any which had held power since the breach between Mr. Pitt and the great Whig connexion in 1761. No 390 pressing question of domestic or European policy required the attention of public men. There was a short and delusive lull between two tempests. The excitement produced 395 by the Middlesex election was over; the discontents of America did not yet threaten civil war; the financial difficulties of the Company brought on a crisis; the Ministers were forced 400 to take up the subject; and the whole storm, which had long been gathering, now broke at once on the head of Clive. His situation was indeed singularly unfortunate. He was hated through406 out the country, hated at the India House, hated, above all, by those wealthy and powerful servants of the Company, whose rapacity and tyranny he had withstood. He had to bear 410 the double odium of his bad and of his good actions, of every Indian abuse and of every Indian reform. The state of the political world was such that he could count on the sup415 port of no powerful connexion. The party to which he had belonged, that of George Grenville, had been hostile to the Government, and yet had never cordially united with the other sections 420 of the Opposition, with the little band which still followed the fortunes of Lord Chatham, or with the large and respectable body of which Lord Rockingham was the acknowledged 425 leader. George Grenville was now dead: his followers were scattered; and Clive, unconnected with any of the powerful factions which divided the Parliament, could reckon only 430 on the votes of those members who were returned by himself. His enemies, particularly those who were the enemies of his virtues, were unscrupulous, ferocious, implacable. Their male435 volence aimed at nothing less than the utter ruin of his fame and fortune. They wished to see him expelled from Parliament, to see his spurs chopped off, to see his estate confiscated; and it may be doubted whether 440 even such a result as this would have quenched their thirst for revenge. Clive's parliamentary tactics resembled his military tactics. Deserted, surrounded, outnumbered, and with 445 every thing at stake, he did not even deign to stand on the defensive, but pushed boldly forward to the attack. At an early stage of the discussions on Indian affairs he rose, and in a 450 long and elaborate speech vindicated himself from a large part of the accusations which had been brought against him. He is said to have produced a great impression on his 455 audience. Lord Chatham who, now the ghost of his former self, loved to haunt the scene of his glory, was that night under the gallery of the House of Commons, and declared that 460 he had never heard a finer speech. It was subsequently printed under Clive's direction, and, when the fullest allowance has been made for the assistance which he may have obtained 465 from literary friends, proves him to have possessed, not merely strong sense and a manly spirit, but talents both for disquisition and declamation which assiduous culture might have improved 470 into the highest excellence. He confined his defence on this occasion to the measures of his last administration, and succeeded so far that his enemies thenceforth thought it ex- 475 pedient to direct their attacks chiefly against the earlier part of his life. The earlier part of his life unfortunately presented some assailable points to their hostility. A committee 480 was chosen by ballot to inquire into the affairs of India; and by this committee the whole history of that great revolution which threw down )) care. 485 Surajah Dowlah and raised Meer Jaffier was sifted with malignant Clive was subjected to the most unsparing examination and crossexamination, and afterwards bitterly 490 complained that he, the Baron of Plassey, had been treated like a sheep-stealer. The boldness and ingenuousness of his replies would alone suffice to show how alien from his 495 nature were the frauds to which, in the course of his Eastern negotiations, he had sometimes descended. He avowed the arts which he had employed to deceive Omichund, and 500 resolutely said that he was not ashamed of them, and that, in the same circumstances, he would again act in the same manner. He admitted that he had received immense sums from 505 Meer Jaffier; but he denied that, in doing so, he had violated any obligation of morality or honour. He laid claim, on the contrary, and not without some reason, to the praise 510 of eminent disinterestedness. He described in vivid language the situation in which his victory had placed him; great princes dependent on his pleasure; an opulent city afraid of 515 being given up to plunder; wealthy bankers bidding against each other for his smiles; vaults piled with gold and jewels thrown open to him alone. 'By God, Mr. Chairman,' he exclaimed, 520 'at this moment I stand astonished at my own moderation.' The inquiry was so extensive that the Houses rose before it had been completed. It was continued in the 525 following session. When at length the committee had concluded its labours, enlightened and impartial men had little difficulty in making up their minds as to the result. It 530 was clear that Clive had been guilty of some acts which it is impossible to vindicate without attacking the authority of all the most sacred laws which regulate the intercourse of individuals and of states. But it was 535 equally clear that he had displayed great talents, and even great virtues; that he had rendered eminent services both to his country and to the people of India; and that it was in truth not 540 for his dealings with Meer Jaffier nor for the fraud which he had practised on Omichund, but for his determined resistance to avarice and tyranny, that he was now called in question. 