Mr. SHERIDAN's SPEECH IN WESTMINSTER HALL,
TUESDAY, JUNE THE 3d, 1788.

THE Court being ſeated preciſely at twelve o'clock, MR. SHERIDAN aroſe.—It would be ſuperfluous, he obſerved, for him to call the attention of their Lordſhips to the magnitude and importance of the ſubject before them; to advert to the parties who were engaged in the buſineſs; or to depict the ſituation of thoſe multitudes who were ultimately to be affected. All this had already been done by the Hon. Gentleman (Mr. Burke) who opened the proſecution;—by him, who, alone, was equal to the taſk;—by him, to whom mankind was indebted for the em⯑bodied ſtand, which was now made in defence of the general rights of humanity.—Neither was it his intention to enter into any detail which might be deemed foreign to the quef⯑tion immediately before the Court:—he would only indulge himſelf in a few words reſpecting ſome inſinuations which had been thrown out againſt the perſons concerned in this proſecution. It had been whiſpered, by whom he could not ſay, that there was ſomething malicious, and ſomething, [6] perhaps, too violent in the manner in which it had been con⯑ducted. Speaking for himſelf, and as far as the heart of man could be known, for the other managers appointed by the Commons, he would boldly aſſert, that they had acted ſolely from conviction; not a conviction born in error, and nurſed by prejudice; but a conviction founded on deliberate and well-grounded enquiry;—that they had proceeded, not as rejoicing in puniſhment, but impelled by a ſanguine hope of remedy.—Perſonal malice! God forbid that they ſhould indulge ſuch a ſenſation againſt the unfortunate gentleman at the bar; but how, when they were to ſpeak of Rapine, of Cruelty, and of Extortion, could ſuch ideas be conveyed but in conſonant language? There was undoubtedly a diffe⯑rence between Impeachment for capital Crimes, and thoſe for Miſdemeanours only. In proceedings on the former, every latitude had been indulged by uſage, every aggrava⯑tion was employed, and every act of the Priſoner tortured into Criminality. No ſuch privilege was claimed by the managers on the preſent occaſion; but yet it ſhould be con⯑ſidered by thoſe, whoſe pity ſeemed to riſe in proportion with the guilt of its object;—that if ſuch a mode of proceed⯑ing was admiſſible in the former Caſe, where the life of the Priſoner was affected, it was ſtill more juſtifiable on an Im⯑peachment like the preſent; where the utmoſt conſequences of guilt, when proved, would be but a ſplendid excluſion of the Criminal from that Society which he had injured, or a trifling deduction from the ſpoils of a long continued Extor⯑tion.

It had been obſerved what was undoubtedly true, that no complaint from the natives of India had been preſented in the courſe of theſe proceedings. Thoſe, however, who were firſt to make this obſervation, were fully convinced that meekneſs in ſuffering was there a part of the national cha⯑racter, and that their terrors had been too deeply impreſſed, not to be long remembered. But though a deſpair of Britiſh Juſtice had prevailed through that Peninſula;—though their [7] ſubdued hearts could not even hope for relief;—yet their claims on the Juſtice and Humanity of their Lordſhips were not thereby diminiſhed, but recommended. He would not mention this Deſpair, without accompanying the obſervation by proof; he therefore read Extracts from two Letters, the firſt, lately received from Lord Cornwallis; the ſecond, en⯑cloſed from Captain Kirkpatrick to his Lordſhip: from both which it appeared, that ſuch was the prevailing ſenſe through India, of the injuries inflicted by the Engliſh, and of their repeated violations of every compact, that it would be long indeed before their confidence in Engliſh faith, or their re⯑liance on Engliſh juſtice, could again be reſtored.

To theſe complaints their Lordſhips were now to anſwer, not by profeſſions, but by facts;—not by remedial acts di⯑rected to the future, but by an exemplary puniſhment in⯑flicted on paſt delinquency. It was incumbent on them to ſhew to the oppreſſed natives of India, and to future Go⯑vernors and Judges, that there could be no authority ſo high, no office ſo ſacred, as not to be ſubject to the paramount power of Britiſh Juſtice.—He did not, however, mean to ſay, that the Example ſhould be made, unleſs the Guilt was firſt fully proved: No, God forbid, that in this free and juſt land, legal proof and legal guilt ſhould ever be ſepa⯑rated! —Though the greater part of the Evidence on this occaſion had been, with a few exceptions, wrung from the unrelenting accomplices of the priſoner—from men who had partook of the ſpoils, and were involved in the guilt; yet had he therefore no indulgence to demand, nor had he to requeſt that the Court ſhould take that as evidence on this occaſion, which on any other they might deem themſelves bound to refuſe. He, on the contrary, was now to bring forward to their Lordſhips a Maſs of Evidence, as full, as ſtrong, as competent, and as concluſive, as ever eſtabliſhed the guilt of a criminal, or ever brought conviction home to the breaſts of conſcientious Judges. In the performance of this taſk, he obſerved, he ſhould have the leſs difficulty, as [8] their Lordſhips had attended to the whole, voluminous and complicated as it appeared, with a diligence which did honor to their feelings, and ſhewed their individual ſenſe of the dignity of that high Tribunal, which they collectively formed.

The firſt part of this Evidence, to which he ſhould call the attention of the Court, was the Defences delivered in by Mr. Haſtings to the Houſe of Commons, and to their Lordſhips. On theſe, as being the voluntary admiſſions of the Priſoner, unextorted by any threat, and unbiaſſed by any perſuaſion, much ſtreſs had undoubtedly been laid. To a part of theſe, however, an objection had been made, the moſt extraordinary, perhaps, that had ever been advanced in a Court of Criminal Juſtice:—an objection which, when Mr. Haſtings was well adviſed, as he undoubtedly was— when he was ſaved from his own raſh Guidance, the Ma⯑nagers could ſcarcely have expected. This objection was, that a Part of the firſt Defence in particular, not having been written by Mr. Haſtings, but by ſome of his friends, that Gentleman was not bound by any admiſſions therein contained. Mr. Haſtings, on appearing at the Bar of the Houſe of Commons, had pleaded the haſte in which he had written, in palliation of his inaccuracies; he had even made a merit of doing that himſelf, which would be leſs dangerous if he had committed it to another!—But now, ſaid Mr. Sheridan, that he finds that there is ſomething more than inaccuracy—ſomething fraught with that actual danger which he had apprehended—he reverts to that plea which he had abandoned, and declares that he had committed the truſt to others!—He diſclaims all his former merits, and avers that, in making up his tale, he had not truſted ſolely to his own powers,—that he had put his Memory into Com⯑miſſion, and parcelled out his Conſcience into different depart⯑ments. The ſtructure, it appeared, went on, whilſt Mr. Haſtings was content with overſeeing and cheering his La⯑bourers. —"Mr. Shore, ſaid he, you will take care to make [9] me appear a good Financier! Major Scott, my Judgment is repoſed in your hands! Mr. Middleton, my HUMANITY is your's!!!—The work being thus done, Mr. Haſtings ſur⯑veyed it with a careleſs glance, and adopted it as his own. But now that its defects appear, the Child of his Adoption becomes the object of his averſion, his approbation ceaſes, and his language is totally changed.—The Defence is, in general, made up of general denials of the Charges, inter⯑mixed with encomiums on his own conduct; yet Mr. Haſtings exclaims, "Subject me to all the other evidence againſt me; —I know I can truſt to their want of Recollection, and their force of Attachment.—Bare my boſom to every ſhaft of En⯑mity, but ſave me from the Perils of my own Panegyric!"— The haſte in which theſe productions were written, was alſo alledged by Mr. Haſtings as an apology for every error; but did it follow, that, becauſe a man wrote rapidly, he ſhould alſo write falſely? or was it, that the truth and candour of Mr. Haſtings were ſo deeply buried in his boſom, that long ſtudy alone could bring them upwards, whilſt the natural falſhood, floating on the ſurface, could be transferred with extemporaneous readineſs to every topic, whether to be written, or to be uttered?—Theſe were the apologies offered for the variations, the admiſſions, and the inconſiſtency, of Mr. Haſtings's Defences; but theſe, it was to be hoped, for the ſake of propriety and good ſenſe, would never again be repeated.

Mr. Sheridan, on quitting this ſubject, entered into a very full and happy delineation of the ſituation of the Princeſſes of Oude. No peruſal of the Turkiſh Hiſtory, he obſerved, nor attention to the precepts of the Mahometan religion, could give their Lordſhips any idea of the manners of the women of high caſts in Hindoſtan. Educated in a profound reſpect to the cuſtoms of their Perſian anceſtors, they maintained a purer ſtyle of Prejudice, and a loftier degree of Superſtition; dwelling perpetually within the precincts of their Zenanas, the Simplicity of their ſentiments was equalled only by the [10] Purity of their conduct. In thoſe innocent retreats, they were circumſcribed, not immured; for ſuch was the force of Prejudice, that Liberty would be looked on as a curſe to thoſe, to whom the common gaze of men would be regarded as an unexpiable violation. However miſtaken their ideas, they were placed there by the hand of Piety, and could not be diſturbed but by a ſacrilege. They were as Relics on an altar, which, though depoſited by Superſtition, none but the impious would diſturb.

In addition to thoſe claims, Mr. Haſtings himſelf had borne teſtimony to the Duty which Children owed to Parents in Hindoſtan: yet the Bhow Begum, or mother of the reigning Nabob, had ſtill ſtronger demands on the affection of her ſon.—In the year 1764, when Sujah Dowlah, after the battle of Buxar, was driven from that territory by the Engliſh—which their politic Generoſity afterwards reſtored— ſhe bore her private treaſures to his aſſiſtance, and was re⯑warded by the reſpectful attachment of his future life, with the deviſe of all his territories to her ſon. she had alſo interfered in a quarrel between her ſon and her huſband, and, when the ſavage father was about to ſtrike down his ſon with a ſabre, at the expence of her blood, preſerved that life which ſhe gave.—Theſe were pleas in her favor, which would have exacted the reverence of any man—but one! But theſe pleas, the ſex, the age, and character of the Begums; and what was yet more, the death-bed recom⯑mendation of Sujah Dowlah, were all of no weight with Mr. Haſtings. This was therefore the object of the preſent charge;—that where he owed protection, he had been the ſevereſt oppreſſor; that the weakneſs which ſhould have claimed his aid, but excited his violence; that he had ſub⯑jected the ſon thus, to make him the ungracious inſtrument of his tyranny over the parent, and had firſt made him a ſlave, in order that he might become—a monſter!

