Part 37 (2/2)

But Clive was on his track. Clive, filled-according to his letters--”with grief, horror, and resentment”; determined that the expedition should not ”end with the retaking of Calcutta only, but that the Company's estate in these parts shall be settled in a better and more lasting condition than ever.”

The story of his success is a long one, and is, unfortunately, marred by more than one doubtful, almost inexcusable act. But that he should utterly have escaped from the corruption of the whole atmosphere in India at this time is more than any one has any right to expect, even of a hero. He was but mortal, and from the time he was twenty, had had to steer his way through a perfect network of intrigue. Again, his complicity in much that happened is by no means a.s.sured, for we know that he was surrounded by enemies amongst his own countrymen, who, jealous of his success, angered with his blunt outspokenness, did not hesitate to injure him. Let us consider for a moment what Clive must have said to Captain Minchin, to Mr Drake, concerning their pleasure-trip down the Hooghly while their friends were suffocating in the Black Hole! We have his opinion of the ”Bengal gentlemen” in his letters, which runs thus:--

”The loss of private property and the means of recovering it are the only objects which take up their attention. I would have you guard against everything these gentlemen can say; for, believe me, they are bad subjects and rotten at heart, and will stick at nothing to prejudice you and the gentlemen of the Committee. Indeed, how should they do otherwise when they have not spared one another? Their conduct at Calcutta finds no excuse even amongst themselves; the riches of Peru or Mexico should not induce me to dwell among them.”

These are strong words, but they were written under strong emotion.

Clive, arriving at Calcutta, after a most fatiguing march of skirmishes along the river, had been mortified by finding that Admiral Watson, who had sailed up it and captured the town after two hours'

desultory cannonading, had already appointed a Captain Coote as military governor. This post, naturally, was Clive's by every right, and he objected strenuously. Matters went so far that the admiral threatened to fire on the fort if Clive refused to leave it, and though a compromise was effected, the affair shows the _animus_ against the young colonel.

He was hampered on all sides. We find him point-blank refusing to place himself under the orders of the Committee.

”I do not intend,” he writes, ”to make use of my power for acting separately from you, without you reduce me to the necessity for so doing; but as far as concerns the means of executing these powers, you will excuse me, gentlemen, if I refuse to give it up.”

The very existence, therefore, of this friction makes caution necessary in judging of Clive's actions, since, except from his own admissions, we have nothing on which absolute reliance can be placed.

He seems to have felt himself overmatched in every way. Certainly he proceeded with more caution than usual, except in regard to his attack on Suraj-ud-daula's camp outside the very walls of Calcutta.

Deputies had been sent overnight to interview the Nawab with a view to negotiation, and had returned in confusion, lightless, by secret paths, convinced that they were to be a.s.sa.s.sinated. Huge eunuchs and attendants, made still more terrific by stuffed coats and monstrous turbans, had scowled at them--the Nawab had been superciliously indifferent. Clive had about two thousand men under his command; the enemy, under Mir-Jaffar, Suraj-ud-daula's general, mustered forty thousand; but instant a.s.sault seemed necessary in face of that contemptuous discourtesy.

It began at dawn, and though, owing to fog, it was not so decisive as Clive had hoped, achieved its end, for the very next day the Nawab proposed peace.

Now in this, again, we must read between the lines. The terms of peace which was duly signed--Clive feeling himself far too weak to continue war, for a time at any rate--were not acceptable to the Committee, for Clive refused to allow the claims of ”private individuals to stand in the way of the interest of the Company.” The treaty, in fact, was singularly easy on the Nawab, but it must be remembered that Mr Holwell, who had himself been in the Black Hole, had exculpated Suraj-ud-daula from wilful partic.i.p.ation in the ordering of it; indeed, there seems little doubt that it was due to the reckless indifference of subordinates. Thus we see here an honest endeavour on Clive's part to deal with Suraj-ud-daula fairly and squarely. He trusted him, disregarding Admiral Watson's warning that without a good thras.h.i.+ng _first_, treaties with natives were of no avail.

