action; marched against a fortress manned by above double his numbers, and took possession without firing a shot. Property found, to the amount of half a million sterling, he restored to the owners; conciliated the people by moderation; repaired the fort, and provisioned it for a siege; made two successful sorties against the former garrison, which lingered in the neighbourhood; beat up their whole camp in a night attack; and, at a time when all his men but eighty were despatched to a distance, repelled an assault made by them with a knowledge of his weakness. Raja Saheb, the son of Chanda, led against him four thousand men, who were joined by the remains of the garrison, and also one hundred and fifty French. They took possession of the town: Clive made a sally, and drove them from the street; but was compelled to retire to his fort. The next day, two thousand men, under Mortiz Ali, arrived, to reinforce Raja Saheb. They commenced a vigorous siege; but the feeling within was indomitable: Englishman and sepoy were equally inflamed by the spirit of their leader. Daring and skill so counterbalanced paltry numbers and wretched supplies, that it was fifty days before the beleaguering host were prepared to storm. At the end of that time, two wide breaches invited their advance. Raja Saheb sent to Clive a proposal of honourable terms and costly presents, if he would surrender, accompanied by severe threats in case of resistance. Little did he know the mind with which he had to deal. Danger awed Clive, just as darkness shrouds phosphorus; and to bend him by threats, was as likely as to chisel from granite a drapery of gauze. His soul was unutterably haughty, audacious, and inflammable; but acute, selfpossessed, and generous the while. At this juncture, his force was eighty Englishmen, and one hundred and twenty sepoys: the General who challenged him led a host of ten thousand. But the answer was, that “he had a better opinion of his prudence, than to believe that he would attempt to storm till he had got better soldiers than the rabble of which his army was composed." Such a spirit was more terrible to an assailant than a thousand men. Even in times of peace, Mussulmaun breasts are stirred with mighty passions, by the anniversary of the day on which Hassein and Jassein were martyred. That day had come. Its memories fired the soldiery with tenfold hatred of the infidels; while all whom the sword should release from life, during its holy hours, were secured instant reception to the realms of houri without purgatorial delays. Bang, freely distributed, added intoxication to bigotry. Then the fierce stream of fanaticism and inebriety was rolled against the weak defences. The gates and both breaches were simultaneously assailed. A steady fire made the elephants which led the attack on the gates recoil, treading down in their retreat the crowds that pressed behind them. The party attacking the breach, which lay across the wet ditch, were foiled by the effective play of a gun which Clive himself pointed. A mass that seemed resistless, mounted the other breach; while a multitude coolly sat down below to replace them if they should fall. Not even at Badajoz was breach more effectively counterworked, or more bravely defended. The stormers ascended without receiving a shot, gained the first trench that had been raised, and then were opened on by a fire close, ceaseless, and deadly. The front ranks of the defenders fired without intermission, being supplied from behind with charged muskets. Every shot slew, they fell in masses, were instantly replaced, their successors fell as they; while shells, cast from the ramparts, were spreading wide destruction and wider terror among the crowds below. For a whole hour they passed on to certain death, as doggedly as snow-flakes to the ocean. For a whole hour the fire of the defenders consumed every man that advanced. At length they faltered, wavered, and withdrew. Their brave leader was left among the slain. And heroic as were the deeds at Lutzen when Gustavus fell, none equalled that of a soldier, who returned beneath the wall to rescue his Commander. Forty muskets showered danger around him; but he flinched not, and bore away his generous burden unharmed. That night the siege was raised. Clive was reinforced the next day, pursued the enemy, defeated them at Arni, captured Conjeveram, and made the English arms respected; eventually, triumphant. Perhaps the historians of future ages may say, that the defence of Arcot bore the same relation to the Mohammedan power in the East, as the battle of Tours in the West; and that Charles Cartel and Clive were the instruments of Providence in giving the check, at those