The interference of Mr. Briſtow in 1775, in the diffe⯑rences between the Begums and the Nabob, in conſequence [11] of the claims of the latter, was the next ground of Mr. SHERIDAN'S obſervations.—Mr. Briſtow had then, in a con⯑verſation with the ſuperior or elder Begum, thrown out an inſinuation, that the treaſures which ſhe poſſeſſed were the treaſures of the State,—and on this inſinuation, ſo termed by Mr. Briſtow himſelf, had Mr. Haſtings founded all his arguments on that head, and on which he lately appeared to place ſo much reliance.—The Begums at that time gave up to the Aſoph ul Dowla ſums amounting to five hundred and fifty thouſand pounds.—Of this a part was to be paid in goods, which as they conſiſted of arms, elephants, &c. the Nabob alledged to be his property, and refuſed to accept as payment. This occaſioned a diſpute which was referred to the Board of Calcutta. Mr. Haſtings then vindicated the right of the Begums to all the goods in the Zenana, and brought over the majority of the Council to his opinion. The ideas then placed on record, he had ſince found it con⯑venient to diſown, as belonging not to him, but to the majo⯑rity of the Council!—How theſe opinions could be trans⯑ferred, it might be difficult for their Lordſhips, though well informed of the effects of Majorities and Minorities, to deter⯑mine. As well might Mr. BURKE, on a future day deliver an encomium on that great and good man, Mr. Haſtings! and if reminded of his ſhare in the proſecution, alledge, that he was not accountable for ſo nefarious a proceeding; that his opinions when once delivered, were no longer his own; that at the time, he had conſtantly acted in a Minority.

The claims, however, it was obſervable, of the Nabob, as to the treaſure of the Begums, were at this time the only plea alledged for the ſeizure. Theſe were always founded on a paſſage of that Koran which was perpetually quoted, but never proved.—Not a word was then mentioned of the ſtrange rebellion which was afterwards conjured up, and of which the exiſtence and the notoriety were equally a ſecret.— A diſaffection which was at its height, at the very time when the Begums were diſpenſing their liberality to the Nabob, [12] and exerciſing the greateſt generoſity to the Engliſh Officers in diſtreſs!—a diſturbance, in ſhort, without its parallel in hiſtory, which was raiſed by two Women,—carried on by two Eunuchs,—and finally ſuppreſſed by an Affidavit!

Mr. Sheridan then adverted to the negociations of Mr. Middleton with the Begums in 1778, when the diſcontents of the ſuperior Begum would have induced her to leave the country, unleſs her authority was ſanctioned, and her pro⯑perty ſecured by the Guarantee of the Company.—This Guarantee, the Council, or Mr. Haſtings, had thought it neceſſary to deny, as knowing that if the agreements with the Elder Begum were proved, it would affix to Mr. Haſt⯑ings the guilt of all the ſufferings of the Women of the Khord Mahal, the revenues for whoſe ſupport were ſecured by the ſame engagement. In treating this part of the ſub⯑ject, the principal difficulty aroſe from the uncertain evidence of Mr. Middleton, who though concerned in the negociation of four treaties, could not recollect affixing his ſignature to three out of that number. Mr. Sheridan proved, how⯑ever, from the evidence even of Mr. Middleton, that a Treaty had been ſigned in October, 1778, wherein the rights of the Elder Begum were fully recognized; a proviſion ſecured for the Women and Children of the late Vizier in the Khord Mahal; and that thoſe engagements had received the fulleſt ſanction of Mr. Haſtings. Theſe facts were con⯑firmed by the evidence of Mr. Purling, a gentleman, who, Mr. Sheridan ſaid, had delivered himſelf fairly, and as having no foul ſecrets to conceal. He had tranſmitted copies of theſe engagements in 1780 to Mr. Haſtings at Calcutta; the anſwer returned was, that in arranging the taxes on the other diſtricts, he ſhould paſs over the Jaghires of the Be⯑gums. No notice was then taken of any impropriety in the tranſactions in 1778, nor any notice given of an intended revocation of thoſe engagements.

But in June 1781, when General Clavering, and Colonel Monſon, being no more, and Mr. Francis having returned [13] to Europe, all the hoard and arrear of collected evil burſt forth without reſtraint, and Mr. Haſtings determined on his Journey to the Upper Provinces;—it was then that, without adverting to intermediate tranſactions, he met with the Na⯑bob Aſoph ul Dowlah, at Chunar, and received from him the myſterious preſent of 100,000l.—To form a proper idea of this tranſaction, it was only neceſſary to conſider the re⯑ſpective ſituation of him who gave, and him who received, this preſent.—It was not given by the Nabob from the ſuper⯑flux of his wealth, nor in the abundance of his eſteem for the man to whom it was given: it was, on the contrary, a prodigal bounty, drawn from a country depopulated,—no matter whether by natural cauſes, or by the grinding of Oppreſſion. It was raiſed by an exaction, which took what Calamity had ſpared, and Rapine overlooked;—and purſued thoſe angry diſpenſations of Providence, when a prophetic chaſtiſement had been inflicted on a fated realm.—The ſe⯑crecy which had marked this tranſaction, was not the ſmalleſt proof of its criminality. When Benaram Pundit had, a ſhort time before, made a preſent to the Company of a lack of rupees, Mr. Haſtings, in his own language, deemed it "worthy the praiſe of being recorded." But in this in⯑ſtance, when ten times that ſum was given, neither Mr. Middleton nor the Council were acquainted with the tranſ⯑action, until Mr. Haſtings, four months after, felt himſelf compelled to write an account to England, and the intelli⯑gence returned thus circuitouſly to his friends in India!—It was peculiarly obſervable in this tranſaction, how much the Diſtreſſes of the different parties were at variance. Mr. Haſtings travels to the Nabob, to ſee, no doubt, and enquire into his Diſtreſſes, but immediately takes from him 130,000l. to be applied to the neceſſities of the diſtreſſed Eaſt-India Company. But, on farther deliberation, theſe conſidera⯑tions vaniſh: a third object ariſes, more worthy than either of the former, and the money is taken from the one, and [14] demanded from the other, to be applied to the uſe of—the diſtreſſed Mr. Haſtings.

The money, it was alledged by Mr. Haſtings, had been originally taken to diſcharge the Arrear of the Army. It had not been applied to that uſe, becauſe it was received in bills on Gopal Dos, a rich Banker, of Benares, who was then kept a priſoner by Cheit Sing.—Major Scott being queſtioned on the ſubject, declared, that bills on Gopal Dos were as good as caſh; for that, though the principal of the houſe was a priſoner, that circumſtance made no difference whatſoever with the other partners. Thus Mr. Haſtings was inconſiſtent with himſelf, by alledging an objection which ſhould have prevented his taking the money, in the firſt inſtance, for the purpoſe he had ſtated; and Major Scott contradicting Mr. Haſtings, removed the objection, and reſtored the buſineſs to its original footing.—But, through all thoſe windings of myſterious Hypocriſy, and of artificial Concealment, it was eaſy to mark the ſenſe of hidden Guilt. Mr. Haſtings himſelf, being driven from every other hold, advanced the ſtale plea of State Neceſſity: but of this neceſſity he had brought no proof; it was a neceſſity which liſtened to whiſpers, for the purpoſe of crimination, and dealt in ru⯑mour to prove its own exiſtence.—To a General leading the armies of Britain; to an Admiral bearing her thunders over the ſeas,—the plea of Neceſſity might be indulged, if the wants of thoſe were to be ſupplied whoſe blood had been ſpilt in the ſervice of their country; but then, like the im⯑perial eagle deſcending from its neſt, though it deſolated the ſkirts of the rock, the Motive and the Conduct would be equally conſpicuous. No concealment would then be neceſ⯑ſary, and they would diſdain the veil which covered the dark mean arts of buſy Peculation.

On the buſineſs of the Treaty of Chunar, which ſucceeded the acceptance of this bribe, Mr. Sheridan was equally per⯑ſpicuous and equally ſevere. It was a proceeding, he ob⯑ſerved, [15] which, as it had its beginning in Corruption, had its continuance in Fraud, and its end in Violence. The firſt propoſition of the Nabob after his recent liberality, was, that the army ſhould be removed, and all the Engliſh re⯑called from his dominions. The Bribe which he had given was the obvious price of their removal. He felt the weight of their oppreſſion—he knew, to ſpeak his own language, "that, when the Engliſh ſtaid, they ſtaid to aſk for ſome⯑thing." Though their predeceſſors had exhauſted the reve⯑nue —though they had ſhaken the tree until nothing remained upon its leafleſs branches, yet a new flight was on the wing to watch the firſt buddings of its proſperity, and to nip every promiſe of future luxuriance.

To this demand Mr. Haſtings had promiſed to accede, and to recal every Engliſhman from the province; but by an evaſion, which Mr. Middleton diſcloſed with ſo much diffi⯑culty to their Lordſhips, on the laſt day of his appearance, the promiſe was virtually recalled. No orders were afterwards given for the eſtabliſhment of Engliſhmen in the province, but recommendations of the ſame effect, with Mr. Middleton and the Vizier, were ſent, and the practice continued.—In the agreement reſpecting the Refumption of the Jaghires, the Nabob had been duped by a ſimilar deception. He had demanded and obtained leave to reſume thoſe of certain indi⯑viduals: Mr. Haſtings, however, defeated the permiſſion, by making the order general; knowing that there were ſome favourites of the Nabob whom he could be by no means brought to diſpoſſeſs.—Such was the conduct of Mr. Haſtings, not in the moment of cold or crafty policy, but in the hour of confidence, and the efferveſcence of his gratitude for the favour he had juſt received. Soaring above every common feeling, he could deceive the man to whoſe liberality he ſtood indebted—even his Gratitude was perilous—and a danger actually awaited on the return which he was to make to an effuſion of generoſity!

[16] The tranſactions in which Sir Elijah Impey bore a ſhare, and the tenor of his evidence, were the next objects of Mr. Sheridan's animadverſion.—The late Chief Juſtice of Bengal, he remarked, had repeatedly ſtated, that Mr. Haſtings left Calcutta with two Reſources in his view,—thoſe of Benares and of Oude. It appeared, however, from every circum⯑ſtance, that the latter reſource was never in his contempla⯑tion, until the inſurrections in Benar [...], terminating in the capture of Bedjeygur, had deſtroyed all his hopes in that province. At that inſtant the min [...] of Mr. Haſtings, fertile in reſources, fixed itſelf on the Treaſures of the Begums, and Sir Elijah Impey was diſpatched to collect materials for their crimination. "But I have ever thought," ſaid Mr. Sheridan, "the ſelection of ſuch a perſonage, for ſuch a purpoſe, one of the greateſt aggravations of the guilt of Mr. Haſtings."—That he, the purity of whoſe character ſhould have influenced his conduct, even in his moſt domeſtic retirements; that he, who, if conſulting the dignity of Britiſh Juſtice, ſhould have remained as ſtationary as his Court in Calcutta;—that ſuch a man ſhould be called to travel Five Hundred miles, for the tranſaction of ſuch a bu⯑ſineſs, was a deviation without a plea, and a degradation without example.—This, however, was in ſome degree a queſtion to be abſtracted for the conſideration of thoſe who adorned and illumined the ſeats of Juſtice in Britain, and the purity of whoſe character precluded the neceſſity of any further obſervations on ſo different a conduct.

