affairs. The object of his diplomacy was at this time simply to get
money. The finances of his government were in an embarrassed state; and
this embarrassment he was determined to relieve by some means, fair or
foul. The principle which directed all his dealings with his neighbors
is fully expressed by the old motto of one of the great predatory
families of Teviotdale, "Thou shalt want ere I want." He seems to have
laid it down, as a fundamental proposition which could not be disputed,
that when he had not as many lacs of rupees as the public service
required, he was to take them from anybody who had. One thing, indeed,
is to be said in excuse for him. The pressure applied to him by his
employers at home was such as only the highest virtue could have
withstood, such as left him no choice except to commit great wrongs, or
to resign his high post, and with that post all his hopes of fortune and
distinction. The Directors, it is true, never enjoined or applauded any
crime. Far from it. Whoever examines their letters written at that time
will find there many just and humane sentiments, many excellent
precepts, in short, an admirable code of political ethics. But every
exhortation is modified or nullified by a demand for money. "Govern
leniently, and send more money; practise strict justice and moderation
towards neighboring powers, and send more money;" this is in truth the
sum of almost all the instructions that Hastings ever received from
home. Now these instructions, being interpreted, mean simply, "Be the
father and the oppressor of the people; be just and unjust, moderate and
rapacious." The Directors dealt with India as the church, in the good
old times, dealt with a heretic. They delivered the victim over to the
executioners, with an earnest request that all possible tenderness might
be shown. We by no means accuse or suspect those who framed these
despatches of hypocrisy. It is probable that, writing fifteen thousand
miles from the place where their orders were to be carried into effect,
they never perceived the gross inconsistency of which they were guilty.
But the inconsistency was at once manifest to their vicegerent at
Calcutta, who, with an empty treasury, with an unpaid army, with his own
salary often in arrear, with deficient crops, with government tenants
daily running away, was called upon to remit home another half million
without fail. Hastings saw that it was absolutely necessary for him to
disregard either the moral discourses or the pecuniary requisitions of
his employers. Being forced to disobey them in something, he had to
consider what kind of disobedience they would most readily pardon; and
he correctly judged that the safest course would be to neglect the
sermons and to find the rupees.
A mind so fertile as his, and so little restrained by conscientious
scruples, speedily discovered several modes of relieving the financial
embarrassments of the government. The allowance of the Nabob of Bengal
was reduced at a stroke from three hundred and twenty thousand pounds a
year to half that sum. The Company had bound itself to pay near three
hundred thousand pounds a year to the Great Mogul, as a mark of homage
for the provinces which he had entrusted to their care; and they had
ceded to him the districts of Corah and Allahabad. On the plea that the
Mogul was not really independent, but merely a tool in the hands of
others, Hastings determined to retract these concessions. He accordingly
declared that the English would pay no more tribute, and sent troops to
occupy Allahabad and Corah. The situation of these places was such that
there would be little advantage and great expense in retaining them.
Hastings, who wanted money and not territory, determined to sell them. A
purchaser was not wanting. The rich province of Oude had, in the general
dissolution of the Mogul Empire, fallen to the share of the great
Mussulman house by which it is still governed. About twenty years ago,
this house, by the permission of the British government, assumed the
royal title; but, in the time of Warren Hastings, such an assumption
would have been considered by the Mahommedans of India as a monstrous
impiety. The Prince of Oude, though he held the power, did not venture
to use the style of sovereignty. To the appellation of Nabob or Viceroy,
he added that of Vizier of the monarchy of Hindostan, just as in the
last century the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg, though independent
of the Emperor, and often in arms against him, were proud to style
themselves his Grand Chamberlain and Grand Marshal. Sujah Dowlah, then
Nabob Vizier, was on excellent terms with the English. He had a large
treasure. Allahabad and Corah were so situated that they might be of use
to him and could be of none to the Company. The buyer and seller soon
came to an understanding; and the provinces which had been torn from the
Mogul were made over to the government of Oude for about half a million
sterling.
But there was another matter still more important to be settled by the
Vizier and the Governor. The fate of a brave people was to be decided.
It was decided in a manner which has left a lasting stain on the fame of
Hastings and of England.
