“I really cannot see,” says Mr. Gleig, “upon what grounds, either of political or moral justice, this proposition deserves to be stigmatised as infamous.”  If we understand the meaning of words, it is infamous to commit a wicked action for hire, and it is wicked to engage in war without provocation.  In this particular war, scarcely one aggravating circumstance was wanting.  The object of the Rohilla war was this, to deprive a large population, who had never done us the least harm, of a good government, and to place them, against their will, under an execrably bad one.  Nay, even this is not all.  England now descended far below the level even of those petty German princes who, about the same time, sold us troops to fight the Americans.  The hussar-mongers of Hesse and Anspach had at least the assurance that the expeditions on which their soldiers were to be employed would be conducted in conformity with the humane rules of civilised warfare.  Was the Rohilla war likely to be so conducted?  Did the Governor stipulate that it should be so conducted?  He well knew what Indian warfare was.  He well knew that the power which he covenanted to put into Sujah Dowlah’s hands would, in all probability, be atrociously abused; and he required no guarantee, no promise, that it should not be so abused.  He did not even reserve to himself the right of withdrawing his aid in case of abuse, however gross.  We are almost ashamed to notice Major Scott’s plea, that Hastings was justified in letting out English troops to slaughter the Rohillas, because the Rohillas were not of Indian race, but a colony from a distant country.  What were the English themselves?  Was it for them to proclaim a crusade for the expulsion of all intruders from the countries watered by the Ganges?  Did it lie in their mouths to contend that a foreign settler who establishes an empire in India is a caput lupinum?  What would they have said if any other power had, on such a ground, attacked Madras or Calcutta, without the slightest provocation?  Such a defence was wanting to make the infamy of the transaction complete.  The atrocity of the crime, and the hypocrisy of the apology, are worthy of each other.

One of the three brigades of which the Bengal army consisted was sent under Colonel Champion to join Sujah Dowlah’s forces.  The Rohillas expostulated, entreated, offered a large ransom, but in Vain.  They then resolved to defend themselves to the last.  A bloody battle was fought.  “The enemy,” says Colonel Champion, “gave proof of a good share of military knowledge; and it is impossible to describe a more obstinate firmness of resolution than they displayed.”  The dastardly sovereign of Oude fled from the field.  The English were left unsupported; but their fire and their charge were irresistible.  It was not, however, till the most distinguished chiefs had fallen, fighting bravely at the head of their troops, that the Rohilla ranks gave way.  Then the Nabob Vizier and his rabble made their appearance, and hastened to plunder the camp of the valiant enemies whom they had never dared to look in the face.  The soldiers of the Company, trained in an exact discipline, kept unbroken order, while the tents were pillaged by these worthless allies.  But many voices were heard to exclaim, “We have had all the fighting, and those rogues are to have all the profit.”