conformity with his instructions, he would nevertheless have held
himself bound by their acts, if Clavering had not attempted to seize the
supreme power by violence. Whether this assertion were or were not true,
it cannot be doubted that the imprudence of Clavering gave Hastings
an advantage. The General sent for the keys of the fort and of the
treasury, took possession of the records, and held a council at which
Francis attended. Hastings took the chair in another apartment, and
Barwell sat with him. Each of the two parties had a plausible show of
right. There was no authority entitled to their obedience within fifteen
thousand miles. It seemed that there remained no way of settling the
dispute except an appeal to arms; {56}and from such an appeal Hastings,
confident of his influence over his countrymen in India, was not
inclined to shrink. He directed the officers of the garrison at Fort
William and of all the neighbouring; stations to obey no orders but his.
At the same time, with admirable judgment, he offered to submit the
case to the Supreme Court, and to abide by its decision. By making
this proposition he risked nothing; yet it was a proposition which his
opponents could hardly reject. Nobody could be treated as a criminal
for obeying what the judges should solemnly pronounce to be the lawful
government. The boldest man would shrink from taking arms in defence
of what the judges should pronounce to be usurpation. Clavering and
Francis, after some delay, unwillingly consented to abide by the award
of the court. The court pronounced that the resignation was invalid, and
that therefore Hastings was still Governor-General under the Regulating
Act; and the defeated members of the Council, finding that the sense of
the whole settlement was against them, acquiesced in the decision.
About this time arrived the news that, after a suit which had lasted
several years, the Franconian courts had decreed a divorce between
Imhoff and his wife. The Baron left Calcutta, carrying with him the
means of buying an estate in Saxony. The lady became Mrs. Hastings. The
event was celebrated by great festivities; and all the most conspicuous
persons at Calcutta, without distinction of parties, were invited to
the Government-house. Clavering, as the Mahommedan chronicler tells the
story, was sick in mind and body, and excused himself from joining the
splendid assembly. But Hastings, whom, as it should seem, success in
ambition and in love had put into high good-humour, {57}would take no
denial. He went himself to the General’s house, and at length brought
his vanquished rival in triumph to the gay circle which surrounded the
bride. The exertion was too much for a frame broken by mortification as
well as by disease. Clavering died a few days later.
Wheler, who came out expecting to be Governor-General, and was forced to
content himself with a seat at the council-board, generally voted with
Francis. But the Governor-General, with Barwell’s help and his own
casting; vote, was still the master. Some change took place at this time
in the feeling both of the Court of Directors and of the Ministers of
the Crown. All designs against Hastings were dropped; and, when his
original term of five years expired, he was quietly reappointed. The
truth is, that the fearful dangers to which the public interests in
every quarter were now exposed, made both Lord North and the Company
unwilling to part with a Governor whose talents, experience, and
resolution, enmity itself was compelled to acknowledge.
The crisis was indeed formidable. That great and victorious empire, on
the throne of which George the Third had taken his seat eighteen years
before, with brighter hopes than had attended the accession of any
of the long line of English sovereigns, had, by the most senseless
misgovernment, been brought to the verge of ruin. In America millions
of Englishmen were at war with the country from which their blood, their
language, their religion, and their institutions were derived, and to
which, but a short time before, they had been as strongly attached
as the inhabitants of Norfolk and Leicestershire. The great powers
of Europe, humbled to the dust by the vigour and genius {58}which had
guided the counsels of George the Second, now rejoiced in the prospect
of a signal revenge. The time was approaching when our island, while
struggling to keep down the United States of America, and pressed with
a still nearer danger by the too just discontents of Ireland, was to
be assailed by France, Spain, and Holland, and to be threatened by the
armed neutrality of the Baltic; when even our maritime supremacy was to
be in jeopardy; when hostile fleets were to command the Straits of Calpe
and the Mexican Sea: when the British flag was to be scarcely able to
protect the British Channel. Great as were the faults of Hastings, it
was happy for our country that at that conjuncture, the most terrible
through which she has ever passed, he was the ruler of her Indian
dominions.