The people of Central Asia had always been to the inhabitants of India
what the warriors of the German forests were to the subjects of the
decaying monarchy of Rome. The dark, slender, and timid Hindoo shrank
from a conflict with the strong muscle and resolute spirit of the fair
race, which dwelt beyond the passes. There is reason to believe that, at
a period anterior to the dawn of regular history, the people who spoke
the rich and flexible Sanskrit came from regions lying far beyond the
Hyphasis and the Hystaspes, and imposed their yoke on the children of
the soil. It is certain that, during the last ten centuries, a
succession of invaders descended from the west on Hindostan; nor was the
course of conquest ever turned back towards the setting sun, till that
memorable campaign in which the cross of St. George was planted on the
walls of Ghizni.
The Emperors of Hindostan themselves came from the other side of the
great mountain ridge; and it had always been their practice to recruit
their army from the hardy and valiant race from which their own
illustrious house sprang. Among the military adventurers who were
allured to the Mogul standards from the neighborhood of Cabul and
Candahar were conspicuous several gallant bands, known by the name of
the Rohillas. Their services had been rewarded with large tracts of
land, fiefs of the spear, if we may use an expression drawn from an
analogous state of things, in that fertile plain through which the
Ramgunga flows from the snowy heights of Kumaon to join the Ganges. In
the general confusion which followed the death of Aurungzebe, the
warlike colony became virtually independent. The Rohillas were
distinguished from the other inhabitants of India by a peculiarly fair
complexion. They were more honorably distinguished by courage in war,
and by skill in the arts of peace. While anarchy raged from Lahore to
Cape Comorin, their little territory enjoyed the blessings of repose
under the guardianship of valor. Agriculture and commerce nourished
among them; nor were they negligent of rhetoric and poetry. Many persons
now living have heard aged men talk with regret of the golden days when
the Afghan princes ruled in the vale of Rohilcund.
Sujah Dowlah had set his heart on adding this rich district to his own
principality. Right, or show of right, he had absolutely none. His claim
was in no respect better founded than that of Catherine to Poland, or
that of the Bonaparte family to Spain. The Rohillas held their country
by exactly the same title by which he held his, and had governed their
country far better than his had ever been governed. Nor were they a
people whom it was perfectly safe to attack. Their land was indeed an
open plain, destitute of natural defences; but their veins were full of
the high blood of Afghanistan. As soldiers, they had not the steadiness
which is seldom found except in company with strict discipline; but
their impetuous valor had been proved on many fields of battle. It was
said that their chiefs, when united by common peril, could bring eighty
thousand men into the field. Sujah Dowlah had himself seen them fight,
and wisely shrank from a conflict with them. There was in India one
army, and only one, against which even those proud Caucasian tribes
could not stand. It had been abundantly proved that neither tenfold
odds, nor the martial ardor of the boldest Asiatic nations, could avail
aught against English science and resolution. Was it possible to induce
the Governor of Bengal to let out to hire the irresistible energies of
the imperial people, the skill against which the ablest chiefs of
Hindostan were helpless as infants, the discipline which had so often
triumphed over the frantic struggles of fanaticism and despair, the
unconquerable British courage which is never so sedate and stubborn as
towards the close of a doubtful and murderous day?
This was what the Nabob Vizier asked, and what Hastings granted. A
bargain was soon struck. Each of the negotiators had what the other
wanted. Hastings was in need of funds to carry on the government of
Bengal, and to send remittances to London; and Sujah Dowlah had an ample
revenue. Sujah Dowlah was bent on subjugating the Rohillas; and Hastings
had at his disposal the only force by which the Rohillas could be
subjugated. It was agreed that an English army should be lent to the
Nabob Vizier, and that, for the loan, he should pay four hundred
thousand pounds sterling, besides defraying all the charge of the troops
while employed in his service.
