The death of Chunda Sahib, the surrender of the French troops, and the dissensions to which these events gave rise between Mahommed Ali and his allies have already been recorded. Dupleix, who never desponded, seeing in these dissensions the means of retrieving the interests of his nation, fomented them by every means in his power; and his intrigues to gain the Mysorians and the Mahrattas were powerfully aided by his lady, who, born in India, and understanding not only the languages but the character of the natives, is stated to have been on this occasion, as on various others, of the greatest use to her ambitious husband.
The Regent of Mysore was promised Trichinopoly, and the Mahrattas plunder and money. Both had secretly entered into engagements, which they were encouraged to avow by the complete failure of an expedition[63] which the governor and committee of Fort St. David sent to attack Gingee, contrary to the expressed opinion of Major Lawrence. Fortunately, however, the presumption of Dupleix gave that able officer an opportunity of correcting the bad impression which had been thus made, by completely defeating a French force[64] (1752), under Monsieur Kirjean, a nephew of the governor, who had been compelled against his better judgment, by the orders of his too ardent uncle, to hazard this engagement. The Mahrattas, on the occurrence of this success, declared their continued adherence to the cause of Mahommed Ali, and were employed with Major Lawrence in reducing the country near Pondicherry. To aid this operation, a detachment was required to attack the forts of Chingliput and Covelong; but there were no troops to form it, except two hundred European recruits just landed at Madras, who are represented as being the very refuse of the jails of London, and five hundred newly raised sepoys. These men had neither character nor discipline, and seemed so little calculated to take forts, that no officer could be expected to risk his reputation at their head:—but Clive, though in a state of very impaired health,—the consequence of his former fatigues,—volunteered to accept this unpromising command, and marched with his small and ill-composed detachment, and four twenty-four pounders, to attack Covelong[65], a square fort, which, though it had no ditch, mounted thirty pieces of cannon, and was defended by fifty Europeans and three hundred sepoys.
A party having been sent in advance under Lieutenant Cooper, to take up a position in a garden six hundred yards from the fort, were attacked by the enemy: they stood for a short time, but, on Lieutenant Cooper being shot, were so dismayed that they fled with precipitation, and were with difficulty prevented by Clive from continuing their flight to Madras. The garden was retaken, a battery constructed, and a post formed on its left, near a large rock. The fire of the enemy, however, so disconcerted Clive's party, that they seemed prepared to fly at every alarm[66]: a shot which struck the rock, and with its splinters killed and wounded fourteen, so frightened the whole, that it was some time before they would again venture to expose themselves; and one of the advanced sentries was found, several hours afterwards, concealed in the bottom of a well!
Clive, wisely judging that shame would operate more powerfully than severity in reclaiming his men from such cowardice, exposed himself to the hottest of the enemy's fire, and his example brought them in a very few days to tolerable firmness; while their confidence in themselves and their leader was increased by the surrender of the fort, and still more by subsequent events.
The morning after Covelong was taken, Ensign Joseph Smith (a name destined to fill a large space in the future wars of Coromandel) discovered a large body of men advancing, which he justly considered to be a detachment from Chingliput to relieve Covelong. He communicated what he had seen to Clive, who, taking every precaution to prevent this corps from learning that the fort had fallen, laid an ambuscade on their route, and the concealed troops (so close and so well directed was their fire) killed one hundred men at the first volley:—many threw down their arms and fled, while the commanding officer of the corps, twenty-five Europeans, and two hundred and fifty sepoys, with two pieces of cannon, were taken.
The news of this disaster soon reached Chingliput[67] (1752). Clive was there almost as soon, and, knowing well the influence of the impression his success had made, he immediately advanced his battery from a distance of five hundred yards, where it was first constructed, to within two hundred of the outer wall, which he soon breached as well as the inner: but there was still the ditch to be filled; for this fort, strong in some parts by the impracticability[68] of approach, had been fortified with great care in others; and Clive, now confident in his men, determined on an assault. The French commandant, observing his preparations, offered to capitulate on the garrison being permitted to retire with the honours of war; terms which Clive very readily granted, as the place, if obstinately defended, still possessed means of formidable resistance.
It would be difficult to find an example, in any regular army, of one so young and of such a subordinate rank as Clive, having crowded into the short space of two years such a series of successful enterprises. He was not more than twenty-seven years of age, and had only within the last year been promoted to the rank of Captain. After being distinguished on several occasions by the most resolute valour, he had displayed at Arcot, and during the operations which followed that memorable siege, all the superior qualities of a military leader. In the wisdom with which he planned, and the ability and gallantry with which he executed, those operations which so materially contributed to the defeat and capture of the French at Seringham, he evinced a calmness of courage, a clearness of judgment, and a decision of spirit, which gave confidence to his own force, and struck terror into that of the enemy: and in his last expedition against Covelong and Chingliput he showed, that where real military talent exists in the leader, there is no description of troops with which he may not command success: he can frame the machine at the moment to his purpose, while the ordinary man of routine can only employ it when prepared to his hands. Some writers, seemingly desirous of detracting from the character which Clive thus early established, would insinuate that no marked superiority of talent was exhibited in these events, and have grounded their opinion on the comparative smallness of the numbers of regular troops, and the composition of the other parts of the forces engaged in these contests; but, with those who are qualified, by experience, to decide on this subject, and who can appreciate the difficulties these very circumstances created, Clive's reputation will rise in proportion to the smallness and unconnected nature of those means with which, at this early stage of his life, he accomplished objects so important to his country. It is not in the use of ordinary means that genius appears to most advantage: it has its amplest range, and its noblest triumph, where it labours amidst new and untried objects, and converts them to purposes for which they had always before been judged incompetent. And no commander of modern times saw more clearly, seized more powerfully, or used more successfully, than Clive, the various and often discordant materials placed within his reach. Even at this early period of his career, he diffused his own spirit around him. The troops under his direction, however dispirited before, believed that they were destined to victory and glory: and that victory and glory did invariably attend them, was owing to his genius alone.