ing the many temptations he had been exposed to, and the many opportunities for enriching himself that had been placed in his way, he uttered the ever-famous exclamation: By God, Mr. Chairman, at this moment I stand astonished at my own moderation.' The inquiry extended over two Sessions, and was only completed in 1773. A general resolution was passed to the effect that appropriation by servants of the State of acquisitions made by the arms of the State was to be condemned. But when the House was pressed to pass a particular resolution to the effect that Clive had abused his powers and thereby set an evil example to the servants of the public, the previous question was put and carried. A motion was subsequently put that Clive had rendered great and meritorious services to the State, and was passed without a division. Thus what his enemies had intended to result in condemnation resulted in what was, for all practical purposes, a panegyric. But Clive had felt the strain. The mental anguish he had suffered, though he had not shown it, combined with physical suffering, had been too much for even his brave spirit, and within a year of the closing of the inquiry Clive was dead; he put an end to his own life at the early age of forty-nine.

The poet Browning has, with rare insight, taken as the theme of one of his Dramatic Idylls, one famous scene out of the many with which the drama of Clive's career is crowded, which illustrates those characteristics of his hero which especially distinguished him, his physical and moral courage, and his magnanimity. And no one will feel disposed to quarrel with his noble treatment of his theme, although, with that licence that is allowed to the poet alone of writers, and which makes of a poet's imagination a chartered libertine', he may have had recourse to a certain amount of poetic embroidery. Even with this, all will recognize in the portrait a speaking likeness, and will feel no counterfeit presentment is here. No apology is needed for the incorporation within the limits of this sketch of some part at least of this famous scene. Clive and an intimate friend are depicted as holding sweet converse together.

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Suddenly, his friend remarks :

Clive told me once, I want to say,

Which feat out of all those famous doings bore the bell

away

In his own calm estimation, mark you, not the mob's rough guess

Which stood foremost as evincing what Clive called courageousness?

If a friend has leave to question-When were you most brave, in short?'

Clive makes answer :

'When was I most brave? I'd answer, were the instance half as plain

As another instance that's a brain-lodged crystal-curse it!-here

Freezing when my memory touches-ugh!-the time I felt most fear.

Ugh! I cannot say for certain if I showed fear-anyhow, Fear I felt, and, very likely, shuddered, since I shiver now.'

The friend replies :

'Fear,' smiled I; 'well, that's the rarer : that's a specimen to seek,

Ticket up in one's museum, "Mind-Freaks-Lord Clive's Fear, Unique.'

Clive then goes back in memory to his early days when he was a clerk, and when he was obliged to have recourse to some excitement to keep himself sane. Of the three alternatives, gaming, drinking, or crazing, as he expresses it, he chose gaming. His companions were officers. He then describes how he detected one of them cheating at cards one day, and how he called out :

What, you force a card, you cheat, sir? The officers all throng round him, prepared to take their fellow officer's part. Clive repeats his charge:—

Well, you forced a card and cheated!'

The officer, pointing his pistol, demanded a withdrawal of the charge :—

Sirrah, on your knees, withdraw in full.'

Clive's only reply is :

'Well, you cheated.'

The excitement increases, and a duel is decided on :'Let civilians be instructed: henceforth simply ply the pen,

Fly the sword! This clerk's no swordsman? Suit him with a pistol, then.'

Clive, in his eagerness, lets off his pistol before he intends, and the bullet flies high. The officer then holds his pistol to Clive's head and exclaims :

'Now, Sir Counting-House, repeat That expression which I told you proved bad manners! Did I cheat?

All Clive says is :

Cheat you did, you knew you cheated, and this moment

know as well.

As for me, my homely breeding bids you fire and—go to Hell!'

Clive continues his story :

'Twice the muzzle touched my forehead. Heavy barrel, flurried wrist,

Either spoils a steady lifting. Thrice: then :-" Laugh at Hell who list.

I can't! God's no fable either. Did this boy's eye wink once? No!

There's no standing him, and Hell and God, all three against meso,

I did cheat!"

Out rushed.'

And down he threw the pistol,

His fellow officers first stand silent in blank astonishment, and then exclaim against their late boon companion, and brother-officer

'Punishment the Service cries for: let disgrace be wiped away.'

Then Clive, with rare magnanimity, exclaims :

To the disadvantage of the man who spared me, utters speech

To his face, behind his back-that speaker has to do with me.'

On his friend protesting that he can detect no fear in this scene, Clive persists that it was an instance of fear, saying:

'You've my story, there's your instance: fear I did, you see!'

His friend still protests, and exclaims :

'Fear-I wish I could detect there-Courage fronts me, plain enough.'

The scene closes, as Clive is heard to whisper :Something like-' Yes, courage: only fools will call it fear.'

And the world, which is not made up of fools, will hold that Clive did display the truest courage, that which overcomes fear, and will prefer to style what he himself has called Fear, as Fearful Courage.

And in that last tragic scene that closed his life, the world will, with the poet, also see only one more instance of Fearful Courageousness'.

This sketch may well conclude with the words engraved on the memorial tablet erected to his memory at his old school, which could only have been written of a great and, at the same time, a high-minded man.

'Twice Governor of Fort William in Bengal, he won the love of the Native Peoples, and left the Administration Pure.'

CHAPTER II

THE FOUNDING OF THE BRITISH
ADMINISTRATION

WARREN HASTINGS, 1732-1818.

WARREN HASTINGS was a scion of a Worcestershire family of distinguished ancestry; the old family seat had, however, passed out of their hands. It was the dream of his early boyhood to recover it again; and late in life he had the satisfaction of being able to do so. He was not the

first dreamer of dreams, who was to prove that he could also be a distinguished man of action; and, after all, are not dreams often synonymous with high ideals and enthusiasm, without which it is given to few to command success? One of his biographers has said of him: A bold dreamer, he showed that he possessed almost unequalled executive ability and practical good sense.' His grandfather was Rector of Daylesford, where the old family Manor-House stood, and Hastings's early years were spent at the Rectory. He may therefore legitimately be ranked amongst those sons of the Rectory' who have gone forth into the world to achieve fame in the service of their country. An uncle of his took charge of his education for some years and placed him at Westminster School, where he soon won a reputation for scholarship; and he appears to have been popular with boys and masters. On the death of his uncle, he was placed in charge of a guardian, who, having some connexion with the India Board, decided to remove him from school and place him with a private tutor to have him prepared for his future career as a writer in the Company's service. His head master expostulated: What,' he exclaimed, 'lose my favourite pupil, the best scholar of his year.' And he even offered to pay all expenses both of school and college. However, he was removed, and in the course of the following year he was dispatched to India, being eighteen years of age at the time,

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