"I really cannot see," says Mr. Gleig, "upon what grounds, either of
political or moral justice, this proposition deserves to be stigmatized
as infamous." If we understand the meaning of words, it is infamous to
commit a wicked action for hire, and it is wicked to engage in war
without provocation. In this particular war, scarcely one aggravating
circumstance was wanting. The object of the Rohilla war was this, to
deprive a large population, who had never done us the least harm, of a
good government, and to place them, against their will, under an
execrably bad one. Nay, even this is not all. England now descended far
below the level even of those petty German princes who, about the same
time, sold us troops to fight the Americans. The hussar-mongers of Hesse
and Anspach had at least the assurance that the expeditions on which
their soldiers were to be employed would be conducted in conformity with
the humane rules of civilized warfare. Was the Rohilla war likely to be
so conducted? Did the Governor stipulate that it should be so conducted?
He well knew what Indian warfare was. He well knew that the power which
he covenanted to put into Sujah Dowlah's hands would, in all
probability, be atrociously abused; and he required no guarantee, no
promise that it should not be so abused. He did not even reserve to
himself the right of withdrawing his aid in case of abuse, however
gross. We are almost ashamed to notice Major Scott's absurd plea, that
Hastings was justified in letting out English troops to slaughter the
Rohillas, because the Rohillas were not of Indian race, but a colony
from a distant country. What were the English themselves? Was it for
them to proclaim a crusade for the expulsion of all intruders from the
countries watered by the Ganges? Did it lie in their mouths to contend
that a foreign settler who establishes an empire in India is a _caput
lupinum_? What would they have said if any other power had, on such a
ground, attacked Madras or Calcutta, without the slightest provocation?
Such a defence was wanting to make the infamy of the transaction
complete. The atrocity of the crime, and the hypocrisy of the apology,
are worthy of each other.
One of the three brigades of which the Bengal army consisted was sent
under Colonel Champion to join Sujah Dowlah's forces. The Rohillas
expostulated, entreated, offered a large ransom, but in vain. They then
resolved to defend themselves to the last. A bloody battle was fought.
"The enemy," says Colonel Champion, "gave proof of a good share of
military knowledge; and it is impossible to describe a more obstinate
firmness of resolution than they displayed." The dastardly sovereign of
Oude fled from the field. The English were left unsupported; but their
fire and their charge were irresistible. It was not, however, till the
most distinguished chiefs had fallen, fighting bravely at the head of
their troops, that the Rohilla ranks gave way. Then the Nabob Vizier and
his rabble made their appearance, and hastened to plunder the camp of
the valiant enemies, whom they had never dared to look in the face. The
soldiers of the Company, trained in an exact discipline, kept unbroken
order, while the tents were pillaged by these worthless allies. But many
voices were heard to exclaim, "We have had all the fighting, and those
rogues are to have all the profit!"
Then the horrors of Indian war were let loose on the fair valleys and
cities of Rohilcund. The whole country was in a blaze. More than a
hundred thousand people fled from their homes to pestilential jungles,
preferring famine, and fever, and the haunts of tigers, to the tyranny
of him to whom an English and a Christian government had, for shameful
lucre, sold their substance, and their blood, and the honor of their
wives and daughters. Colonel Champion remonstrated with the Nabob
Vizier, and sent strong representations to Fort William; but the
Governor had made no conditions as to the mode in which the war was to
be carried on. He had troubled himself about nothing but his forty lacs;
and, though he might disapprove of Sujah Dowlah's wanton barbarity, he
did not think himself entitled to interfere, except by offering advice.
This delicacy excites the admiration of the biographer. "Mr. Hastings,"
he says, "could not himself dictate to the Nabob, nor permit the
commander of the Company's troops to dictate how the war was to be
carried on." No, to be sure. Mr. Hastings had only to put down by main
force the brave struggles of innocent men fighting for their liberty.
Their military resistance crushed, his duties ended; and he had then
only to fold his arms and look on, while their villages were burned,
their children butchered, and their women violated. Will Mr. Gleig
seriously maintain this opinion? Is any rule more plain than this, that
whoever voluntarily gives to another irresistible power over human
beings is bound to take order that such power shall not be barbarously
abused? But we beg pardon of our readers for arguing a point so clear.
We hasten to the end of this sad and disgraceful story. The war ceased.