With reſpect to the manner in which Sir Elijah Impey had delivered his evidence, it required ſome obſervation, though made without imputing to that gentleman the ſmalleſt culpability. Sir Elijah had admitted, that in giving his evidence he had never anſwered without looking equally to the probability, and the conſequences of the fact in queſtion. Sometimes he had even admitted circumſtances of which he had no recollection beyond the mere probability that they [17] had taken place. By conſulting in this manner what was probable, and the contrary, he might certainly have corrected his memory at times, and Mr. Sheridan ſaid he would accept that mode of giving his teſtimony, provided that the inverſe of the propoſition might alſo have place, and that where a circumſtance was improbable, a ſimilar degree of credit might be ſubtracted from the teſtimony of the witneſs. Five times in the Houſe of Commons, and twice in that Court, for inſtance, had Sir Elijah Impey borne teſtimony, that a rebellion was raging at Fyzabad, at the time of his journey to Lucknow. Yet on the eighth examination, he had contradicted all the former, and declared, that what he meant was that the rebellion had been raging, and the country was then in ſome degree reſtored to quiet.—The reaſons aſſigned for the former errors were, that he had for⯑gotten a letter received from Mr. Haſtings, informing him that the rebellion was quelled, and that he had alſo forgot⯑ten his own propoſition of travelling through Fyzabad to Lucknow. With reſpect to the letter, nothing could be ſaid, as it was not in evidence; but the other obſervation would ſcarcely be admitted, when it was recollected that in the Houſe of Commons Sir Elijah Impey had declared that it was his propoſal to travel through Fyzabad, which had originally brought forth the information that the way was obſtructed by the rebellion!—From this information Sir Elijah Impey had gone by the way of Illyabad,—but what was yet more ſingular, was, that on his return he would again have returned by the way of Fyzabad, if he had not been again informed of the danger;—ſo that had it not been for theſe friendly informations, the Chief Juſtice would have run plump into the very focus of the rebellion!—There were two circumſtances, however, worthy of remark;—the firſt was, that Sir Elijah Impey ſhould, when charged with ſo dangerous a commiſſion as that of procuring evidence, to prove that the Begums had meditated the expulſion of their ſon from the Throne, and of the Engliſh from Bengal, [18] ſhould twice intend to paſs through the city of their reſi⯑denc; and that he, as he alledged, from mere motives of ſchoolboy corioſity, ſhould chooſe the primroſe path—and with, when engaged in ſuch a buſineſs, to loiter in the way, and idle in the ſun-ſhine.—The ſecond circumſtance worthy of obſervation, was, that if a concluſion could be made from a cloud of circumſtances, the inference on this occaſion would undoubtedly be, that Sir Elijah Impey was diſſuaded by Mr. Haſtings, and Mr. Middleton from paſſing by the way of Fyzabad, as well knowing, that if, as a friend to Mr. Haſtings, he were to approach the Begums, he would be convinced by his reception, that nothing could be more foreign from the truth than the idea of their ſuppoſed diſaf⯑fection. —It was alſo obſervable, that Sir Elijah Impey, at Lucknow, taking evidence in the face of day in ſupport of this charge of rebellion againſt the Begums, when converſing with the Nabob and his Miniſter, heard not a ſingle word from either of a rebellion, by which it was propoſed to de⯑throne the Nabob, and to change the Government of his dominions!—And equally unaccountable it appeared that Sir Elijah Impey, who had adviſed the taking of thoſe affi⯑davits for the ſafety of Mr. Haſtings, had never read them at the time, for the purpoſe of ſeeing whether they were ſuf⯑ficient for the purpoſe, or the contrary!—After ſo long a reſerve, however, and after declaring on oath that he thought it unneceſſary, the next ſtep taken by Sir Elijah Impey, was to read the affidavits, as, however late, they might contribute ſomething to his information. He had been led to this ſtudy by his own allegation, from having been miſted by Mr. SHERIDAN, one of the managers on the part of the Commons, who by looking at a book which he held in his hand, had perſuaded him to declare that a ſworn interpreter was preſent on the receiving of thoſe-affidavits; that Major Davy was preſent for that purpoſe—and that whoever it was, he was perfectly ſatisfied with his conduct on the occaſion; when it was actually in evidence that no interpreter whatſo⯑ever [19] was preſent.—Now, ſaid Mr. Sheridan, how I, by merely looking into a book, could intimate the preſence of an interpreter, could inculcate the aſſiſtance of Major Davy, and could alſo look the ſatisfaction conceived by Sir Elijah Impey, are queſtions which I believe that Gentleman alone is able to determine!

He ſhould admit, however, he ſaid, that Sir Elijah Impey had not ſtrictly attended to forms on the occaſion of taking thoſe affidavits; that he had merely directed the bible to be given to the Whites, and the Koran to the Blacks, and had packed up in his wallet the returns of both without any further enquiry; or that he had glanced over them in India, having previouſly cut off all communication between his eye and his mind, ſo that no conſciouſneſs was transferred from the former to the latter; and that he had read them in Eng⯑land, if poſſible, with leſs information:—however ſtrange theſe circumſtances might be, he would admit them all;— he would even admit, that the affidavits were legally and properly taken—and yet would prove that thoſe affidavits were not ſufficient to ſuſtain any one point of criminality againſt thoſe who were the ſubjects of the preſent Charge.

[Adjourned to Friday.]

Mr. SHERIDAN's SPEECH CONTINUED.
FRIDAY, JUNE THE 6th.

MR. SHERIDAN then reſumed his ſpeech, where he had left off on Tueſday laſt, with a ſhort preface to the following effect:

In obedience to the commands of the Honourable Ma⯑nagers, he ſaid, he roſe to continue the obſervations which he had to make, in ſumming up the evidence on the ſecond Charge againſt Warren Haſtings, Eſq.—In doing this, he truſted it would be believed that he had been, and would continue to be, moſt guarded in quoting the evidence on which he might have to animadvert, correctly and accurately, and that for this purpoſe he had left off where he did, a part of what he wiſhed to obſerve on not being in the way. He left off at the affidavits, and here it was that he meant to re⯑ſume his ſpeech: he conſidered their Lordſhips as in fact [22] employ [...]d in trying the truth of the matter of thoſe affida⯑vits, and the allegations therein contained, upon which he would have no objection to reſt the whole truth of the charge brought againſt the priſoner. It was in this view, and for this purpoſe, that he wiſhed to take up ſome part of their Lordſhips time; but, before he entered into the diſcuſſion of the affidavits, there were two or three matters on which he was deſirous of ſaying a few words. In the outſet of this buſineſs, it had been held forth as an allegation on the part of the priſoner at the bar, and as an excuſe of the atrocious proceeding againſt the Begums, that they had been guilty of various acts of hoſtility, as well as of a wiſh to dethrone the Nabob; and it was aſſorted that the affidavits taken at Lucknow all tended to prove theſe facts. Of the firſt of theſe two allegations, he challenged the Counſel for the pri⯑ſoner to produce a ſingle inſtance drawn from thoſe affidavits. There was not a ſingle inſtance,—nay, the allegation was even abandoned by themſelves;—a pretty ſtrong proof that it had been taken up lightly. When a charge conſiſted of two parts, and one of them was abandoned, it was very na⯑tural for a man to diſtruſt the other. It certainly was not a proof that the other was falſe alſo, nor did he mean to aſſume any ſuch argument; he ſaid only, that it would influence the mind ſo far as to make it curious and particular in the en⯑quiry, and to make it at leaſt diſtruſt the truth of the other branch of the charge alſo. But their Lordſhips, in this par⯑ticular caſe, would have additional reaſon for jealouſy and diſtruſt: they would recollect from whom theſe aſſertions and charges againſt the Begums came, and by whom they were made: they were made by Mr. Haſtings, who went forth from Calcutta in the year 1781, for the avowed purpoſe of collecting a large ſum of money, and who acknowledged that he had but two reſources. Here then we had, in the ſame perſon, the accuſer and the judge—nay more, we had a judge corruptly intereſted in the accuſation he was to make, and who intended to draw a profit, and reap an ad⯑vantage, [23] from deciding on the accuſation which he himſelf made. He would not take up their Lordſhips time, in ſay⯑inga word on the groſs turpitude of ſuch a double character, nor on the frontleſs diſregard of all the feelings which ought to actuate the human heart, in thus mixing characters that ought never to be joined. What did he deſire from all this? Only that an accuſation, made under ſuch circumſtances, ſhould not meet with implicit belief, and that their Lord⯑ſhips, remembering that it was ſo made, would accompany him through the diſcuſſion of the affidavits, free and unin⯑fluenced by thoſe prefatory and general aſſertions.

The next matter that he was anxious to proſs on their conſideration, previous to his taking up the affidavits, was the infinite improbability of ſuch an intention being true, from the utter impoſſibility of executing the deſign. Eſti⯑mating the power of the Begums at the moſt ſanguine ſtand⯑ard, it could not evidently be in their reach to accompliſh any overthrow, deciſive or momentary, of the Nabob, much leſs of the Engliſh. He was not, however, ſo weak as to aſſert a doctrine, that becauſe a thing was improbable, it was not therefore attempted; or that, becauſe they had no intereſt in the accompliſhment of the object, they there⯑fore did not undertake it. He could not look to Mr. Haſtings without knowing, and being forced to acknowledge, that there were people with ſuch a perverſe turn of mind as to proſecute miſchief without intereſt; and that there were paſſions in the human ſoul, which lead to turpitude without a motive.

He now came to the conſideration of the affidavits—that maſs of legal evidence on which the priſoner meant to reſt his defence, and which he conſidered of ſo much conſequence to his acquittal on this charge. He had ſaid, that when the Honourable Mover of the Impeachment came to this charge, he treated the affidavits in his peculiar manner, and loaded them with terms of opprobrious reproach. What the pecu⯑liar manner of his Honourable Friend was, as hinted in this [24] manner, he could not tell; but he, for his own part, would ſay, that if they were treated otherways than with diſdain, they had not their deſert. It was aſſerted, that they were taken in the deſire of procuring the beſt poſſible evidence of the ſtate of the country, and of the circumſtances of the inſurrection. This was a direct falſhood;—they were taken for no other purpoſe but that of juſtifying Mr. Haſtings in his plunder of the Begums; that no other intention was in the minds of any of the perſons concerned, and that the deſign was not formed, until, by the failure of one of his reſources, this only remained for the plunderer.