extreme points, to the restless current by which that system of lust and bloodshed had overswept the nations; and in commencing the reflex by which we now see it falling back, with rapid subsidence, on the centre whence it originally sprang. An instructive lesson is conveyed by the fate of those who conducted the struggle for an European empire in India. Dupleix rose to splendid dignity; became arbiter of the Carnatic and Deccan; was courted by eastern Kings, ennobled by his own; and then died the victim of disappointment and poverty. Labourdonnais found the reward of pre-eminent talents and services in the Bastile. Lally, after displaying bravery and zeal in the cause of his adopted country, was drawn through Paris in a dung-cart, to the guillotine. Clive rose from an obscure clerkship to be Governor of Bengal, a British Peer, the boast of his country, the hero of his age; and, at the very moment when his Sovereign was looking to the mighty talents he wielded as the only hope of saving America, his life of victories, aggrandisement, and fame was closed by suicide. Such is the bliss of greatness! The love of conquest, like Moore's Prophet, wears a veil of transcendent lustre, to shroud features of ineffable disgust. Poets and historians converge the rays of glory on the glittering mask, which, so irradiated, dazzles, fascinates, inflames. But, ever and anon, such events as the suicide of Clive lift the veil, and discover on the visage of war lineaments far fouler than those which mar the less destructive, but less caparisoned, furies, pestilence and famine. How different is his lot who toils under the same suns to turn men to God! His deeds rejoice the hosts who little reck of the battle's issue, but sing when a soul is saved. His name is written in letters bright as heaven's crystals, incorruptible as its light. His reward is God's approval upon earth; and when earth is burnt up, a crown flashing with the glories that beam from unshrouded Deity; a throne that even eternity cannot crumble, and which immortals will joyfully surround, whom his toil was the means of saving. Let the merchant tell his gold, the Statesman sway his realm, the warrior trample on his foe; let the philosopher expound creation, the scholar elaborate his tome, the poet attune his lay; but let him that would have bliss for ever unshorn and inexhaustible, go and win souls! Arcot has no Missionary; and, I believe, never had. "The next day," to quote Meir Hussein Ali Khan Kirmani, the admiring and devoted biographer of Hydur Ali,* "when the lion of the heavens at one leap or bound had scattered the starry host like a flock of sheep, and * History of Hydur Naik. Translated from the Persian by Colonel W. Miles. had risen from the east with his jaws and claws stained with blood;" that is, as we common-place occidentals should say, when the sun rose, we were urging our way to the celebrated fortress of Vellore. Hitherto the country had been monotonous flats; but at this point several hills started suddenly from the plain, looking like gigantic haycocks on a level meadow. Overlooked and partly embosomed by these eminences, lies the stronghold which, in the contests of the last century, was regarded as the key of the Carnatic. Turning round the base of a hill, the minarets and dome of a noble mosque rear themselves from the midst of a grove, with whose dark green foliage their forms of glistening white stand in bold and picturesque contrast. Passing a native town of no attractions, you find the citadel, so completely commanded by the hills, on which traces of once formidable works are still discernible, that a six-pounder will pitch a ball beyond it. The fortifications are of immense strength, and surrounded by a deep, wide ditch, in which, as an addition to the dangers that deter assault, a number of alligators are carefully kept and fed. Vellore has full often been deluged with blood. Here its notorious Commandant, Mortiz Ali, obtained the assassination of the Nabob, while sleeping in imagined security as his kinsman's guest, during the festivities of the mohurrun. Here also Hyder Ali pressed close sieges; and the place was twice relieved by Sir Eyre Coote, when reduced to extremities. Of the action which preceded the first relief, Meir Hussein gives the following characteristic account :-"The General left his ground, and advanced to an extensive plain. He had scarcely reached it, before the Nawaub's cavalry, with horses as swift as the wind, attacked him on all sides; and, giving up all consideration either of their lives or those of others, surrounded the General's troops in close combat; and to what an extent did they not exert their valour! The Nawaub himself, with his