His subsequent disgust at finding this warning had been correct must be admitted in defence of his future actions. After endless intriguing, difficult to follow, and still more difficult when followed to understand--for the friction between Clive and his environment seems to obscure everything--the young colonel (he was but thirty) seems to have reverted to his desire to dislodge the French, with which his services had begun, and, war between the nations being opportunely declared, he attacked and took Chandanagore.

This brought about, however, a complete revelation of the perfidy of Suraj-ud-daula, who in letters to the French governor (whom he calls ”_Zubat-ul-Tujar_,” the ”Essence of Merchants”), abuses ”_Sabut-Jung_”

(the ”Daring in War,” by which name Clive is still known in India), and promises his heart-whole support. ”Be confident,” he writes, ”look on my forces as your own.”

Clive, conscious of having acted against general opinion in trusting the man, resented this personally. Then Suraj-ud-daula was practically a monster in human form. By twenty, his vices were h.o.a.ry. So it may well have been honest disgust which made Clive first consider the possibility of deposing him in favour of Mir-Jaffar. Pages have been written inveighing against the enormity of intriguing against a ruler with whom you have a treaty of peace. And it is mean according to Western ideals. Still, Clive did not shrink from it; his verdict is brief: ”I am persuaded there can be neither peace nor security while such a monster reigns.”

So he did not reign long. Mir-Jaffar was deliberately nominated; a treaty, consisting of a preamble and thirteen articles, solemnly and secretly drawn up. In this Omichand, merchant, moneylender, spy, informer, a man of infinite influence at Murs.h.i.+dabad, was go-between.

As reward for his services and silence--for otherwise he threatened to warn his real master Suraj-ud-daula--he insisted on receiving 200,000. But, in truth, this treaty reads like a huge bill, for in consideration of being made Nawab, Mir-Jaffar promised the Company to pay, as damages for the sacking of Calcutta, 1,000,000, to the English inhabitants thereof 500,000, to the natives 200,000, and to the Armenians 70,000.

These were immense sums, but they were the result of absurdly exaggerated estimates of the treasure in Murs.h.i.+dabad, which was currently reported to be at least 24,000,000.

So the farce of friends.h.i.+p went on with the Nawab. It was a toss-up in the end whether Mir-Jaffar would be faithful to his master or to the treaty, and on the very eve of the battle of Pla.s.sey, that is to say, 23rd June 1757, Clive was still undetermined whether to attempt the final blow or to refrain from it. His reputation would have benefited if he had; for England would have won in the end without subterfuge.

Still, for all this excuse is to be found. Even the fact that Clive, in common with half the army and navy, was to receive a stipulated present--in his case a very large one--must not be counted, as it appears to be at the first blush, bribery and corruption. There was no law against the taking of douceurs; the employees of the Company, indeed, were ill paid because of such perquisites, without which they could not live. So, had he chosen to ask for a million of money, he could only have been counted extortionate in his demands. But the trick played upon Omichand with Clive's support and connivance seems--at least--despicable. Briefly, it comes to this. Englishmen were afraid of the scoundrel's blabbing, yet they were determined he should not have the 200,000 for which he stipulated. They therefore drew up two treaties, one with, one without, the stipulation. The one they showed to Omichand was forged; the other was really signed.

It seems almost incredible this should have been done by plain English gentlemen, let alone by one who in many ways was a hero; but so it was.

To avoid paying 200,000 out of revenues which did not belong to us, we resorted to fraud and forgery.

There is but one consolation in the case. Clive himself, the arch-actor, never regretted the act. When arraigned on this charge before the House of Commons he a.s.serted proudly that he thought ”it warrantable in such a case, and would do it again a hundred times. I had no interested motive in doing it, but did it with the design of disappointing the expectations of a rapacious man, for I think both art and policy warrantable in defeating the purposes of such a villain.”

But was Omichand ”the greatest villain upon earth” that Clive held him to be? Even this is doubtful, and our pity is his, no matter what he was, as we read the story, as told by Orme the historian, of the conference which was held the day after the battle.

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