The finest population in India was subjected to a greedy, cowardly,
cruel tyrant. Commerce and agriculture languished. The rich province
which had tempted the cupidity of Sujah Dowlah became the most miserable
part even of his miserable dominions. Yet is the injured nation not
extinct. At long intervals gleams of its ancient spirit have flashed
forth; and even at this day, valor, and self-respect, and a chivalrous
feeling rare among Asiatics, and a bitter remembrance of the great crime
of England, distinguish that noble Afghan race. To this day they are
regarded as the best of all sepoys at the cold steel; and it was very
recently remarked, by one who had enjoyed great opportunities of
observation, that the only natives of India to whom the word "gentleman"
can with perfect propriety be applied are to be found among the
Rohillas.
Whatever we may think of the morality of Hastings, it cannot be denied
that the financial results of his policy did honor to his talents. In
less than two years after he assumed the government, he had, without
imposing any additional burdens on the people subject to his authority,
added about four hundred and fifty thousand pounds to the annual income
of the Company, besides procuring about a million in ready money. He had
also relieved the finances of Bengal from military expenditure,
amounting to near a quarter of a million a year, and had thrown that
charge on the Nabob of Oude. There can be no doubt that this was a
result which, if it had been obtained by honest means, would have
entitled him to the warmest gratitude of his country, and which, by
whatever means obtained, proved that he possessed great talents for
administration.
In the meantime, Parliament had been engaged in long and grave
discussions on Asiatic affairs. The ministry of Lord North, in the
session of 1773, introduced a measure which made a considerable change
in the constitution of the Indian government. This law, known by the
name of the Regulating Act, provided that the presidency of Bengal
should exercise a control over the other possessions of the Company;
that the chief of that presidency should be styled Governor-General;
that he should be assisted by four Councillors; and that a supreme court
of judicature, consisting of a chief justice and three inferior judges,
should be established at Calcutta. This court was made independent of
the Governor-General and Council, and was entrusted with a civil and
criminal jurisdiction of immense and, at the same time, of undefined
extent.
The Governor-General and Councillors were named in the act, and were to
hold their situations for five years. Hastings was to be the first
Governor-General. One of the four new Councillors, Mr. Barwell, an
experienced servant of the Company, was then in India. The other three,
General Clavering, Mr. Monson, and Mr. Francis, were sent out from
England.
The ablest of the new Councillors was, beyond all doubt, Philip Francis.
His acknowledged compositions prove that he possessed considerable
eloquence and information. Several years passed in the public offices
had formed him to habits of business. His enemies have never denied that
he had a fearless and manly spirit; and his friends, we are afraid, must
acknowledge that his estimate of himself was extravagantly high, that
his temper was irritable, that his deportment was often rude and
petulant, and that his hatred was of intense bitterness and long
duration.
It is scarcely possible to mention this eminent man without adverting
for a moment to the question which his name at once suggests to every
mind. Was he the author of the Letters of Junius? Our own firm belief
is that he was. The evidence is, we think, such as would support a
verdict in a civil, nay, in a criminal proceeding. The handwriting of
Junius is the very peculiar handwriting of Francis, slightly disguised.
As to the position, pursuits, and connections of Junius, the following
are the most important facts which can be considered as clearly proved:
first, that he was acquainted with the technical forms of the secretary
of state's office; secondly, that he was intimately acquainted with the
business of the war office; thirdly, that he, during the year 1770,
attended debates in the House of Lords, and took notes of speeches,
particularly of the speeches of Lord Chatham; fourthly, that he bitterly
resented the appointment of Mr. Chamier to the place of deputy
secretary-at-war; fifthly, that he was bound by some strong tie to the
first Lord Holland. Now, Francis passed some years in the secretary of
state's office. He was subsequently chief clerk of the war office. He
repeatedly mentioned that he had himself, in 1770, heard speeches of
Lord Chatham; and some of these speeches were actually printed from his
notes. He resigned his clerkship at the war office from resentment at
the appointment of Mr. Chamier. It was by Lord Holland that he was first
introduced into the public service. Now, here are five marks, all of
which ought to be found in Junius. They are all five found in Francis.
We do not believe that more than two of them can be found in any other
person whatever. If this argument does not settle the question, there is
an end of all reasoning on circumstantial evidence.
