In the end of the year 1728, the infant Clive seems to have had a dangerous attack of fever. "If I were given to be superstitious," says Mr. Bayley, writing to the Rev. Mr. King at Styche[15], "and to believe things ominous, I think I should omit writing to you; for it has been poor Bob's fate to grow worse, just after I have finished my letters. From the time of Andrew's leaving us till yesterday about five o'clock, he was worse than at any time yet; and the doctor discovered, by all his behaviour, that he apprehended full as much danger as ever; but since that time he has been much better, and we hope that then was the crisis of the fever. He slept pretty well last night; and, when awake, talked with his usual cheerfulness; and, I can say, is now better, and in a more hopeful way to recover than hitherto, if no relapse come upon him. He is, as you may well imagine, very weak; but the doctor doubts not his getting more strength if the fever continues (as it has begun) to leave him. This is what account I can now send: you will excuse haste. Our services wait on Madame Clive and all the family."
Two days after Mr. Bayley again writes Mr. King:—
"Monday Morning, Nine o'clock.
"Thank God, I do now inform you that Bob continues better, and is in a very likely way to recover. We hope that the crisis of the fever was on Saturday last about noon, it having abated ever since. His exceeding patience is also exchanged for as eminent a degree of crossness, which we take as a good omen of his mending. I am writing this close to his bed-side, and he is crying with the greatest impatience for me to lie on the bed with him; nor will he be quiet one moment, with all the fine words I can give him, which now makes me conclude abruptly," &c.
On the 11th of January, Mr. Bayley informs his correspondent, that Robert had had another severe attack of fever; from which, however, he was so far recovered as to be very merry and able to walk himself. In answer to some remarks of Mr. King, he details the symptoms, and mode of cure adopted. The fever seems to have been connected with the stomach, and yielded to the usual remedies.
Mr. Bayley, about a fortnight afterwards, informs Mr. King of his nephew's recovery:—
"Manchester, Jan. 26.[16] 1728.
"Sabbath Day evening, ten o'clock.
"Rev. and dear Sir,"Yesterday Bob came down into the parlour, the first time. He goes on successfully with the bark, and is very merry, and good as it is possible. He is poor and thin; but in a brave way, and has a stomach for more meat than we dare give him. He can run about, and chatters continually, and is always asking questions, one of which I must enquire of you, before I can answer him; viz., when yourself and his aunt Fanny will come over to see him? We are all pretty well, and full of that joy which so happy any issue of so long and threatening an affliction naturally produceth. Our sincere respects and services to all: conclude me," &c.
"This afternoon, Bob, with some reluctance, suffered his aunt Bay[17] to go to chapel."
Young Clive seems to have resided chiefly with his aunt Bayley, down to at least the year 1732. In June of that year, Mr. Bayley gives his friend Mr. King some very characteristic traits of his nephew's temper. "I hope," says he[18], "I have made a little farther conquest over Bob, and that he regards me, in some degree, as well as his aunt Bay. He has just had a suit of new clothes, and promises by his reformation to deserve them. I am satisfied that his fighting (to which he is out of measure addicted) gives his temper a fierceness and imperiousness, that he flies out upon every trifling occasion: for this reason I do what I can to suppress the hero, that I may help forward the more valuable qualities of meekness, benevolence, and patience. I assure you, Sir, it is a matter of concern to us, as it is of importance to himself, that he may be a good and virtuous man, to which no care of ours shall be wanting."
These strong and early indications of future character, for he had not yet attained the age of seven, are not a little curious. The spirit of daring and of command seems to have been natural to him. The anxious care of his relations may have softened and soothed his impetuosity, but could not change the bent of his genius. The spirit of "the Hero," which already began to show itself, seems to have turned him from the peaceful sports of childhood, just as, at a later period, it called him to exchange his mercantile studies and occupations for the bustle and turmoil of war, so much more congenial to the ardour of his mind.