He left off with the crippled teſtimony of his friend Dewen Sing. Here then he began, and he entered into a minute diſcuſſion of all the affidavits, reading, comparing, and commenting on the paſſages. To enumerate all theſe would require much ſpace; nor, unleſs the reader was well ac⯑quainted with all the facts, would it be poſſible for us to make him taſte and feel the ſtrength of Mr. Sheridan's rea⯑ſoning, which was as cloſe, connected, and convincing, as any ſpeech we ever heard on any occaſion. He particularly animadverted on the affidavits of Hyder Beg Cawn, who, though the Miniſter of the Nabob, and the man of all others the beſt acquainted with the tranſactions then paſſing in the country, did not ſay one ſyllable on the ſubject of the pre⯑tended rebellion, nor hint any thing of the kind; and this, though the affidavit was made in November, 1781, and the rebellion was pretended to have been at leaſt previous to that time:—on that of Mr. Middleton, which alſo was taken on the 27th of November, and that after he knew the pleaſure of Mr. Haſtings as to the plunder of the Begums. The only paſſage which his affidavit contained reſpecting the in⯑ſurrection, was, that he had heard from rumour that they had given much encouragement, and ſome aid, to the Jag⯑hiredars, in reſiſting the reſumption; and that he heard there had been a good diſpoſition in them towards the Rajah Cheit Sing. The whole of his evidence went on mere hear⯑ſay [25] and rumour, and it amounted to much encouragemet and ſome aid—on which circumſtance it was that he made up his conſcience to the plunder, and probably to the de⯑ſtruction of the ladies. He knew nothing of it himſelf, though he was the Reſident. He ſaw no inſurrection; he met with no indiſpoſitions; he knew nothing of it himſelf, but he had heard that they had encouraged the Jaghiredars to reſiſt, and on this, and no more, was this conſcientious ſervant of Mr. Haſtings ready to execute any ſcheme of plunder that he ſhould deviſe.—The Hon. Manager alſo particularly adverted to the affidavit of Major M 'Donald, of Captain Gordon, and of a Frenchman, whoſe depoſition was quite in the French ſtyle, magnificent and glittering: it talked of his having penetrated the deſarts—of his having ſeen tygers—of his having kept the beſt company—and heard a vaſt number of important rumours, but not one word about the rebellion of the Begums.—He went through the affidavits of Colonel Hannay, and, among others, to that ſtating that three Zemindars, on the 31ſt of December, had ſaid, that they were credibly informed that there was a deſign in the Begums againſt the Nabob. But theſe conſci⯑entious Serjeants would not ſuffer their names to be men⯑tioned: all the reward that they expected was to be con⯑cealed —although they were thus rendering ſervice to their Sovereign, and that that Sovereign was now in entire poſſeſ⯑ſion of power, and free from all poſſible effects of any me⯑ditated hoſtility from the quarter alledged to have deſigns.

Having ſtated the contents of the ſeveral affidavits, he ſaid, he knew that in a Court of Law, if the trial were de⯑pending merely on the truth and validity of theſe affidavits, he ſhould be ſtopt, if he attempted to begin any anſwer to, and obſervation upon them. He ſhould be told from the Bench—What do you mean to anſwer? There is nothing contained in theſe affidavits upon which we can ſuffer you to take up the time of the Court one minute. There is not, from the beginning to the end, one particle of legal, ſub⯑ſtantial, [26] or even a defenſible proof. Nothing but hearſay and rumour. Such he knew would be the admonition which he ſhould receive in any Court of Law; but meaning and wiſhing to meet every thing at their Lordſhip's bar, on which the priſoner could build the ſmalleſt degree of depend⯑ance, it was his wiſh to examine ſeparately the points which it was the aim of the priſoner to ſet up by theſe affidavits. They were three in number, and he ſhould treat of each ſingly.

• 1. That the Begums gave aſſiſtance to the Rajah Cheyt Sing.
• 2. That they encouraged and aſſiſted the Jaghiredars to reſiſt the reſumptions of the Jaghires.
• And, 3. That they were the principal movers of all the commotions in Oude.

Th [...]ſe were the three allegations, which it was meant to inſinuate theſe affidavits contained—and all theſe were ac⯑companied with a general charge, that the Begums were in rebellion. He declared, that in regard to the laſt inſinua⯑tion, he had ſearched with all the indefatigable induſtry of an antiquary, hunting for a precious veſtige that was to decide ſome important point in hiſtory, for this rebellion.— But of this rebellion, which in the mouth of Mr. Haſtings was ſpoken of with as much certainty as that of 1745 was mentioned in England, no trace nor appearance could he find.—He could neither find the place where it raged, nor time when. No battle had been fought—no army had marched—no blood had been ſpilt—not one ſingle thing had happened, by which any one creature in the country where it was ſaid to happen could poſſibly have diſcovered that a rebellion was there. It was a rebellion that never ſtruck a blow, and that never was ſtruck.—It was a rebellion, the object of which was unnatural, but which died a natural death. If rebellions of ſuch a kind could be, there was no ſaying where a rebellion might not exiſt. Perhaps, at the very moment that he was ſpeaking, there might be a rebel⯑lion [27] raging in the heart of London. Perhaps it might be at this moment lying perdue in ſome of the adjacent villages; or like the oſtentatious encampment that had given celebrity to Brentford and Ealing, it might have taken up its head quarters at Hammerſmith, or Iſtington, ready to pour down its violence on the approach of night. He was very eager to aſcertain the time of this horrid rebellion. There was nothing ſo clear and manifeſt as this fact—that there was none in the beginning of Auguſt 1781. On the 29th of that month there were confidential letters from Col. Morgan the commanding officer, and there was not one ſyllable in theſe letters of any ſuch thing. He afterwards detache [...] troops from Cawn Poote; and on the 27th of September he gives an account of ſome inſurrection at Lucknow; but of none at Fyzabad, nor of any thing like it. There was a letter from Major Hannay, then at the Rajah's Court, dated the 10th of September, in which there is an account of the ſtate of the Rajah's affairs; but not one ſyllable of any de⯑ſign of his being aſſiſted by the Begums. There was after this a letter from the ſame Court, communicating the re⯑fources of the Rajah. In this letter he was adviſed to apply to the Nabob himſelf, from whom there was a probability of his receiving ſuccour; but not to apply to Hyder Beg, who was ſtated to be intereſt of the Engliſh. During all this time, therefore, there was no rebellion. The Nabob went to ſee his mother, the very lady who was ſaid to have riſen in rebellion againſt him. But Mr. Middleton ſtated, that he was accompanied by 2000 horſe, having no martial memory on common occaſions. Mr. Middleton could exactly tell that theſe troops kept pace with the Nabob, who tra⯑velled very faſt, ſo much ſo that he could hardly keep up with him; but the Nabob having, according to Mr. Mid⯑dleton, taken 2000 horſe with him, he obſerved the Coun⯑ſel ſeized on the 2000 horſe, and certainly meant to aſſert that theſe 2000 horſe were taken for no other purpoſe than to quell the inſurrection; unfortunately, however, for the [28] martial memory of Mr. Middleton, Captain Edwards, who was rather more of a military man, and whoſe duty it was to accompany the Nabob, ſtated that he had but five or ſix hundred horſe, and thoſe ſo miſerably equipped, and ſo bad that they were not able to keep up with him, and but a few indeed were near his perſon, or within the reach of any com⯑mand, ſo as to be applied to any ſervice; for of theſe few, the moſt were diſaffected and mutinous from being ill paid; ſo that the horſe that he had with him were rather diſpoſed to aſſiſt than to quell any inſurrections. Still more unfortu⯑nately, the memory of Mr. Middleton had unexpectedly cleared up, and informed the Court that it was a conſtant thing for the Princes of India to travel with a great equi⯑page, and that it was conſidered as a diſreſpect to the perſon whom they viſited, to come unattended. But the Counſel ſhould have the whole of the horſe, camels, elephants, and all, and they ſhould all gallop as faſt as they might pleaſe to wiſh.—What did they mean, or wiſh to eſtabliſh from this fact? It never was their intention to inſinuate that the Na⯑bob went to pay his reſpects to his mother unattended by his retinue. He could not mean to go incog. unleſs he wiſhed to keep pace with the rebellion.—That hearing of a rebellion of two old women without an army, he thought that it ſhould be quelled by a Prince in diſguiſe, without his guards. They did not mean to ſay that the Indian Princes travelled like the Princes of Europe, who ſometimes from one motive, and ſometimes from another—at times from political views, and at times from curioſity—travelling ſome to France to learn manners, others to England to learn liberty—choſe to be relieved from the pomps of ſtate, and from the drudgery of equipage.—It was not ſo in India— where the manners required oſtentation, and where it would be conſidered as an inſult for one Prince to viſit another without maintaining his ſtate.

He then, as he ſaid, would put to the route a thouſand audges, who were ſaid to be diſpatched by the Begums, for [29] the purpoſe of promoting an inſurrection. He detected all the contradictory accounts that had been given of theſe matchlock-men, and having ſhewn the complete fallacy at⯑tempted to be impoſed on the credulity of the world in this inſtance, he aſked why the younger ſon of the Bhow Begum had not been ſuſpected of having any concern or intereſt in this rebellion? This particularly had been very thoroughly explained. Sir Elijah Impey had been aſked whether this Prince had any wealth?—No, none—he was miſerably poor, and was a penſioner—there was the ſolution of the difficulty. There never was in the mind of Mr. Haſtings a ſuſpicion of treaſon where there was not treaſure. Penury was a com⯑plete and ſatisfactory proof that he could not be diſaffected— opulence on the contrary was a manifeſt indication of diſloy⯑alty. Mr. Haſtings, in his political ſagacity, took the con⯑verſe of the doctrine that the experience of hiſtory had eſtabliſhed; that opulence and wealth, as they attached a man to the country where they lay, made him cautious and circumſpect how he hazarded any enterprize that might draw on himſelf the jealouſy of Government. Poverty on the other hand made a man giddy and deſperate; having no permanent ſtake, he was eaſily ſeduced into commotion. Mr. Haſtings, on the contrary, never failed to find a con⯑vincing and ſelf-evident proof of attachment in penury, and an unanſwerable evidence of rebellion in wealth.