An attack by sea on Bengal was little to be apprehended. The danger was
that the European enemies of England might form an alliance with
some native power, might furnish that power with troops, arms, and
ammunition, and might thus assail our possessions on the side of the
land. It was chiefly from the Mahrattas that Hastings anticipated
danger. The original seat of that singular people was the wild range
of hills which runs along the western coast of India. In the reign of
Aurungzebe the inhabitants of those regions, led by the great Sevajee,
began to descend on the possessions of their wealthier and less warlike
neighbours. The energy, ferocity, and cunning of the Mahrattas, soon
made them the most conspicuous among the new powers which were generated
by the corruption of the decaying monarchy. At first they were only
robbers. They soon rose to the dignity of conquerors. Half the provinces
of the empire were turned into Mahratta {59}principalities. Freebooters,
sprung from low castes, and accustomed to menial employments, became
mighty Rajahs. The Bonsias, at the head of a hand of plunderers,
occupied the vast region of Berar. The Guico-war, which is, being
interpreted, the Herdsman, founded that dynasty which still reigns in
Guzerat. The houses of Scindia and Holkar waxed great in Malwa. One
adventurous captain made his nest on the impregnable rock of Good.
Another became the lord of the thousand villages which are scattered
among the green rice-fields of Tanjore.
That was the time, throughout India, of double government. The form and
the power were everywhere separated. The Mussulman nabobs who had become
sovereign princes, the Vizier in Glide, and the Nizam at Hyderabad,
still called themselves the viceroys of the house of Tamerlane. In
the same manner the Mahratta states, though really independent of each
other, pretended to be members of one empire. They all acknowledged,
by words and ceremonies, the supremacy of the heir of Sevajee, a _roi
fainéant_ who chewed bang and toyed with dancing girls in a state prison
at Sattara, and of his Peshwa or mayor of the palace, a great hereditary
magistrate, who kept a court with kingly state at Poonah, and whose
authority was obeyed in the spacious provinces of Aurungabad and
Bejapoor.
Some months before war was declared in Europe the government of Bengal
was alarmed by the news that a French adventurer, who passed for a man
of quality, had arrived at Poonah. It was said that he had been received
there with great distinction, that he had delivered to the Peshwa
letters and presents from Lewis the Sixteenth, and that a treaty,
hostile to England, {60}had been concluded between France and the
Mahrattas.
Hastings immediately resolved to strike the first blow. The title of
the Peshwa was not undisputed. A portion of the Mahratta nation was
favourable to a pretender. The Governor-General determined to espouse
this pretender’s interest, to move an army across the peninsula of
India, and to form a close alliance with the chief of the House of
Bonsla, who ruled Berar, and who, in power and dignity, was inferior to
none of the Mahratta princes.
The army had marched, and the negotiations with Berar were in progress,
when a letter from the English consul at Cairo, brought the news that
war had been proclaimed both in London and Paris. All the measures which
the crisis required were adopted by Hastings without a moment’s delay.
The French factories in Bengal were seized. Orders were sent to Madras
that Pondicherry should instantly be occupied. Near Calcutta, works were
thrown up which were thought to render the approach of a hostile force
impossible. A maritime establishment was formed for the defence of the
river. Nine new battalions of sepoys were raised, and a corps of native
artillery was formed out of the hardy Lascars of the Bay of Bengal.
Having made these arrangements, the Governor-General with calm
confidence pronounced his presidency secure from all attack, unless the
Mahrattas should march against it in conjunction with the French.
The expedition which Hastings had sent westward was not so speedily
or completely successful as most of his undertakings. The commanding
officer procrastinated. The authorities at Bombay blundered. But the
Governor-General persevered. A new commander {61}repaired the errors of
his predecessor. Several brilliant actions spread the military renown of
the English through regions where no European flag had ever been
seen. It is probable that, if a new and more formidable danger had not
compelled Hastings to change his whole policy, his plans respecting the
Mahratta empire would have been carried into complete effect.
