So now my career in the East Indies was over, and I set my face to return home.

The first person to whom I communicated my intention was Colonel Clive. He was at first astonished, and told me so.

“Why do you mean to leave me now, when all our affairs are prospering, and you have nothing to do but to stay on and enrich yourself? I have had it in my mind to promote you; indeed, I think you know that I am your good friend.”

“I do, indeed, sir,” I answered, “and I am most grateful for all your kindness to me. But it is right that I should tell you I am here in consequence of wrong-doing, which has, as I can now see, pursued my steps and caused me to be harassed with troubles and misfortunes from the very beginning to this hour.”

“Why, what wrong have you been guilty of?” asked the Colonel, much interested. “I could have sworn you were the most honest young man in my company.”

“I have run away from my home, sir. I have deceived and disobeyed my father and, I fear, caused great sorrow to my loving mother. I allowed myself to be tempted to leave them secretly, under cover of a falsehood, and to join a crew of privateers, who turned out to be pirates, the comrades of those whom you destroyed at Gheriah. In their company I fell into evil courses, and finally plunged into a murderous contest with one of my own flesh and blood. These things have long sat heavy on my mind. I have perceived their evil consequences, I have been visited with a bitter punishment, and I am now determined to go back to my parents and to obtain their forgiveness before it is too late.”

Colonel Clive looked at me with some sympathy, mingled with wonder.

“I believe you have decided rightly,” he said at last, when I had finished. “God forbid that I should keep you from making your peace with those who love you.” His tone softened as he added: “My story is different to yours. I didn’t run away; I was driven, pitchforked out of doors, and stuck into a miserable billet at Madras, where I nearly ate my heart out with loneliness and repining. When I returned to England it was not to ask forgiveness, but to give it, if a son can take it upon himself to forgive his parent. No matter, all that is past now, and I believe my family have found out that I am worth the love they have to give me. Look here, my boy, I have no business to talk like this to you; but, after all, we can’t be always thinking of rupees and Moorish tricks. Since you are bent on going to England, you shall start in the ship which I am sending from Calcutta with the news of our late proceedings, and I will give you a letter, which you are to deliver privately into the hands of Mr. Pitt.”

At this name I looked up with flushing cheeks.

“The great Mr. Pitt?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, the great Mr. Pitt,” returned Colonel Clive, with a slight inflection of bitterness in his tone. “But you are right, Ford, he is a very great man, and though his battles have been won within the four walls of St. Stephen’s Chapel, while we lesser men have to fight in very different scenes, far be it from me to grudge all honour to the man who was the first to do honour to me. He is fortunate in having for his theatre the senate of a great kingdom of Europe, I unfortunate in having for mine a remote country of which half Europe has never heard. Still, I recognise his merits, and it is for that reason I am addressing myself to him on a subject which is near to my heart.”

The Colonel paused for a few moments.

“But I cannot have you return to England empty-handed,” he resumed. “What is your share of the gratuity promised to the army I do not yet know, but I tell you what you shall do: go into the treasury, and help yourself while there is time.”

I stared at this permission, but Colonel Clive merely nodded his head, and turned to write the letter he had spoken of. Perceiving that he was in earnest, I went off to the Nabob’s palace, and made my way to the treasury, where I found Mr. Watts and some others busily engaged in taking an inventory of everything it contained, which was to be shipped down the river in boats to Calcutta.

I walked through the rooms looking about me. Never in my life have I seen, nor am I like to see such a sight again. So much treasure was there scattered around me, that I could scarce believe it when Mr. Watts told me that the whole was insufficient to meet the sums pledged by Meer Jaffier. In every room I feasted my eyes upon the light of countless jewels. Silver was heaped on every floor, and gold on every shelf. Great green jade jars contained nothing but uncut gems. All kinds of weapons were there, their very shapes disguised under the gold and jewel-work which loaded them. There were chairs of ivory, and a table of solid agate-stone. Massy chains of gold trailed from drawers, and bricks of silver were built up into banks along the walls. It was a confusion of magnificence, a very litter of precious things.

I informed Mr. Watts of the permission which Colonel Clive had given me to help myself, and he confirmed it.

“Take what you please,” he said carelessly. “You will find the emeralds run larger than any other stone, but some of them are flawed. There is a pretty string of rubies somewhere that it might be worth while to choose. The biggest diamond is already promised, but there are several lesser ones, uncut, which I should judge to be worth from twenty to forty thousand rupees each.”

He returned to his catalogue, and I to my exploration. After rejecting many necklaces and crowns that I did not deem to be of sufficient splendour, I finally fixed upon a tulwar, which I found in a box of mother-of-pearl by itself. The handle was set with an enormous sapphire, and the hilt incrusted with diamonds, some of them as big as my thumbnail. I was afterwards offered three thousand pounds for it by a Gentoo merchant in Calcutta, but preferred to bring it home with me, where it afterwards fetched more than double that sum at a goldsmith’s in Covent Garden.

Nor was this all that I brought away with me, for when I went to take leave of Meer Jaffier, he presented me, as a mark of his esteem, with a very handsome dress of gold cloth, and a string of pearls, valued afterwards at a thousand pounds. So that I was now become a rich man.