artillery, took up a position on a high ground on the General's route, and lighted up the fire of war in his front. On the right flank, the Prince (Tipu) determined to imitate in his attack the battle of the last day; and a total dispersion of the troops, followers, and baggage of the rear-guard ensued; and, at one charge, thousands of men and women passed under the edge of the sword, perished by the arrow and musket-ball, or were put to flight. The officers of the musketeers, and ahsham, or irregular foot, with the breath of the musket and rocket, lit up the fire of battle and slaughter, and many were uselessly burned, and many drowned in a river of their own blood. In fact, a great multitude of officers and men, on both sides, slept on the field of death. The army of the General in this action received a severe blow; a cannonball from one of the Nawaub's guns having broken the leg of Colonel Stuart, and thereby caused the Commander a deep affliction; but, more than this, another shot also struck the horse of Syfe ul Moolk, by which he, Syfe ul Moolk, was thrown on the ground, and his brave heart split in twain. In short, it went very near that the stone of defeat and dispersion would fall among the troops of the General, when gloomy night suddenly arrived, and cast a veil of darkness over the world, and closed the contest of the two fierce lions." He never insinuates that a missile so awkward as "the stone of defeat" fell among the host of his own hero. After the dynasty of Hydur had been hurled from the Mysore throne, Vellore became the scene of an atrocity which has ever since allied it with fearful associations. At the death of Tipu, his family, consisting of several sons and daughters, were removed to this fortress, where, indulged with a princely income and retinue, they lived far more in state than in captivity. 4 M VOL. I.-FOURTH SERIES. passed on to certain death, as doggedly as snow-flakes to the ocean. For a whole hour the fire of the defenders consumed every man that advanced. At length they faltered, wavered, and withdrew. Their brave leader was left among the slain. And heroic as were the deeds at Lutzen when Gustavus fell, none equalled that of a soldier, who returned beneath the wall to rescue his Commander. Forty muskets showered danger around him; but he flinched not, and bore away his generous burden unharmed. That night the siege was raised. Clive was reinforced the next day, pursued the enemy, defeated them at Arni, captured Conjeveram, and made the English arms respected; eventually, triumphant. Perhaps the historians of future ages may say, that the defence of Arcot bore the same relation to the Mohammedan power in the East, as the battle of Tours in the West; and that Charles Cartel and Clive were the instruments of Providence in giving the check, at those extreme points, to the restless current by which that system of lust and bloodshed had overswept the nations; and in commencing the reflex by which we now see it falling back, with rapid subsidence, on the centre whence it originally sprang. An instructive lesson is conveyed by the fate of those who conducted the struggle for an European empire in India. Dupleix rose to splendid dignity; became arbiter of the Carnatic and Deccan; was courted by eastern Kings, ennobled by his own; and then died the victim of disappointment and poverty. Labourdonnais found the reward of pre-eminent talents and services in the Bastile. Lally, after displaying bravery and zeal in the cause of his adopted country, was drawn through Paris in a dung-cart, to the guillotine. Clive rose from an obscure clerkship to be Governor of Bengal, a British Peer, the boast of his country, the hero of his age; and, at the very moment when his Sovereign was looking to the mighty talents he wielded as the only hope of saving America, his life of victories, aggrandisement, and fame was closed by suicide. Such is the bliss of greatness! The love of conquest, like Moore's Prophet, wears a veil of transcendent lustre, to shroud features of ineffable disgust. Poets and historians converge the rays of glory on the glittering mask, which, so irradiated, dazzles, fascinates, inflames. But, ever and anon, such events as the suicide of Clive lift the veil, and discover on the visage of war lineaments far fouler than those which mar the less destructive, but less caparisoned, furies, pestilence and famine. How different is his lot who toils under the same suns to turn men to God! His deeds rejoice the hosts who little reck of the battle's issue, but sing when a soul is saved. His name is written in letters bright as heaven's crystals, incorruptible as its light. His reward is God's approval upon earth; and