In enumerating the various ſtrong inſtances of the ſteady friendſhip and good diſpoſition of the Begums to the Engliſh intereſts, Mr. Sheridan particularly animadverted on the repreſentation they had made in favour of Captain—, whoſe life they had ſaved at the very moment when, if they had meant to ſtrike any blow againſt the Engliſh intereſts, the blow would have been felt.—This gentleman, whoſe life the Bhow Begum had ſaved, and who in the firſt and natural feelings of the ſoul, had repeatedly poured forth his grateful acknowledgements of the obligation, had afterwards been made the inſtrument of the deſtruction of his faviour. [30] It had been aſked why the Managers had not called Captain —to the bar.—Why call him to the bar!—He never hoped to ſee him at the bar till he came there with fervent contrition and penitentiary zeal, to make atonement to the Princeſs, who was to him his ſecond creator, and whom, with the breath of life, the gift of the Begum, he had accuſed; and in the preſence of their common God; had ſolemnly poured forth a part of that breath in an affidavit, by which her ruin was to be accompliſhed! He would not believe it poſſible, that after having repeatedly acknowledged that he owed his life and liberty to the beneficent hand of this Lady, he could ſo far forget all that he owed, as of his own mere motion to come forward and make this affidavit. His knowledge of human feelings would not permit him to believe that it could be poſſible for any human creature to be guilty of an act ſo atrocious.—He muſt imagine that the Gentleman had been deluded and impoſed upon—that he had been falſely and ſcandalouſly deceived—and that at the moment when he made that affidavit, he was ignorant of the uſe to which it was to be applied.—He hoped, and truſted, that ſeeing that he was made the inſtrument of the ruin, and overthrow of his benefactreſs, he would come forward and ſtate the impoſition that had been practiſed upon him—for he could not be perſuaded that any human creature could be capable of ſtanding up in the preſence of God, and exclaim⯑ing —To this woman I owe my life, and my gratitude ſhall be her deſtruction.

Mr. Sheridan continued in a ſtrain of eloquence more lofty and commanding than any thing we ever heard, to ſtate the circumſtance of the book, the leaves of which were torn out, and which was mutilated for the purpoſe of con⯑cealment. After ſtating all the circumſtances of this fact, and the manner in which the fact had been accounted for, he called it a black perjury.—Then riſing in his eloquence to a flight beyond our power to trace him, he ſaid, that theſe letters, though thus torn and mangled, were brought [31] light.—That power which gives to the arms of infant inno⯑cence the ſtrength of Hercules—which controuls the mighty, and abaſhes the confident—which gives to truth perſuaſion beyond the reach of eloquence—the look that appalls—the ſupplicating tear that ſoftens—the tone tender, but con⯑firmed, which at once foothes and convinces the ſoul—that power, which in all the turns and windings of hypocritical and impudent falſehood ever ranges on the ſide of ſimple and unobtruding truth, leads the mind through all the mazes of craft and wickedneſs, with which this myſterious villainy is covered, and arouſing all the indignation of juſtice, points its puniſhment, Heaven-directed, to the head of the deteſted but unrepenting author.

Mr. Sheridan proceeded to ſhew in how many inſtances, and at what critical times the ſincere friendſhip of the Be⯑gums had diſtinguiſhed itſelf, and been exerted in our favour. In that critical moment, when after the affair of Captain Gordon, the intereſts of Mr. Haſtings were, ac⯑cording to his own account, almoſt deſperate; during the whole time, from the 22d of Auguſt to the 22d of Septem⯑ber, when with a prodigality of truth he truly confeſſed that the ſituation of himſelf and his ſmall party was deſperate;— when the hoarded vengeance of Heaven was about to burſt, and ſeemed to wait only for the completion of his guilt in the attempt on Cheit Sing, to break on his head, and pre⯑cipitate him to ruin—what did they do? Inſtead of ſeizing on the criſis to carry into effect any ſcheme they might have engendered againſt him—inſtead of accompliſhing his over⯑throw, which with their aid would at that moment have been certain, theſe women, with a nobleneſs worthy of the ſex, though ill applied as to the object, came forward to ſhare in, not to contribute to his fall.

So much as to the firſt head of charge againſt the Begums. —The ſecond charge, that of their aſſiſting the Jaghiredars, he ſhould ſay but little on. We learned in February 1782, of the Begums having countenanced the reſiſtance.—True— [32] And they now gave this preſumed countenance diſcovered in February 1782, as a reaſon which operated to the ruin of the Princeſſes in November 1781. He took notice alſo of the curious circumſtance of Mr. Middleton's ſending back the troops at the deſire of the Nabob; but ſtating that having done ſo, the Nabob muſt pay an extraordinary price in future, as theſe troops might be employed againſt his own Aumeels.

He now came to the third charge, ſaid to be eſtabliſhed by thoſe affidavits.—That the Begums had been the prin⯑cipal movers of all the commotions in Oude; and here he confeſſed he thought there was ſuch a body of damning evi⯑dence as required only to be ſtated, and which would render all elucidation unneceſſary. The commotions in Oude were ſimply and ſolely to be attributed to the Engliſh gentlemen. The Nabob's deſcription of their rapacity and violence was itſelf a full extention of all that was now to be attributed to the poor old women. He gave a very particular account of their depredations. They had but one argument, conſiſting of two words. They wanted all the money that could poſ⯑ſibly be raiſed in the country, by violence, by extortion, by rapine, or by ſtealth, but for two purpoſes, to pay the army, and fee the adminiſtration of Juſtice. He ſtated the various ſteps which had been taken by the Nabob, to deliver his devoted country from their violence, and particularly from the vulture graſp of Colonel Hannay, until at length, as Major Naylor wrote, a gentleman, whoſe ſoul poſſeſſed the qualities of his ſpecies, "the inhabitants, whoſe meek natures no irritation had been theretofore able to provoke, were at length goaded into tumult; and in their deſpair, that meek⯑neſs, that yielding, and womaniſh ſoftneſs which charac⯑terized every action, changed to a perſevering obſtinacy that was not to be ſubdued."—So that on the banks of the Ganges where the inſurrection happened, the routed would not fly, the wounded would not ſuffer themſelves to be cured.—Here again we had opened to us another vein of the richeſt and [33] pureſt eloquence, and which in daring to touch, we are ſen⯑ſible we ſhall debaſe.

If, exclaims Mr. Sheridan, if a ſtranger had at this tim (in 1782) gone into the kingdom of Oude, ignorant of what had happened ſince the death of Sujah Dowla, that man who with a ſavage heart had ſtill great lines of character, and who with all his ferocity in war, had ſtill with a culti⯑vating hand preſerved to his country the riches which it derived from benignant ſkies, and a prolific ſoil—if this ſtranger, ignorant of all that had happened in the ſhort in⯑terval, and obſerving the wide and general devaſtation, and all the horrors of the ſcene—of plains uncloathed and brown —of vegetation burnt up and extinguiſhed—of villages depo⯑pulated and in ruin—of temples unroofed and periſhing—of reſervoirs broken down and dry—he would naturally en⯑quire, what war has thus laid waſte the fertile fields of this once beautiful and opulent country—what civil diſſenſions have happened thus to tear aſunder, and ſeparate the happy ſocieties that once poſſeſſed thoſe villages—What diſputed ſucceſſion—What religious rage has, with unholy violence, demoliſhed thoſe temples, and diſturbed ſervent, but unob⯑truding piety, in the exerciſe of its duties—What mercileſs enemy has thus ſpread the horrors of fire and ſword—What ſevere viſitation of Providence has thus dried up the foun⯑tains, and taken from the face of the earth every veſtige of green?—Or rather, what monſters have ſtalked over the country, tainting and poiſoning with peſtiferous breath, what the voracious appetite could not devour?—To ſuch queſtion, what muſt be the anſwer? No wars have ravaged theſe lands and depopulated theſe villages—No civil diſcords have been felt—No diſputed ſucceſſion—No religious rage— No mercileſs enemy—No affliction of Providence, which, while it ſcourged for the moment, cut off the ſources of re⯑ſuſcitation —No voracious and poiſoning monſters—No—All this has been accompliſhed by the friendſhip, generoſity, and kindneſs of the Engliſh nation—They have embraced us with [34] their protecting arms—and, lo, theſe are the fruits of their allian [...]. What then, ſhall we be told, that under ſuch circumſtances, the exaſperated feelings of a whole people, thus goaded and ſpurred on to clamour and reſiſtance, were excited by the poor and feeble influence of the Begums! When we hear from Capt. Naylor the deſcription that he gives of the paroxiſm, fever, and delirium, into which deſ⯑pair had thrown the natives, when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, panting for death, they tore more widely open the lips of their gaping wounds, to accelerate their diſſolution, and while their blood was iſſuing, preſented their ghaſtly eyes to Heaven, breathing their laſt and fervent prayer that the dry earth might not be ſuffered to drink their blood, but that it might riſe up to the throne of God, and rouſe the eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their country. Will it be ſaid that all this was brought about by the incantations of theſe Begums in their ſecluded Zenana? or that they could inſpire this enthuſiaſm and this deſpair into the breaſts of a people who felt no grievance, and had ſuffered no torture? What motive then could have ſuch influence in their boſoms? What motive! That which Na⯑ture, the common parent, plants in the boſom of man, and which, though it may be leſs active in the Indian than in the Engliſhman, is ſtill congenial with, and makes a part of his being.—That feeling which tells him, that man was never made to be the property of man; but that when in the pride and inſolence of power, one human creature dares to tyrannize over another, it is a power uſurped, and reſiſt⯑ance is a duty.—That feeling which tells him that all power is delegated for the good, not for the injury of the people, and that when it is converted from the original pur⯑poſe, the compact is broken, and the power is to be re⯑ſumed. —That principle which tells him that reſiſtance to power uſurped is not merely a duty which he owes to him⯑ſelf, and to his neighbour, but a duty which he owes to his God in aſſerting and maintaining the rank which he gave [35] him in his creation!—To that common God, who, where he gives the form of man, whatever may be the complexion, gives alſo the feelings and the rights of man.—That principle, which neither the rudeneſs of ignorance can ſtifle, nor the enervation of reſinement extinguiſh!—That principle which makes it baſe for a man to ſuffer when he ought to act; which tending to preſerve to the ſpecies the original deſigna⯑tions of Providence, ſpurns at the arrogant diſtinctions of man, and vindicates the independent quality of his race.