We buried Marian at night, by the Nabob’s permission, in a corner of the garden of the seraglio. The chaplain of the thirty-ninth regiment conducted the service, and I caused a slab of marble to be set up to mark the grave, inscribed simply with her name and the date of her death. This tomb, I have been told, still stands, and is pointed out to English visitors to Moorshedabad as the grave of the Englishwoman who was imprisoned in the Black Hole.

The following day, having received Colonel Clive’s letter, and bidden him an affectionate farewell, I embarked with Rupert upon one of the barges which were carrying the treasure down to Calcutta. The fleet started in procession, and went down the river, with music playing on deck, flying flags by day, and coloured lanterns by night, till we reached the English settlement. There I found old Muzzy, patiently waiting for me, and full of pride in the victory, in which he was prone to attribute a great share to me.

Five months later we sailed up the Thames, and set foot once more on English soil.

One thing only detained me in London. This was the delivery of the letter which Colonel Clive had entrusted to me for Mr. Pitt.

It was a privilege which I could not rate too highly to be thus made the intermediary between the two greatest Englishmen of my time, men of a type that seems now to be lost among us. Since Colonel Clive we have had no victorious captain, and since Mr. Pitt, no mighty minister, and hence it is that our country, which under the rule of a Cromwell or a Pitt, hath risen to be the arbiter of Europe, and held all nations in awe, is now sunk, under the sway of feeble intellects, to a precarious position, the mock of every power, and saved only by her fleets from absolute destruction.

I do not find it easy to describe my sensations when I was ushered into the presence of the Great Commoner, and saw before me that majestic figure, with the profile of a Roman conqueror, and a glance hardly less terrible to encounter than the full blaze of the sun. When I have stood before the Nabob of Bengal, throned in the midst of his Court, I have seen in front of me nothing but a peevish, debauched young man, but when I came into the room where Mr. Pitt was I felt that I was in the presence of a ruler of men. His attitude, his commanding gestures, and the stately manner he had of slowly moving his head round upon his neck to look at you, made a most tremendous impression; and I found it easy to believe the stories of men having risen to speak against him in the House of Commons, and then shrunk back miserably into their seats at a mere look from this extraordinary person.

Mr. Pitt’s manner of reading Colonel Clive’s despatch further impressed me. He broke the seals, seemed to do no more than give it a few devouring glances, and then laid it aside as though he were already master of its contents.

“You are Ensign Ford?” he demanded abruptly, fixing his eye upon me.

“I am, sir.”

“Colonel Clive tells me in this letter that you possess his confidence. Do you think, if I were to tell you my sentiments verbally, you could transmit them faithfully to your employer?”

“I will do my best, sir,” I replied, not a little astonished at this proposal. But I have considered the matter since, and I can see that there were many things which Mr. Pitt might not wish to write with his own hand, though he had no objection to their being repeated by me.

“In this letter,” he proceeded, “Colonel Clive makes a very startling proposal, which is no less than that English troops should be sent out sufficient to conquer the whole of Bengal, and that thereafter the administration of all the Indian territories should be taken out of the hands of the Company and brought immediately under the Crown. Now what I wish you to tell him from me in reply is this, that I am bound to consider his proposal not merely as it affects our situation abroad, but also as it bears upon our government at home. I am the minister, not of a despotic empire like France or Spain, but of a free people, and I must not suffer anything which may assist the Crown to encroach upon our liberties. Those liberties rest upon the necessity which our kings are under of asking us to tax ourselves for their support. Give them a foreign empire like that of Spain in the Americas, and you run a danger of rendering them independent. The wealth arising from the revenues of Indostan would enable the Crown to keep up a standing army in time of peace, without the consent of Parliament. Moreover, the administration of these territories would give occasion for the creation of great numbers of offices and pensions, by means of which our people might be fatally corrupted.

“I would have you further point out to Colonel Clive on my behalf,” continued Mr. Pitt, “that those Indians, whom he proposes to make our fellow subjects, are accustomed to be the slaves of a despot, and being such, they may become dangerous instruments to make slaves of us. I should dread to see the sovereigns of this country calling themselves emperors in the Indies, and valuing that character above that of kings of Great Britain. Believe me, young man, it is not easy for a nation to play the despot abroad without losing its freedom at home; as I have frequently observed that those who had returned to this country after holding great places in the East, have shown themselves indifferent to the rights of the subject here.”

All this, and much more, did Mr. Pitt say to me, of which I have preserved only these meagre recollections. But how feeble an image do the written words preserve of the eloquence with which he spoke, the enthusiasm which kindled in his eye when he touched upon our liberties, and the warning emphasis he laid upon his expressions about the power of the Crown! I felt almost as though I had been the bearer of propositions for some unnatural treason, and I was not a little relieved when Mr. Pitt finally concluded by bidding me thank Colonel Clive very heartily for his civility in writing to him, and promised to carefully consider of his suggestions.

To this he added some very high compliments to the Colonel’s great abilities and military glory, all of which I transmitted in a letter to Mr. Clive shortly afterwards. And I have set down the above warning of the great patriot minister in this place, for the instruction of posterity, in case a time should ever arrive when the people of this country, in their too eager grasping after foreign conquests contrary to the nature of an island, which is to rest content within the borders of its own seas, shall find they have bartered away the priceless heritage of their own freedom, and sunk into a mere unheeded fraction of a dominion which they no longer wield.