545 Ordinary criminal justice knows nothing of set-off. The greatest desert cannot be pleaded in answer to a charge of the slightest transgression. If a man has sold beer 550 on a Sunday morning, it is no defence. that he has saved the life of a fellowcreature at the risk of his own. If he has harnessed a Newfoundland dog to his little child's carriage, it 555 is no defence that he was wounded at Waterloo. But it is not in this way that we ought to deal with men who, raised far above ordinary restraints, and tried by far more than 560 ordinary temptations, are entitled to a more than ordinary measure of indulgence. Such men should be judged by their contemporaries as they will be judged by posterity. Their bad 565 actions ought not, indeed, to be called good; but their good and bad actions ought to be fairly weighed; and, if on the whole the good preponderate, the sentence ought to be one, not 570 merely of acquittal, but of approbation. Not a single great ruler in history can be absolved by a judge who fixes his eye inexorably on one or two unjustifiable acts. Bruce the 575 deliverer of Scotland, Maurice the deliverer of Germany, William the deliverer of Holland, his great descendant the deliverer of England, Murray the good regent, Cosmo the father 580 of his country, Henry the Fourth of France, Peter the Great of Russia, how would the best of them pass such a scrutiny? History takes wider 585 views; and the best tribunal for great political cases is the tribunal which anticipates the verdict of history. Reasonable and moderate men of all parties felt this in Clive's case. 590 They could not pronounce him blameless; but they were not disposed to abandon him to that low-minded and rancorous pack who had run him down and were eager to worry him 595 to death. Lord North, though not very friendly to him, was not disposed to go to extremities against him. While the inquiry was still in progress, Clive, who had some years 500 before been created a Knight of the Bath, was installed with great pomp in Henry the Seventh's Chapel. He was soon after appointed Lord Lieutenlant of Shropshire. When he kissed 605 hands, George the Third, who had always been partial to him, admitted him to a private audience, talked to him half an hour on Indian politics, and was visibly affected when the 610 persecuted general spoke of his services and of the way in which they had been requited. At length the charges came in a definite form before the House of 615 Commons. Burgoyne, chairman of the committee, a man of wit, fashion, and honour, an agreeable dramatic writer, an officer whose courage was never questioned and whose skill was 620 at that time highly esteemed, appeared as the accuser. The members of the administration took different sides; for in that age all questions were open questions, except such as were 625 brought forward by the Government, or such as implied some censure on the Government. Thurlow, the At torney-General, was among the assailants. Wedderburne, the Solicitor630 General, strongly attached to Clive, defended his friend with extraordin ary force of argument and language. It is a curious circumstance that, some years later, Thurlow was the most conspicuous champion of Warren 635 Hastings, while Wedderburne was among the most unrelenting persecutors of that great though not faultless statesman. Clive spoke in his own defence at less length and with 640 less art than in the preceding year, but with much energy and pathos. He recounted his great actions and his wrongs; and, after bidding his hearers remember that they were about to 645 decide not only on his honour but on their own, he retired from the House. The Commons resolved that acquisitions made by the arms of the State belong to the State alone, and 650 that it is illegal in the servants of the State to appropriate such acquisitions to themselves. They resolved that this wholesome rule appeared to have been systematically violated 655 by the English functionaries in Bengal. On a subsequent day they went a step farther, and resolved that Clive had, by means of the power which he possessed as commander of the 660 British forces in India, obtained large sums from Meer Jaffier. Here the Commons stopped. They had voted the major and minor of Burgoyne's syllogism; but they shrank from draw- 665 ing the logical conclusion. When it was moved that Lord Clive had abused his powers, and set an evil example to the servants of the public, the previous question was put and 670 carried. At length, long after the sun had risen on an animated debate, Wedderburne moved that Lord Clive had at the same time rendered great and meritorious services to his country; and 676 this motion passed without a division. The result of this memorable inquiry appears to us, on the whole, honourable to the justice, moderation, and discernment of the Commons. 