Your Lordships have now seen this Mustapha Khan imprisoned and sentenced to death by Colonel Hannay, without judge and without accuser, without any evidence, without the fetwah, or any sentence of the law.  This man is thus put to death by an arbitrary villain, by a more than cruel tyrant, Colonel Hannay, the substitute of a ten thousand times more cruel tyrant, Mr. Hastings.

In this situation was the country of Oude, under Colonel Hannay, when he was removed from it.  The knowledge of his misconduct had before induced the miserable Nabob to make an effort to get rid of him; but Mr. Hastings had repressed that effort by a civil reprimand,—­telling him, indeed, at the same time, “I do not force you to receive him.” (Indeed, the Nabob’s situation had in it force enough.) The Nabob, I say, was forced to receive him; and again he ravages and destroys that devoted country, till the time of which I have been just speaking, when he was driven out of it finally by the rebellion, and, as you may imagine, departed like a leech full of blood.

It is stated in evidence upon your minutes that this bloated leech went back to Calcutta; that he was supposed, from a state of debt, (in which he was known to have been when he left that city,) to have returned from Oude with the handsome sum of 300,000_l._, of which 80,000_l._ was in gold mohurs.  This is declared to be the universal opinion in India, and no man has ever contradicted it.  Ten persons have given evidence to that effect; not one has contradicted it, from that hour to this, that I ever heard of.  The man is now no more.  Whether his family have the whole of the plunder or not,—­what partnership there was in this business,—­what shares, what dividends were made, and who got them,—­about all this public opinion varied, and we can with certainty affirm nothing; but there ended the life and exploits of Colonel Hannay, farmer-general, civil officer, and military commander of Baraitch and Goruckpore.  But not so ended Mr. Hastings’s proceedings.

Soon after the return of Colonel Hannay to Calcutta, this miserable Nabob received intelligence, which concurrent public fame supported, that Mr. Hastings meant to send him up into the country again, on a second expedition, probably with some such order as this:—­“You have sucked blood enough for yourself, now try what you can do for your neighbors.”  The Nabob was not likely to be misinformed.  His friend and agent, Gobind Ram, was at Calcutta, and had constant access to all Mr. Hastings’s people.  Mr. Hastings himself tells you what instructions these vakeels always have to search into and discover all his transactions.  This Gobind Ram, alarmed with strong apprehensions, and struck with horror at the very idea of such an event, apprised his master of his belief that Mr. Hastings meant to send Colonel Hannay again into the country.  Judge now, my lords, what Colonel Hannay must have been, from the declaration which I will now read to you, extorted from that miserable slave, the Nabob, who thus addresses Mr. Hastings.