Mr. Sheridan, after this, proceeded to ſay, that he thought an attentive peruſal of all the circumſtances, as he had en⯑deavoured to exhibit them to the view of their Lordſhips, would ſatisfy them of the innocence of the Begums. But he was ſenſible that the proof of their innocence carried with it no concluſive proof of the guilt of the priſoner; and this was the next object of his ſpeech. In a cloſe chain of argument, he proved that the rebellion was not projected—was not even in the imagination of Mr. Haſtings, until their ruin had been determined; that the rebellion was an after⯑thought, and was taken up as a means of juſtification, in the conſciouſneſs that juſtification was neceſſary. To prove this, he ſhewed, that he never wrote to the Council until the month of February; that though he wrote letters to Mr. Wheeler, and though, in his famous narrative, he called the God of Truth to witneſs that he had made no conceal⯑ment, he concealed every particle, both of the rebellion and of the plunder, until he had been able to make up the body of rant and craft, rhapſody and enigma, which he produced under the title of "A Narrative of the Tranſactions." He ſhewed, that his pretended reaſons for the concealment of five months, were direct fallacies; and having taken pains to elucidate theſe points, he ſaid, that it had been a practice with Mr. Haſtings to hold himſelf out as a preternatural being, gifted with good fortune, or elſe the peculiar favou⯑rite of Heaven, and that Providence never failed to take up and carry, by wiſe but hidden means, every project of his [36] to its deſtined end. In this blaſphemous way did the priſoner at the bar libel the courſe of Providence. Thus, according to him, when his corruptions and briberies were on the eve of expoſure, Providence inſpired the heart of Nundcomar to commit a low baſe crime, in order to ſave Mr. Haſtings from ruin. Thus alſo, when in his attempts on Cheyt `Sing, and his plunder of the Begums, Providence ſtepped in, and in⯑ſpired the one with reſiſtance, and the other with rebellion, to forward his purpoſes. Thus did he arrogantly hold him⯑ſelf forth as a man, not only the favourite of Providence, but as one for whoſe ſake Providence departed from the eternal courſe of its own wiſe diſpenſations. Thus did he preſume to ſay, that he was honoured and aſſiſted in the adminiſtration of office by inſpired felonies, heaven born armies, and providential treaſons! arraigning that Provi⯑dence whoſe works are goodneſs, and whoſe ways are right.

It ſeemed, through the whole of his defence upon this charge, that Mr. Haſtings, ſenſible that truth would undo him, thought that falſhood of any nature would ſerve his turn. In this view he had drawn together a ſet of falſe⯑hoods, without conſiſtency, and without connection, not knowing, or not remembering, that there is nothing which requires ſo much care in the fabrication as a ſyſtem of lies. The ſeries muſt be regular and unbroken; but his falſhoods were eternally at variance, and demoliſhed one another. Indeed, in all his conduct he ſeemed to be actuated but by one principle—to do things contrary to the eſtabliſhed form. This architecture militated againſt the firſt principles of the art. He begun with the frieze and the capital, and laid the baſe of the column at the top. Thus having his houſe turned up-ſide down, he plumed himſelf on the novelty of his idea, till it came trembling about his ears. His fortifi⯑cation was equal to his architecture. He raiſed a rampart on a ſpot which the enemy might command: he meant to ſurround himſelf with a foſſe, but left an opening for the [37] aſſailant. He built on a precipice, and encamped on a mine.

Perhaps it might be ſaid, that that guilt could not be great, where the veil with which it was covered was ſo thin. He was not of this opinion. His honourable and exalted friend, who had opened generally to their Lordſhips the articles of Impeachment, and whoſe name he never could mention but with the reſpect and admiration due to his virtue and his talents; whoſe proud diſdain of vice could only be equalled by the ability with which he corrected it; whoſe eloquence was not tranſitory, as happily there were portions of it that would be felt and admired, when all of the aſſembly then preſent would be mute, and moſt of them forgotten— his honourable friend had ſaid, in opening the charges, "that there was ſomething in the nature and conformation of vice, which made it inconſiſtent with prudence." He could not agree implicitly with his honourable friend in this ſentiment. If the true definition of prudence were the diſ⯑crete management and conduct of a purpoſe to its ſucceſsful end, he thought he could imagine to himſelf inſtances in which this ſpecies of prudence might be diſcovered in minds diſtinguiſhed by the atrocity of their acts. When he ob⯑ſerved the actions of a Philip of Macedon, of a Caeſar, of a Cromwell, he could perceive great guilt ſucceſsfully con⯑ducted to its end, if not by legitimate prudence, at leaſt by conſummate craft. It was therefore his opinion, that the doctrine of his honourable friend held true only in thoſe minds which could not be ſatisfied with the indulgence of a ſingle crime; where, inſtead of one baſe maſter-paſſion hav⯑ing the complete ſway, to which all the faculties were ſubject, and on which alone the mind was bent, there was a combuſ⯑tion and rivalry among a number of bad paſſions; where pride, vanity, avarice, luſt of power, cruelty, and ſo forth, all at once actuated the human ſoul, and diſtracted its func⯑tions, —all of them clamouring for deſtruction, and each in it own barbarous jargon preferring its claim,—all diſſonant [38] and tumultuous,—all of them ſtruggling for pre-eminence and each counteracting the other. In ſuch a mind, undoubt⯑edly, great crimes could never be accompanied by prudence. There was a fortunate diſability, occaſioned by the conten⯑tion, that reſcued the human ſpecies from the villainy of the intention. Such was the original denunciation of Nature.— Not ſo was it with the pure paſſions: in the breaſt where they reſided, the harmony was never interrupted by the number; a perfect and ſubſtantial agreement gave an acceſſion of vigour to each, and ſpreading their influence in every direction, like the divine intelligence and benignity from which they flowed, all of them filling their ſeveral ſpaces, ſome in their larger, ſome in their more contracted orbits, moving by ſweet conſent in their allotted place,—they ſe⯑cured true glory and happineſs to the individual by whom they were poſſeſſed, and extended it to the community of which he was a member.

Mr. Sheridan was then proceeding to ſhew, that the Nabob had violated the covenant of Nature, in riſing up againſt his mother; but that to this ſhameleſs outrage he was driven by the tyranny of the priſoner, who, as he had be⯑fore ſaid, had made him a ſlave, to compel him to become —a monſter!

[Adjourned to Tueſday.]

MR. SHERIDAN'S SPEECH CONTINUED.
TUESDAY, JUNE THE 10th.

MR. SHERIDAN began without any other preface than this, that relying on the indulgence with which he had been hitherto ſo largely honored, he would reſume his ſpeech, he ſaid, where he had ſtopped on the preceding day, without taking up any of their Lordſhips time in preliminary matter. He had left off with that part of the body of evi⯑dence which proved the abject ſtate of vaſſalage in which the Nabob was held, and by which it was, in his opinion, rendered manifeſt, that every act of his, particularly thoſe ſtrong acts in which he violated every obligation of a ſon, were done not merely at the inſtigation, but abſolutely at the command of the priſoner. It would not be difficult to prove, that if he had been independent he certainly would not have committed thoſe acts, and this he ſhould be able to demonſtrate to their Lordſhips. But firſt he begged leave to ſay, that in the perpetration of thoſe ſhameful and atrocious crimes which made the ſubject of the preſent charge, there were three principal, and three ſubordinate actors. The three principal, or rather the one great and leading princi⯑pal, with his two chief coadjutors, were Mr. Haſtings, Mr. Middleton, and Sir Elijah Impey.—The three ſubordi⯑nate actors were Colonel Hannay, Hyder Beg Cawn, and Ali Abram Cawn. Before he proceeded to ſhew that every [40] one of the acts were forcibly impoſed on the Nabob, he made ſome obſervations on part of the evidence of Sir Elijah Impey. He had given as a reaſon for not having at any time after he took the affidavits, converſed with Mr. Haſtings on the ſubject to which they alluded, that he quitted Chunar the next day, and that therefore he had not had an oppor⯑tunity of ſeeing, in order to converſe with him on that or any ſubject. Mr. Sheridan ſhewed, from letters written by Sir Elijah and Mr. Haſtings, that they had quitted Chunar in company, and had continued together for ſome time. Sir Elijah had ſtated alſo, that he had delivered the affidavits into the hands of Mr. Haſtings, and knew nothing of them afterwards. Mr. Sheridan ſhewed that Major Davie had received the Perſian affidavits from Sir Elijah to tranſlate on the 12th of December, although Sir Elijah had ſaid that he gave them to Mr. Haſtings previous to his quitting Chunar, which was on the 1ſt of December. Mr. Sheridan ſaid, he took notice of theſe facts juſt to ſhew the reſpect that was to be paid to the teſtimony of Sir Elijah.

With regard to the affidavits as a body of evidence, the whole was mere hearſay and rumour. Captain Scott, who by being in the country where the ſcene of the rebellion was ſaid to lye, had had a good opportunity of knowing the facts, was not examined, and the teſtimony of Hoolas Roy, who of all others was the beſt informed on the ſubject, was ſuppreſſed. That his affidavit was taken was manifeſt, and he called on the priſoner to ſay where this affidavit was con⯑cealed, and why it was withheld. Mr. Sheridan ſaid, that in the celebrated letter written by Mr. Haſtings, dated the 19th of December, his own knowledge of the tranſactions was the moſt confuſed and contradictory that could be ima⯑gined. He enumerated the various contradictions of that letter.—He ſaid that Mr. Haſtings had made a number of curious aſſertions in regard to the plunder of the treaſures, and reſumption of the jaghires.—The propoſition was firſt made to him, that the treaſures ſhould be taken as an alter⯑native [41] for the jaghires, but in making that propoſition it was ſaid, that they belonged of right to the Nabob.—Mr. Haſtings took it in the firſt ſenſe, as he called it; that was, he determined to ſeize on the treaſures, not as an alternative for the jaghires, but to take them firſt becauſe the propoſi⯑tion was made, and to take the jaghires afterwards. He was very anxious to have it believed that the propoſition came from the Nabob, although, by the whole tenor of Mr. Middleton's letters, confidential as well as public, it was demonſtrated with what difficulty they were able to extort from him his conſent to the violence. Mr. Sheridan adverted to the curious letter written by Mr. Haſtings to Mr. Middle⯑ton and Mr. Johnſon, ſaying that the treaty made by him with the Nabob at Chunar, from its favourable tendency, had given riſe to ſuſpicions that money had been taken to procure it, and calling on them to exculpate themſelves.— Upon which they with great formality declared on their honours, and before God, that they had neither received any bribe, nor had an idea of any; which declaration, made with ſo much ſolemnity, ſatisfied Mr. Haſtings, ari⯑ſing a little perhaps from the conſciouſneſs that he had the money in his pocket. Mr. Sheridan proceeded to ſhew, that ſo far from theſe acts being done at the inſtigation of the Nabob, it was with the utmoſt difficulty that they could receive from him a formal ſanction, and on this ſubject ſeveral letters were read by Mr. Adam, and in particular he reconciled the letters written by Middleton on the 1ſt and 6th of December, by ſaying that in regard to the ſeizure of the treaſure of the Begums he only required a hint from Mr. Haſtings, but as the reſumption of the jaghires was likely to be a ſervice of danger, there nothing leſs than a public order would ſatisfy Mr. Middleton. After arguing this point with dexterity, Mr. Sheridan came to the extraordinary letters of Mr. Middleton, dated on the 30th of December, wherein they are intended for the confidential and private uſe of Mr. Haſtings; he denied the truth of what he had [42] ſaid in his public diſpatch, which was to be ſubmitted to the Council, and ſaying at the ſame time that if Mr. Haſtings wiſhed him to ſay any thing, or to give any other colour to the proceedings, he was ready to do it. Mr. Sheridan, after placing this diſgraceful ſubſerviency in ſo glaring a point of view, requeſted Mr. Adam to read other letters neceſſary to illuſtrate this part of the charge, and to ſhew the anxious pains and ſolicitude of Mr. Haſtings to eſtabliſh ſomething like an excuſe for the turpitude of his conduct.