The authorities in England had wisely sent out to Bengal, as commander
of the forces and member of the Council, one of the most distinguished
soldiers of that time. Sir Eyre Coote had, many years before, been
conspicuous among the founders of the British empire in the East. At
the council of war which preceded the battle of Plassey, he earnestly
recommended, in opposition to the majority, that daring course which,
after some hesitation, was adopted, and which was crowned with such
splendid success. He subsequently commanded in the south of India
against the brave and unfortunate Lally, gained the decisive battle of
Wandewash over the French and their native allies, took Pondicherry,
and made the English power supreme in the Carnatic. Since those great
exploits near twenty years had elapsed. Coote had no longer the bodily
activity which he had shown in earlier days; nor was the vigour of his
mind altogether unimpaired. He was capricious and fretful, and required
much coaxing to keep him in good humour. It must, we fear, be added that
the love of money had grown upon him, and that he thought more about
his allowances, and less about his duties, than might have been expected
from so eminent a member of so noble a profession. Still he was perhaps
the ablest officer that was then to be found in the British army. Among
the native soldiers his name was great and his influence unrivalled. Nor
is he yet {62}forgotten by them. Now and then a white-bearded old sepoy
may still be found, who loves to talk of Porto Movo and Polblore. It is
but a short time since one of those aged men came to present a memorial
to an English officer, who holds one of the highest employments in
India. A print of Coote hung in the room. The veteran recognised at once
that face and figure which He had not seen for more than half a century,
and, forgetting his salam to the living, halted, drew himself up, lifted
his hand, and with solemn reverence paid his military obeisance to the
dead.
Coote, though he did not, like Harwell, vote constantly with the
Governor-General, was by no means inclined to join in systematic
opposition, and on most questions concurred with Hastings, who did
his best, by assiduous courtship, and by readily granting the most
exorbitant allowances, to gratify the strongest passions of the old
soldier.
It seemed likely at this time that a general reconciliation would put an
end to the quarrels which had, during some years, weakened and disgraced
the government of Bengal. The dangers of the empire might well induce
men of patriotic feeling,--and of patriotic feeling neither Hastings nor
Francis was destitute,--to forget private enmities, and to co-operate
heartily for the general good. Coote had never been concerned in
faction. Wheler was thoroughly tired of it. Barwell had made an ample
fortune, and, though he had promised that he would not leave Calcutta
while his help was needed in Council, was most desirous to return to
England, and exerted himself to promote an arrangement which would set
him at liberty.
A compact was made, by which Francis agreed to desist from opposition,
and Hastings engaged that the {63}friends of Francis should be admitted
to a fair share of the honours and emoluments of the service. During
a few months after this treaty there was apparent harmony at the
council-board.
Harmony, indeed, was never more necessary; for at this moment internal
calamities, more formidable than war itself, menaced Bengal. The authors
of the Regulating Act of 1778 had established two independent powers,
the one judicial, the other political; and, with a carelessness
scandalously common in English legislation, had omitted to define the
limits of either. The judges took advantage of the indistinctness,
and attempted to draw to themselves supreme authority, not only within
Calcutta, but through the whole of the great territory subject to the
Presidency of Fort William. There are few Englishmen who will not admit
that the English law, in spite of modern improvements, is neither so
cheap nor so speedy as might be wished. Still, it is a system which
has grown up among us. In some points it has been fashioned to suit our
feelings; in others, it has gradually fashioned our feelings to suit
itself. Even to its worst evils we are accustomed; and therefore, though
we may complain of them, they do not strike us with the horror and
dismay which would be produced by a new grievance of smaller severity.
