soldiers, traders, civil functionaries, the proud and ostentatious Mahommedans, the timid, supple, and parsimonious Hindoos.  A formidable confederacy was formed against him, in which were included Roydullub, the minister of finance, Meer Jaffier, the principal commander of the troops, and Jugget Seit, the richest banker in India.  The plot was confided to the English agents, and a communication was opened between the malcontents at Moorshedabad and the committee at Calcutta.

In the committee there was much hesitation; but Clive’s voice was given in favour of the conspirators, and his vigour and firmness bore down all opposition.  It was determined that the English should lend their powerful assistance to depose Surajah Dowlah, and to place Meer Jaffier on the throne of Bengal.  In return, Meer Jaffier promised ample compensation to the Company and its servants, and a liberal donative to the army, the navy, and the committee.  The odious vices of Surajah Dowlah, the wrongs which the English had suffered at his hands, the dangers to which our trade must have been exposed, had he continued to reign, appear to us fully to justify the resolution of deposing him.  But nothing can justify the dissimulation which Clive stooped to practise.  He wrote to Surajah Dowlah in terms so affectionate that they for a time lulled that weak prince into perfect security.  The same courier who carried this “soothing letter,” as Clive calls it, to the Nabob, carried to Mr. Watts a letter in the following terms:  “Tell Meer Jaffier to fear nothing.  I will join him with five thousand men who never turned their backs.  Assure him I will march nigh and day to his assistance, and stand by him as long as I have a man left.”

It was impossible that a plot which had so many ramifications should long remain entirely concealed.  Enough reached the ear of the Nabob to arouse his suspicions.  But he was soon quieted by the fictions and artifices which the inventive genius of Omichund produced with miraculous readiness.  All was going well; the plot was nearly ripe; when Clive learned that Omichund was likely to play false.  The artful Bengalee had been promised a liberal compensation for all that he had lost at Calcutta.  But this would not satisfy him.  His services had been great.  He held the thread of the whole intrigue.  By one word breathed in the ear of Surajah Dowlah, he could undo all that he had done.  The lives of Watts, of Meer Jaffier of all the conspirators, were at his mercy; and he determined to take advantage of his situation and to make his own terms.  He demanded three hundred thousand pounds sterling as the price of his secrecy and of his assistance.  The committee, incensed by the treachery and appalled by the danger, knew not what course to take.  But Clive was more than Omichund’s match in Omichund’s own arts.  The man, he said, was a villain.  Any artifice which would defeat such knavery was justifiable.  The best course would be to promise what was asked.  Omichund would soon be at their mercy; and then they might punish him by withholding from him, not only the bribe which he now demanded, but also the compensation which all the other sufferers of Calcutta were to receive.