all, had nothing to do with the point in question, and the other two were frivolous pretexts which scarcely deserved examination. Mr. Bourchier himself ultimately seemed ashamed of them, and the Marathas were put in possession of Gheriah. Pending the dispute the British squadron and troops remained to influence the issue, and did not return to Bombay till the beginning of April. Shortly after, they sailed for Madras, which was reached on the 12th of May. Clive’s ultimate destination was Fort St. David, where, by a singular coincidence, he entered on the duties of his office on the 20th of June, 1756, the very day on which Calcutta fell into the hands of Siraj-ud-daulah, Nabob of Bengal. This event, with the causes which led to it, and the momentous consequences by which it was followed, must now be traced.