when earth is burnt up, a crown flashing with the glories that beam from unshrouded Deity; a throne that even eternity cannot crumble, and which immortals will joyfully surround, whom his toil was the means of saving. Let the merchant tell his gold, the Statesman sway his realm, the warrior trample on his foe; let the philosopher expound creation, the scholar elaborate his tome, the poet attune his lay; but let him that would have bliss for ever unshorn and inexhaustible, go and win souls! Arcot has no Missionary; and, I believe, never had. "The next day," to quote Meir Hussein Ali Khan Kirmani, the admiring and devoted biographer of Hydur Ali,* " when the lion of the heavens at one leap or bound had scattered the starry host like a flock of sheep, and * History of Hydur Naik. Translated from the Persian by Colonel W. Miles. had risen from the east with his jaws and claws stained with blood;" that is, as we common-place occidentals should say, when the sun rose, we were urging our way to the celebrated fortress of Vellore. Hitherto the country had been monotonous flats; but at this point several hills started suddenly from the plain, looking like gigantic haycocks on a level meadow. Overlooked and partly embosomed by these eminences, lies the stronghold which, in the contests of the last century, was regarded as the key of the Carnatic. Turning round the base of a hill, the minarets and dome of a noble mosque rear themselves from the midst of a grove, with whose dark green foliage their forms of glistening white stand in bold and picturesque contrast. Passing a native town of no attractions, you find the citadel, so completely commanded by the hills, on which traces of once formidable works are still discernible, that a six-pounder will pitch a ball beyond it. The fortifications are of immense strength, and surrounded by a deep, wide ditch, in which, as an addition to the dangers that deter assault, a number of alligators are carefully kept and fed. Vellore has full often been deluged with blood. Here its notorious Commandant, Mortiz Ali, obtained the assassination of the Nabob, while sleeping in imagined security as his kinsman's guest, during the festivities of the mohurrun. Here also Hyder Ali pressed close sieges; and the place was twice relieved by Sir Eyre Coote, when reduced to extremities. Of the action which preceded the first relief, Meir Hussein gives the following characteristic account :-"The General left his ground, and advanced to an extensive plain. He had scarcely reached it, before the Nawaub's cavalry, with horses as swift as the wind, attacked him on all sides; and, giving up all consideration either of their lives or those of others, surrounded the General's troops in close combat ; and to what an extent did they not exert their valour! The Nawaub himself, with his artillery, took up a position on a high ground on the General's route, and lighted up the fire of war in his front. On the right flank, the Prince (Tipu) determined to imitate in his attack the battle of the last day; and a total dispersion of the troops, followers, and baggage of the rear-guard ensued; and, at one charge, thousands of men and women passed under the edge of the sword, perished by the arrow and musket-ball, or were put to flight. The officers of the musketeers, and ahsham, or irregular foot, with the breath of the musket and rocket, lit up the fire of battle and slaughter, and many were uselessly burned, and many drowned in a river of their own blood. In fact, a great multitude of officers and men, on both sides, slept on the field of death. The army of the General in this action received a severe blow; a cannonball from one of the Nawaub's guns having broken the leg of Colonel Stuart, and thereby caused the Commander a deep affliction; but, more than this, another shot also struck the horse of Syfe ul Moolk, by which he, Syfe ul Moolk, was thrown on the ground, and his brave heart split in twain. In short, it went very near that the stone of defeat and dispersion would fall among the troops of the General, when gloomy night suddenly arrived, and cast a veil of darkness over the world, and closed the contest of the two fierce lions." He never insinuates that a missile so awkward as "the stone of defeat" fell among the host of his own hero. After the dynasty of Hydur had been hurled from the Mysore throne, Vellore became the scene of an atrocity which has ever since allied it with fearful associations. At the death of Tipu, his family, consisting of several sons and daughters, were removed to this fortress, where, indulged with a princely income and retinue, they lived far more in state than in captivity. 4 M VOL. I.-FOURTH SERIES. |