The internal evidence seems to us to point the same way. The style of
Francis bears a strong resemblance to that of Junius; nor are we
disposed to admit, what is generally taken for granted, that the
acknowledged compositions of Francis are very decidedly inferior to the
anonymous letters. The argument from inferiority, at all events, is one
which may be urged with at least equal force against every claimant
that has ever been mentioned, with the single exception of Burke; and it
would be a waste of time to prove that Burke was not Junius. And what
conclusion, after all, can be drawn from mere inferiority? Every writer
must produce his best work; and the interval between his best work and
his second best work may be very wide indeed. Nobody will say that the
best letters of Junius are more decidedly superior to the acknowledged
works of Francis than three or four of Corneille's tragedies to the
rest, than three or four of Ben Jonson's comedies to the rest, than the
Pilgrim's Progress to the other works of Bunyan, than Don Quixote to the
other works of Cervantes. Nay, it is certain that Junius, whoever he may
have been, was a most unequal writer. To go no further than the letters
which bear the signature of Junius--the letter to the king, and the
letters to Horne Tooke, have little in common, except the asperity; and
asperity was an ingredient seldom wanting either in the writings or in
the speeches of Francis.
Indeed one of the strongest reasons for believing that Francis was
Junius is the moral resemblance between the two men. It is not
difficult, from the letters which, under various signatures, are known
to have been written by Junius, and from his dealings with Woodfall and
others, to form a tolerably correct notion of his character. He was
clearly a man not destitute of real patriotism and magnanimity, a man
whose vices were not of a sordid kind. But he must also have been a man
in the highest degree arrogant and insolent, a man prone to malevolence,
and prone to the error of mistaking his malevolence for public virtue.
"Doest thou well to be angry?" was the question asked in old time of the
Hebrew prophet. And he answered, "I do well." This was evidently the
temper of Junius; and to this cause we attribute the savage cruelty
which disgraces several of his letters. No man is so merciless as he
who, under a strong self-delusion, confounds his antipathies with his
duties. It may be added that Junius, though allied with the democratic
party by common enmities, was the very opposite of a democratic
politician. While attacking individuals with a ferocity which
perpetually violated all the laws of literary warfare, he regarded the
most defective parts of old institutions with a respect amounting to
pedantry, pleaded the cause of Old Sarum with fervor, and contemptuously
told the capitalists of Manchester and Leeds that, if they wanted votes,
they might buy land and become freeholders of Lancashire and Yorkshire.
All this, we believe, might stand, with scarcely any change, for a
character of Philip Francis.
It is not strange that the great anonymous writer should have been
willing at that time to leave the country which had been so powerfully
stirred by his eloquence. Everything had gone against him. That party
which he clearly preferred to every other, the party of George
Grenville, had been scattered by the death of its chief; and Lord
Suffolk had led the greater part of it over to the ministerial benches.
The ferment produced by the Middlesex election had gone down. Every
faction must have been alike an object of aversion to Junius. His
opinions on domestic affairs separated him from the ministry; his
opinions on colonial affairs from the opposition. Under such
circumstances, he had thrown down his pen in misanthropical despair. His
farewell letter to Woodfall bears date the nineteenth of January, 1773.
In that letter, he declared that he must be an idiot to write again;
that he had meant well by the cause and the public; that both were given
up; that there were not ten men who would act steadily together on any
question. "But it is all alike," he added, "vile and contemptible. You
have never flinched that I know of; and I shall always rejoice to hear
of your prosperity." These were the last words of Junius. In a year from
that time, Philip Francis was on his voyage to Bengal.
With the three new Councillors came out the judges of the Supreme
Court. The chief justice was Sir Elijah Impey. He was an old
acquaintance of Hastings; and it is probable that the Governor-General,
if he had searched through all the inns of court, could not have found
an equally serviceable tool. But the members of Council were by no means
in an obsequious mood. Hastings greatly disliked the new form of
government, and had no very high opinion of his coadjutors. They had
heard of this, and were disposed to be suspicious and punctilious. When
men are in such a frame of mind, any trifle is sufficient to give
occasion for dispute. The members of Council expected a salute of
twenty-one guns from the batteries of Fort William. Hastings allowed
them only seventeen. They landed in ill-humor. The first civilities were
exchanged with cold reserve. On the morrow commenced that long quarrel
which, after distracting British India, was renewed in England, and in
which all the most eminent statesmen and orators of the age took active
part on one or the other side.