Rulers of India: Lord Clive

by G. B. Malleson

His plan very nearly succeeded to an extent he had never contemplated. Clive had returned from his demonstration against d'Auteuil, and, worn out and weary, had laid himself down to sleep in a caravanserai behind the smaller of the two pagodas occupied as barracks by his men. They also slept. This was the position within the village when a spy, sent forward by the leader of the surprising party, returned with the information that Clive and his men were there, and were sleeping. This news decided the commander to press on and to seize the great Englishman where he lay. By means of his deserters he deceived the sentries. One of the former, an Irishman, informed the tired watchmen that he had been sent by Lawrence to strengthen Clive. The party was admitted, and one of the garrison was directed to lead its members to their quarters. They marched quietly through the lines of sleeping Maráthás and sipáhís till they reached the lesser pagoda. There they were again challenged. Their reply was a volley through its open doors on the prostrate forms within it. They went on then to the caravanserai and repeated their action there.

Again was Clive surprised. Once more were the coolness, the clearness of intellect, the self-reliance, of one man pitted against the craft and wiles of his enemies. Once again did the one man triumph. He was, I repeat, as much surprised as the least of his followers. Let the reader picture to himself the situation. To wake up in darkness and find an enemy, whose numbers were unknown, practically in possession of the centre of the town, in the native inn of which he had gone peacefully to sleep but two hours before; his followers being shot down; some of them scared; all just awakening; none of them cognizant of the cause of the uproar; many of the intruders of the same nation, speaking the same language as himself; all this occurring in the sandy plains of India: surely such a situation was sufficient to test the greatest, the most self-reliant, of warriors. It did not scare Clive. In one second his faculties were as clear as they had ever been in the peaceful council chamber. He recognized, on the instant, that the attackers had missed their mark. They had indeed fired a volley into the caravanserai in which he had lain with his officers, and had shattered the box which lay at his feet and killed the sentry beside him, but they had not stopped to finish their work. Instantly Clive ran into one of the pagodas, ordered the men there, some two hundred, to follow him, and formed them alongside of a large body of sipáhís who were firing volleys in every direction, whom he believed to be his own men. To them he went, upbraided them for their purposeless firing, and ordered them to cease. But the men were not his men, but French sipáhís. Before he had recognized the fact, one of them made a cut at him with his talwar, and wounded him. Still thinking they were his own men, Clive again urged them to cease fire. At the moment there came up six Frenchmen, who summoned him to surrender. Instantly he recognized the situation. Instantly his clear brain asserted itself. Drawing himself up he told the Frenchmen that it was for them and not for him to talk of surrender; bade them look round and they would see how they were surrounded. The men, scared by his bearing, ran off to communicate the information to their commander. Clive then proceeded to the other pagoda to rally the men posted there. The French sipáhís took advantage of his absence to evacuate the town. The Frenchmen and the European deserters meanwhile had occupied the lesser pagoda. They had become by this time more scared than the surprised English. Their leader had recognized that he was in a trap. His mental resources brought to him no consolation in his trouble. He waited quietly till the day broke, and then led his men into the open. But Clive had waited too; and when the Frenchmen emerged, he received them with a volley which shot down twelve of them. They hurried back to their place of shelter, when Clive, wishing to stop the effusion of blood, me to the front, pointed out to them their hopeless position, and offered them terms. One of them, an Irishman, levelled his musket at Clive, and fired point-blank at him. The ball missed Clive, but traversed the bodies of two sergeants behind him. The French commander showed his disapproval of the act by surrendering with his whole force. Clive had sent the Maráthás and the cavalry to pursue the French sipáhís. These caught them, and cut them up, it is said, to a man.

Thus ended the affair at Samiáveram. I have been particular in giving the details which illustrate the action of Clive, because they bring home to the reader the man as he was: a man not to be daunted, clear and cool-headed under the greatest difficulties; a born leader; resolute in action; merciful as soon as the difficulties had been overcome: a man, as Carlyle wrote of another, not less distinguished in his way, 'who will glare fiercely on an object, and see through it, and conquer it; for he has intellect, he has will, force beyond other men.'

The end was now approaching. On the 15th of May, Clive captured Paichanda. He then marched on Utátur, forced d'Auteuil to retreat on Volkonda, and, following him thither, compelled him (May 29) to surrender. Three days later Law followed his example. The entire French force before Trichinopoli gave itself up to Major Lawrence. Its native allies did the same. The one regrettable circumstance in the transaction was the murder of Chánda Sáhib at the instance of his rival.

After this, Clive returned to Fort St. David; was employed during the fall of the year in reducing places which still held out against the Nawáb. This campaign tried his constitution, already somewhat impaired, very severely, and on its conclusion, in the beginning of October, he proceeded to Madras to rest from his labours. There he married Miss Maskeleyne, the sister of a fellow-writer, with whom, in the earlier days of his Indian life, he had contracted a friendship. But his health continued to deteriorate, and he was forced to apply for leave to visit Europe. This having been granted, he quitted Madras in February, 1753, full of glory. His character had created his career. But for his daring, his prescience, his genius, and his great qualities as a soldier, it is more than probable that Dupleix would have succeeded in establishing the basis of a French empire in Southern India.

CHAPTER VIII

CLIVE IN ENGLAND; AND IN BENGAL

The visit of Clive to England was scarcely the success hoped for. His fame had preceded him, and the Court of Directors had assured him, through the Governor of Madras, that they had 'a just sense of his services.' Perhaps the person who had been the most astonished at his brilliant success was his own father. He had remarked, when he first heard of his victories, that 'the booby had some sense after all.' But then it must be recollected that the father had seen but little of the boy during his childhood and growing years, and that his unfavourable impression had been derived probably from the aversion shown by the lad to enter his own profession. But even he, now, was prepared to follow the stream, and give a hearty reception to the defender of Arcot. So, at first, Clive was fêted and toasted in a manner which must have convinced him that his services were appreciated. The Court of Directors carried out the promise I have referred to by giving a great banquet in his honour, and by voting him a diamond-hilted sword as a token of their esteem. This honour, however, Clive declined unless a similar decoration were also bestowed upon the chief under whom he had first served, Major Stringer Lawrence.