680 685 ... They had indeed no great temptation | House of Commons had pronounced, to do wrong. They would have been the knowledge that he was regarded very bad judges of an accusation by a large portion of his countrymen brought against Jenkinson or against as a cruel and perfidious tyrant, all 725 Wilkes. But the question respecting concurred to irritate and depress Clive was not a party question; and him. In the mean time, his temper the House accordingly acted with the was tried by acute physical suffergood sense and good feeling which ing. During his long residence in may always be expected from an tropical climates, he had contracted 780 690 assembly of English gentlemen, not several painful distempers. In order blinded by faction... to obtain ease he called in the help of opium; and he was gradually enslaved by this treacherous ally. To the last, however, his genius occasion- 735 ally flashed through the gloom. It was said that he would sometimes, after sitting silent and torpid for hours, rouse himself to the discussion of some great question, would display in full 740 vigour all the talents of the soldier and the statesman, and would then sink back into his melancholy repose. Clive was now secure in the enjoyment of his fortune and his honours. He was surrounded by attached friends 695 and relations; and he had not yet passed the season of vigorous bodily and mental exertion. But clouds had long been gathering over his mind, and now settled on it in thick dark700 ness. From early youth he had been subject to fits of that strange melancholy 'which rejoiceth exceedingly and is glad when it can find the grave.' While still a writer at Madras, he 706 had twice attempted to destroy himself. Business and prosperity had produced a salutary effect on his spirits. In India, while he was occupied by great affairs, in England, 710 while wealth and rank had still the charm of novelty, he had borne up against his constitutional misery. But he had now nothing to do, and nothing to wish for. His active spirit in 716 an inactive situation drooped and withered like a plant in an uncongenial air. The malignity with which his enemies had pursued him, the indignity with which he had been 720 treated by the committee, the censure, lenient as it was, which the The chief cause which made the The disputes with America had now become so serious that an appeal 745 to the sword seemed inevitable; and the Ministers were desirous to avail themselves of the services of Clive. Had he still been what he was when he raised the siege of Patna and 750 annihilated the Dutch army and navy at the mouth of the Ganges, it is not improbable that the resistance of the colonists would have been put down, and that the inevitable separa- 765 tion would have been deferred for a few years. But it was too late. His strong mind was fast sinking under many kinds of suffering. On the twenty-second of November, 1774, 760 he died by his own hand. He had just completed his forty-ninth year. DIFFICULTY OF TRAVELLING IN 1685. fusion of the different elements of all passing from place to place. Of have done most for the civilisation 10 of our species. Every improvement of the means of locomotion benefits mankind morally and intellectually as well as materially, and not only facilitates the interchange of the va15 rious productions of nature and art, but tends to remove national and provincial antipathies, and to bind together all the branches of the great human family. In the seventeenth 20 century the inhabitants of London were, for almost every practical purpose, farther from Reading than they now are from Edinburgh, and farther from Edinburgh than they now 25 are from Vienna. The subjects of Charles the Second were not, it is true, quite unacquainted with that principle which has, in our own time, produced an unprecedented 30 revolution in human affairs, which has enabled navies to advance in face of wind and tide, and brigades of troops, attended by all their baggage and artillery, to traverse kingdoms 35 at a pace equal to that of the fleetest race horse. The Marquess of Worcester had recently observed the expansive power of moisture rarefied by heat. After many experiments 40 he had succeeded in constructing a rude steam engine, which he called a fire water work, and which he pronounced to be an admirable and most forcible instrument of propul45 sion. But the Marquess was suspected to be a madman, and known to be a Papist. His inventions, therefore, found no favourable reception. His fire water work might, perhaps, furn50 ish matter for conversation at a meeting of the Royal Society, but was not applied to any practical purpose. There were no railways, except a few made of timber, on which coals 55 were carried from the mouths of the Northumbrian pits to the banks of the Tyne. There was very little internal communication by water. A few attempts had been made to deepen and embank the natural streams, but with 60 slender success. Hardly a single navigable canal had been even projected. The English of that day were in the habit of talking with mingled admiration and despair of 65 the immense trench by which Lewis the Fourteenth had made a junction between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. They little thought that their country would, in the course 70 of a few generations, be intersected, at the cost of private adventurers, by artificial rivers making up more than four times the length of the Thames, the Severn, and the Trent 75 together. It was by the highways that both travellers and goods generally passed from place to place; and those highways appear to have been far worse 80 than might have been expected from the degree of wealth and civilisation which the nation had even then attained. On the best lines of communication the ruts were deep, the 85 descents precipitous, and the way often such as it was hardly possible to distinguish, in the dusk, from the uninclosed heath and fen which lay on both sides. Ralph Thoresby, the 90 antiquary, was in danger of losing his way on the great North Road, between Barnby Moor and Tuxford, and actually lost his way between Doncaster and York. Pepys and his 95 wife, travelling in their own coach, lost their way between Newbury and Reading. In the course of the same tour they lost their way near Salisbury, and were in danger of having 100 to pass the night on the plain. It was only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the road was available for wheeled vehicles. Often the mud lay deep on the right and the 106 left; and only a narrow track of firm |