In India the case is widely different. English law, transplanted to that
country, has all the vices from which we suffer here; it has them all
in a far higher degree: and it has other vices, compared with which the
worst vices from which we suffer are trifles. Dilatory here, it is far
more dilatory in a land where the help of an interpreter is needed by
every judge and by every advocate. Costly here, it is far more costly in
a land into which the {64}legal practitioners must be imported from an
immense distance. All English labour in India, from the labour of the
Governor-General and the Commander-in-Chief, down to that of a groom
or a watchmaker, must be paid for at a higher rate than at home. No man
will be banished, and banished to the torrid zone, for nothing. The rule
holds good with respect to the legal profession. No English barrister
will work, fifteen thousand miles from all his friends, with the
thermometer at ninety-six in the shade, for the emoluments which will
content him in chambers that overlook the Thames. Accordingly, the fees
at Calcutta are about three times as great as the fees of Westminster
Hall; and this, though the people of India are, beyond all comparison,
poorer than the people of England. Yet the delay and the expense,
grievous as they are, form the smallest part of the evil which English
law, imported without modifications into India, could not fail to
produce. The strongest feelings of our nature, honour, religion, female
modesty, rose up against the innovation. Arrest on mesne process was the
first step in most civil proceedings; and to a native of rank arrest
was not merely a restraint, but a foul personal indignity. Oaths were
required in every stage of every suit; and the feeling of a Quaker about
an oath is hardly stronger than that of a respectable native. That the
apartments of a woman of quality should be entered by strange men,
or that her face should be seen by them, are in the East, intolerable
outrages, outrages which are more dreaded than death, and which can
be expiated only by the shedding of blood. To these outrages the most
distinguished families of Bengal, Bahar, and Orissa, were now exposed.
Imagine what the state of our own country would be, if a jurisprudence
were on a sudden introduced among us, which should be to us {65}what our
jurisprudence was to our Asiatic subjects. Imagine what the state of our
country would he, if it were enacted that any man, by merely swearing
that a debt was due to him, should acquire a right to insult the persons
of men of the most honourable and sacred callings and of women of the
most shrinking delicacy, to horsewhip a general officer, to put a bishop
in the stocks, to treat ladies in the way which called forth the blow of
Wat Tyler. Something like this was the effect of the attempt which the
Supreme Court made to extend its jurisdiction over the whole of the
Company’s territory.
A reign of terror began, of terror heightened by mystery; for even that
which was endured was less horrible than that which was anticipated.
No man knew what was next to be expected from this strange tribunal.
It came from beyond the black water, as the people of India, with
mysterious horror, call the sea. It consisted of judges not one of whom
was familiar with the usages of the millions over whom they claimed
boundless authority. Its records were kept in unknown characters; its
sentences were pronounced in unknown sounds. It had already collected
round itself an army of the worst part of the native population,
informers, and false witnesses, and common barrators, and agents of
chicane, and above all, a banditti of bailiffs’ followers, compared with
whom the retainers of the worst English spunging-houses, in the worst
times, might be considered as upright and tender-hearted. Many natives,
highly considered among their countrymen, were seized, hurried up to
Calcutta, flung into the common gaol, not for any crime even imputed,
not for any debt that had been proved, but merely as a precaution till
their cause should come to trial. There were instances in which men
{66}of the most, venerable dignity, persecuted without a cause by
extortioners, died of rage and shame in the gripe of the vile alguazils
of Impey. The harems of noble Mahommedans, sanctuaries respected in the
East by governments which respected nothing else, were burst open
by gangs of bailiff’s. The Mussulmans, braver and less accustomed to
submission than the Hindoos, sometimes stood on their defence; and there
were instances in which they shed their blood in the doorway, while
defending, sword in hand, the sacred apartments of their women. Nay, it
seemed as if even the faint-hearted Bengalee, who had crouched at the
feet of Surajah Dowlah, who had been mute during the administration
of Vansittart, would at length find courage in despair. No Mahratta
invasion had ever spread through the province such dismay as this inroad
of English lawyers. All the injustice of former oppressors, Asiatic and
European, appeared as a blessing when compared with the Justice of the
Supreme Court.
Every class of the population, English and native, with the exception
of the ravenous pettifoggers who fattened on the misery and terror of an
immense community, cried out loudly against this fearful oppression. But
the judges were immovable. If a bailiff was resisted, they ordered the
soldiers to be called out. If a servant of the Company, in conformity
with the orders of the government, withstood the miserable catchpoles
who, with Impey’s writs in their hands, exceeded the insolence and
rapacity of gang-robbers, he was flung into prison for a contempt. The
lapse of sixty years, the virtue and wisdom of many eminent magistrates
who have during that time administered justice in the Supreme Court,
have not effaced from the minds of the people of Bengal the recollection
of those evil days. {67}The members of the government were, on this
subject, united as one man. Hastings had courted the judges; He had
found them useful instruments; but he was not disposed to make them his
own masters, or the masters of India. His mind was large; his knowledge
of the native character most accurate. He saw that the system pursued
by the Supreme Court was degrading to the government and ruinous to the
people; and he resolved to oppose it manfully. The consequence was, that
the friendship, if that be the proper word for such a connection, which
had existed between him and Impey, was for a time completely dissolved.