*⁎*While theſe letters were reading, Mr. Sheridan, who was ſeized with a ſudden, though flight indiſpoſition, retired to the Managers room. He was, after ſome refreſhment, deſirous of proceeding; but his friends perſuaded him to the contrary; and Mr. Fox came into the Court, and ſaid, that Mr. Sheridan being by his indiſpoſition prevented from doing that juſtice to the charge which it was his wiſh to do, the Managers requeſted that their Lordſhips would be pleaſed to adjourn, and appoint another day on which he might proceed.

Their Lordſhips accordingly withdrew, and ſent a meſ⯑ſage to the Houſe of Commons, that the Court will ſit again on Friday the 13th.

MR. SHERIDAN'S SPEECH CONTINUED,
FRIDAY, JUNE THE 13th, 1788.

MR. SHERIDAN roſe, and being in a great meaſure recovered from the indiſpoſition which prevented him from proceeding on Tueſday, reſumed his ſpeech, by thank⯑ing their Lordſhips for the indulgence they had ſhewn him, and aſſured them that nothing but poſitive inability to pro⯑ceed, on Tueſday, in a manner worthy of the importance, and the dignity of his cauſe, could have induced him to give them the trouble of ſitting another day.

He then reminded their Lordſhips, that in commenting on the evidence reſpecting the reſumption of the jaghires, and the plunder of the Begums, he had left off with the public and private correſpondence between Mr. Haſtings and Mr. Middleton. This correſpondence demanded the moſt minute attention, for it contained all the facts of that foul and unmanly conſpiracy; it contained a true account of the cauſe of that conſpiracy, and alſo the quibbles, the tricks, the mean ſhifts and evaſions, by which it had been attempted to conceal it.

On the public correſpondence, as contraſted with the private, he animadverted with the moſt penetrating acute⯑neſs; and expoſed the groſs contradictions, the laboured fallacies, and ſtudied miſrepreſentations that pervaded the whole.—Their Lordſhips would naturally enquire with ſome [44] degree of ſurpriſe, how the private letters that were thus to eſtabliſh the guilt of their authors had come to light.—In the middle of December, 1782, a coldneſs had taken place between Mr. Haſtings and Mr. Middleton. Mr. Haſtings had been hurt at the tardineſs with which Middleton proceeded, and had charged him with the heinous offence of per⯑mitting two days forbearance from the Nabob to his mother. —From this moment ſhyneſs and ſuſpicion between the principal and the agent took place. Mr. Middleton heſi⯑tated about the expediency of the meaſure, and began to doubt whether the advantage would be equal to the riſk. Mr. Haſtings, whether he apprehended that Middleton was retarded by any return of humanity or ſentiments of juſtice, by any ſecret combination with the Begum and her ſon, or a wiſh to take the lion's ſhare of the plunder to himſelf, was incenſed at the delay. Mr. Middleton repreſented the unwil⯑lingneſs of the Nabob to put in execution the reſumption of the jaghires; the low ſtate of his finances; that his troops were mutinous for want of pay; and that his life had been in danger from an inſurrection among them. That in this moment of diſtreſs he had offered one hundred thouſand pounds, in addition to a like ſum paid before, as an equiva⯑lent for the reſumption which was demanded of him. Of this offer, however, it appeared the Nabob knew nothing. In conferring an obligation, it was ſometimes contrived, from motives of delicacy, that the name of the donor ſhould be concealed from the perſon obliged; but here was delicacy of a new ſort—the perſon conferring the favour was to be kept ignorant that he had conferred it. Yet, after the re⯑turn of Middleton in 1783, there was the ſame friendly col⯑luſion, the ſame fraudulent familiarity, between him and Mr. Haſtings, that had exiſted before this difference took place. He was brought down in December, 1782, and no charge was brought againſt him till April following. Then it was that Mr. Haſtings, in a ſudden fit of juſtice, preferred the charge againſt him, and threw down his letters on the [45] Council-table. Whatever was the meaning of this charge, whether it was a juggle to elude enquiry, or whether it was intended to make an impreſſion at Fyzabad; whether Mr. Haſtings drew up the charge, and inſtructed Mr. Middleton to draw up an eaſy defence; or whether Middleton drew up the charge, and Mr. Haſtings the defence, there appeared in the whole tranſaction the ſame habitual colluſion in which they lived—and it ended in a rhapſody, a repartee, and a poetical quotation. By this act of providential folly, the private letters were produced, and the production of them was concluſive proof of the conſpiracy. The private letters were the only part of the correſpondence to be looked to. They were written in the confidence of private communica⯑tion, without any of the motives to palliate and colour facts, to confound and miſlead the judgment, which ap⯑peared on the very face of the public correſpondence.

Mr. Sheridan then referred to a letter from Lucknow, written under ſuch particular circumſtances, and at ſuch a particular period, that had the alledged rebellion of the Begums ever exiſted, but in imagination, it muſt have been mentioned in that letter. Where then was the proof of the rebellion? Not where it ought naturally to be found, but in the affidavits collected by Sir Elijah Impey—In the fabri⯑cated public correſpondence between him, Mr. Haſtings, and Mr. Middleton. In that letter there was no mention of rebellion. It was indeed ſaid, that if ſuch meaſures were rigorouſly purſued as had been ſet on foot, the people might be driven from murmur to reſiſtance, and riſe up in arms againſt their oppreſſors. Then indeed a little providential ſlaughter would ſubſtantiate the rebellion which they wiſhed to find, and afford a pretext for premeditated plunder. But there was a clumſineſs in the fraud, a coarſeneſs in the exe⯑cution which defeated its purpoſe, and expoſed it to detec⯑tion.

He animadverted with much ſeverity on the conduct of Sir Elijah Impey, in collecting the affidavits. At one mo⯑ment [46] he appeared in Oude, at another in Chunar, at a third in Benares, collecting affidavits. The gravity of his buſineſs and the vivacity, the rapidity, the celerity of his move⯑ments, made a ſingular contraſt. To him might have been applied the words of Hamlet to the ghoſt, "What, True⯑penny! are you there?" Like the ghoſt he was heard in every quarter crying aloud, ſwear! But the ſimilitude went no farther; he was never heard to give the injunction,

In the memorable private letter from Mr. Middleton of the 28th of December, 1781, in which he acknowledged the receipt of a private letter from Mr. Haſtings, although no private letters from the priſoner had been produced—a circumſtance which could only be accounted for, and ariſe from the habitual awe in which Middleton was kept by the domineering power and faſcinating influence of his maſter. In this letter, Middleton told him, that in the preſent fer⯑mented ſtate of the country, the reſumption could not be accompliſhed but with infinite hazard—At the ſame time Mr. Johnſon wrote him to the ſame purpoſe. The words of his letter were memorable. He thought it would require a campaign to carry into execution the orders for the reſump⯑tion of the Jaghires. A campaign againſt whom! Againſt the officers and army of their ally, the Nabob, who had given the order. This reſumption was ſtated to be for his good, and for the good of his country, and it was only to be ac⯑compliſhed by a campaign. Such was the manner in which the Engliſh, under the auſpices of Mr. Haſtings, protected their allies in India. The protection of the Engliſh was the miſery and ruin of the protected. It was the protection of the vulture to the lamb, which covers while it devours its prey—which ſtretching its baleful pinions, and hovering in mid air, diſperſes the kites and leſſer birds of prey, and ſaves the innocent and helpleſs victim from all talons but its own.

[47] It was curious to remark, that in the correſpondence of theſe creatures of Mr. Haſtings, and in their earneſt endea⯑vours to diſſuade him from the reſumption of the Jaghires, not a word is mentioned of the meaſure's being contrary to honour, to faith, derogatory to national character, unmanly or unprincipled.—No ſuch thing—They knew the man to whom they were writing, and their only arguments were, that it was contrary to policy, to expediency—and that the event was not likely to proſper in the only way in which it could be worth the attempt—in the accumulation of money. Not one word did they mention of the juſt claims which the Nabob had to the gratitude and friendſhip of the Engliſh— Not one ſyllable of the treaty by which we were bound to protect him—Not one ſyllable of the relation which ſubſiſted between him and the ladies they were about to plunder— Not one ſyllable was hinted about juſtice or mercy—nothing was ever addreſſed to him but the apprehenſion that the money to be procured would not be worth the danger and labour with which it muſt be attended. Such was the ſource and origin of all his actions, and it was that baſe and profli⯑gate motive that, urging him to every ſpecies of meanneſs and of cruelty, did give ſuch a ſtamp and impreſſion to his acts as made them unparalleled in ancient or modern hiſtory. He would be bold to ſay, that nothing could be found in the hiſtory of human turpitude, nothing in the nervous delinea⯑tions and penetrating brevity of Tacitus, nothing in the luminous and luxuriant pages of Gibbon, or of any other hiſtorian, dead or living, who, ſearching into meaſures and characters with the rigour of truth, preſented to our abhor⯑rence depravity in its blackeſt ſhapes, could equal, in the groſſneſs of the guilt, in the hardneſs of heart with which it was conducted, or in the low and groveling motive, the acts and character of Mr. Haſtings—He, who in the baſe deſire of ſtripping two helpleſs women, could ſtir the ſon to riſe up in vengeance againſt them—who when that ſon had certain touches of nature in his breaſt—certain feelings of [48] an awakened conſcience to indicate that he was a man—ac⯑cuſed that ſon of entertaining peeviſh objections to the plun⯑der and ſacrifice of his mother—Who having deſtroyed in his boſom all thought—all reflection—all memory—all con⯑ſcience—all tenderneſs and duty as a ſon—all dignity as a monarch—having deſtroyed his character, and depopulated his country, at length brought him to violate the deareſt ties of nature, and countenance the deſtruction of his parents— and who having thus debauched this poor and miſerable in⯑ſtrument of his crimes to his purpoſe, deceived and ruined him in turn. He—this inhuman violator of all ties, ſacred and profane, had in this ſingle crime, he would be bold to ſay, no parallel nor prototype in the old world, or the new, from the day of original ſin to the preſent hour.