The government placed itself firmly between the tyrannical tribunal and
the people. The Chief Justice proceeded to the wildest excesses. The
Governor-General and all the members of Council were served with writs,
calling on them to appear before the King’s justices, and to answer for
their public acts. This was too much. Hastings, with just scorn, refused
to obey the call, set at liberty the persons wrongfully detained by the
Court, and took measures for resisting the outrageous proceedings of
the sheriffs’ officers, if necessary, by the sword. But he had in view
another device, which might prevent the necessity of an appeal to arms.
He was seldom at a loss for an expedient; and he knew Impey well. The
expedient, in this case, was a very simple one, neither more nor less
than a bribe. Impey was, by act of parliament, a judge, independent of
the government of Bengal, and entitled to a salary of eight thousand
a year. Hastings proposed to make him also a judge in the Company’s
service, removable at the pleasure of the government of Bengal; and to
give him, in that capacity, about eight thousand a year more. It was
understood that, in consideration of this {68}new salary, Impey would
desist from urging the high pretensions of his court. If he did urge
these pretensions, the government could, at a moment’s notice, eject
him from the new place which had been created for him. The bargain was
struck; Bengal was saved; an appeal to force was averted; and the Chief
Justice was rich, quiet, and infamous.
Of Impey’s conduct it is unnecessary to speak. It was of a piece with
almost every part of his conduct that comes under the notice of history.
No other such judge has dishonoured the English ermine, since Jefferies
drank himself to death in the Tower. But we cannot agree with those
who have blamed Hastings for this transaction. The case stood thus. The
negligent manner in which the Regulating Act had been framed put it in
the power of the Chief Justice to throw a great country into the most
dreadful confusion. He was determined to use his power to the utmost,
unless he was paid to be still; and Hastings consented to pay him. The
necessity was to be deplored. It is also to be deplored that pirates
should be able to exact ransom, by threatening to make their captives
walk a plank. But to ransom a captive from pirates has always been held
a humane and Christian act; and it would be absurd to charge the payer
of the ransom with corrupting the virtue of the corsair. This, we
seriously think, is a not unfair illustration of the relative position
of Impey, Hastings, and the people of India. Whether it was right in
Impey to demand or to accept a price for powers which, if they really
belonged to him, he could not abdicate, which, if they did not belong to
him, he ought never to have usurped, and which in neither case he could
honestly sell, is one question. It is quite another question, whether
Hastings was not {69}right to give any sum, however large, to any man,
however worthless, rather than either surrender millions of human beings
to pillage, or rescue them by civil war.
Francis strongly opposed this arrangement. It may, indeed, be suspected
that personal aversion to Impey was as strong a motive with Francis
as regard for the welfare of the province. To a mind burning with
resentment, it might seem better to leave Bengal to the oppressors than
to redeem it by enriching them. It is not improbable, on the other hand,
that Hastings may have been the more willing to resort to an expedient
agreeable to the Chief Justice, because that high functionary had
already been so serviceable, and might, when existing dissensions were
composed, be serviceable again.
But it was not on this point alone that Francis was now opposed to
Hastings. The peace between them proved to be only a short and hollow
truce, during which their mutual aversion was constantly becoming
stronger. At length an explosion took place. Hastings publicly charged
Francis with having deceived him, and with having induced Harwell to
quit the service by insincere promises. Then came a dispute, such
as frequently arises even between honourable men, when they may
make important agreements by mere verbal communication. An impartial
historian will probably be of opinion that they had misunderstood each
other; but their minds were so much embittered that they imputed to each
other nothing less than deliberate villany.