And yet when in this climax he thought he had got to the ſummit and pinnacle of his guilt, he found ſomething ſtill more tranſcendently flagitious. He particularly alluded to his famous letter, falſely dated the 15th of February, 1782, in which, at the very moment that he had given the order for the entire deſtruction of the Begums, and for the reſump⯑tion of the jaghires, expreſſed to the Nabob the warm and lively intereſt which he took in his welfare—the ſincerity and ardour of his friendſhip—and that though his preſence was imminently wanted at Calcutta, he could not reſt a moment without coming to the Nabob's aſſiſtance, and in the mean time, he had ſent four regiments to his aid.—So deliberate and cool—ſo hypocritical and inſinuating was the villainy of this man! The heart was exaſperated by the malignity of this arch treaſon—But at length the Nabob was on his guard —He could not be deceived by this maſk—The offer of the four regiments developed the object of Mr. Haſtings.—He perceived the dagger bunglingly concealed in the hand that was held out with a ſmile to meet him—and we accordingly heard no more from the Nabob of reliance on the friendſhip of Mr. Haſtings.—This letter was ſent at the very time when the troops had ſurrounded the walls of Fyzabad, and now [49] began the ſcene of horrors, which, if he merely wiſhed to rouſe their Lordſhips feelings, he ſhould only have occaſion minutely to deſcribe. To ſtate the violence committed on that palace, which the piety of the kingdom had raiſed for the retreat and ſecluſion of the objects of its pride and vene⯑ration. He thought he ſaw innocence repoſing in thoſe ſhades, rendered ſacred by ſuperſtition.—Venerable age and helpleſs infancy here found an aſylum, and to the violation of this ſcene were ſent an Impey to invigorate the flagging conſci⯑ence of a Middleton;—and an Ali Khan aſſiſted by the ſtouter villainy of a Hyder Beg. Rapine, outrage, and violence followed in the train, while Haſtings, though ſtanding aloof, was in fact the maſter general of the war, and through the whole of the dreadful ſcene of horror their Lordſhips ſaw him—"ride in the whirlwind, and direct the ſtorm."

He now with an admirable accuracy and force of reaſoning went over the correſpondence, which then paſſed between Middleton and the Begums; he particularly alluded to the letter ſent by the Begum to Middleton, with his anſwer, in which he declared himſelf equally the friend of the Nabob and the Begum, although he had previouſly ſworn in the pre⯑ſence of God, that he thought ſhe had hoſtile deſigns againſt her ſon and the Engliſh, and had made up his conſcience to ſtrip her of every thing ſhe poſſeſſed. He execrated the ſhame⯑leſs ſycophancy of this conduct, that like ſome of the mon⯑ſters of India, cringed to its prey, and fawned on the objects of its vengeance. In going over theſe private letters, he came to that from Mr. Middleton, which the Council for the pri⯑ſoner had been anxious to have read to the end, in order to publiſh an anecdote which they thought would do ſomething towards ſupporting the character of Mr. Middleton. It con⯑tained ſome expreſſions of earneſt and anxious ſolicitude for the recovery of a beloved ſon—and which they meant to in⯑ſinuate, were indications of feeling, and of his ſenſe of the nature of the relative duty and affection which ſubſiſted be⯑tween the parent and the child. How fortunate they had [50] been in their deſire of having this anecdote heard, he knew not—He confeſſed he thought it did not tend to raiſe the cha⯑racter of Mr. Middleton—but on the contrary, it operated very much to his prejudice. It would not be imputed to him, that ſpeaking abſtractedly, he conſidered the trait of parental tenderneſs as a degrading feature in the human heart. Their Lordſhips knew well the force of the ſoft and endear⯑ing relation which ſubſiſted between parent and child; but ſurely it would not be ſaid, that the circumſtance brought to their Lordſhips view by the Counſel, of the fact of Mr. Middleton's having this ſentiment and feeling in his boſom was therefore intitled to commendation, when with the feel⯑ing in his own boſom he was outraging it in others. Was it not an aggravation of his guilt, that he who felt the ardent ſolicitude of a parent, and who conſequently muſt be ſenſible of the reciprocal feelings of a child, could bring himſelf to tear aſunder, and to violate all thoſe dear and ſacred bonds! Did it not enhance his guilt, that his cruelty was not the re⯑ſult of ideotic ignorance, or of ſavage barbarity?—That he whoſe ſoul was thus ſenſible to the impreſſions of tenderneſs and love, ſhould be ſo abandoned as to ſacrifice thoſe feelings to the inhuman will of the tyrant whom he ſerved. He aver⯑red that it increaſed and magnified his guilt. He would have been leſs criminal had he been inſenſible of tenderneſs—leſs criminal if he had not been ſo thoroughly acquainted with the true quality of parental love and filial duty. [Here Mr. Sheridan gave a picture of filial duty, which, as a piece of chaſte and beautiful painting in language, we know not where to equal, and which we are utterly unable to copy.]

Filial duty, he ſaid, it was impoſſible by words to deſcribe, but deſcription by words was unneceſſary. It was that duty which they all felt and underſtood, and which required not the powers of language to explain. It was in truth more properly to be called a principle than a duty. It required not the aid of memory—it needed not the exerciſe of the un⯑derſtanding —it awaited not the ſlow deliberations of reaſon⯑ing. [51] —It flowed ſpontaneouſly from the fountain of our feel⯑ings. —It was involuntary in our natures.—It was a quality of our being, innate, and coeval with life, which though af⯑terwards cheriſhed as a paſſion was independent of our men⯑tal powers.—It was earlier than all intelligence in our ſouls. —It diſplayed itſelf in the earlieſt impulſes of the heart, and was an emotion of fondneſs that returned in ſmiles of grati⯑tude the affectionate ſolicitude—the tender anxieties—the endearing attentions experienced before memory began, but which were not leſs dear for not being remembered.—It was the ſacrament of nature in our hearts, by which the union of parent and child was ſealed and rendered perfect in the community of love, and which, ſtrengthening and ripening with life, acquired vigour from the underſtanding, and was moſt lively and active when moſt wanted—when thoſe who had ſupported infancy were ſinking into age, and when in⯑firmity and decrepitude found their beſt ſolace in the affecti⯑ons of the children they had reared—But he was aſhamed to take up ſo much of their Lordſhips time in attempting to give a cold picture of filial duty, when he ſaw ſo many breathing teſtimonies in the aſſembly that ſurrounded him— and when he ſaw every feature of that aſſembly beaming and erecting itſelf in confeſſion of the univerſal principle.

The manner of diſpoſing of the goods violently ſeized from the unfortunate Princeſſes, their jewels; their wearing appa⯑rel, their furniture even to their table utenſils, though in ſig⯑nificant objects when compared with other circumſtances of their unhappy ſituation, was marked with injuſtice and op⯑preſſion. —They were ſold, or at leaſt put up to ſale, by auc⯑tion —a pretended ſale, where there were no bidders, who had not previouſly agreed on what they ſhould purchaſe, and how much they ſhould pay for dividing the ſpoil. This the Begum herſelf lamented in very affecting terms, in a repre⯑ſentation to Mr. Middleton, when ſhe ſays that ſhe finds, from woeful experience, that even bullion, gold, and jewels, loſe their value the moment it is known they come from her. [52] But the rapacity of Middleton did not ſtop there, for after having thus fraudulently diſpoſed of the goods, a new claim was made for the deficiency, and new cruelties were perpe⯑trated to enforce the payment of a ſum which did not con⯑ſtitute a part of the original fine. Attempts were made to find out new crimes and new debts due by the Nabob to the Company, though he had already offended to the amount of 600,000l. Mr. Haſtings writes to Mr. Middleton not to come to a final ſettlement with the Nabob till he ſhould con⯑ſult his CASH-BOOK, which was the faithful record of the crimes of their allies, and in which he had already diſcovered 260,000l. worth of treaſon, that no perſon had ever before dreamed of. He accuſes by the Multiplication Table, tries by the Rule of Three, and condemns, not by the ſublime inſtitute of Timur, or the ſimple maxims of Engliſh juriſ⯑prudence, but by the unerring rules of Cocker's Arithmetic. —He then proceeded to animadvert on the teſtimony of Major Scott, whom he called the incomparable agent of Mr. Haſtings. He had come to the bar, and ſaid, that though the Defence of Mr. Haſtings had not been drawn up by himſelf, yet there was one paragraph which he (Mr. Haſtings) had written with his own proper hand. That pa⯑ragraph was avowing the reſumption of the Jaghires, and averring it to be conſiſtent with the dictates of humanity, policy, and juſtice. "Give me the pen, ſaid Mr. Haſtings; "I will defend the meaſure as juſt and neceſſary. Do you find memory, I will find character!" And thus the twin warriors came into the field, each in his proper ſphere of action, and armed for either purpoſe. Such had been the daring and unbluſhing defence of Mr. Haſtings, for the commiſſion of an act, on which their Lordſhips could have but one opinion. That it was not conſiſtent with the dic⯑tates of juſtice, he appealed to thoſe whoſe peculiar province it was to adminiſter juſtice. Thoſe of your Lordſhips, ſaid be, who have been diſtinguiſhed as Stateſmen, will ſpurn at the idea of its being a meaſure that can be juſtified on the [53] principles of good policy; and that it is not to be defended by the laws of humanity, he would appeal to that venerable part of the auguſt tribunal who heard him—they who had ever proved themſelves the diſtinguiſhed advocates of reli⯑gion and truth.

He now came to the recital of the cruelties perpetrated by the agents of Mr. Haſtings, which he pledged himſelf to bring home to the bold culprit at the bar. The firſt act of their tyranny was the impriſonment of the Miniſters of the Begums, who were perſons of conſiderable eminence and diſtinction in that country, and who had enjoyed much of the confidence and favour of the late Nabob. Not ſatisfied with this, they were loaded with irons, and ſuffered the combined horrors of want, impriſonment, and ignominy; but what aggravated the ſcandalous injuſtice of this meaſure was, that they had ſuffered without even the formality of an enquiry, while that arch traitor, Shumſhaw Cawn, though accuſed of diſaffection to the Engliſh Government, was ſuf⯑fered to go about without notice; he had been ſo much neglected by thoſe in power that he had not even been com⯑plimented with fetters, the uſual badge of diſtinction, which it was the practice to beſtow on opulent traitors.—To his poverty he owed his protection.—The unfortunate Miniſters of the Begums not having yet ſatisfied the rapacity of theſe plunderers, were ordered to Chunar, where the Engliſh flag was flying as the ſignal of oppreſſion, there to have corporal puniſhment inflicted on them, and one of them actually ſuf⯑fered it, to the diſgrace of the honour, the juſtice, and hu⯑manity of the Britiſh nation. What muſt have been the feelings of the Britiſh officers upon that occaſion, he muſt leave thoſe to ſay who were preſent. To Major Gilpin he gave much praiſe, not only for the candid evidence he gave at the bar; but for his humane endeavour to alleviate the ſufferings of the unhappy women, for they were the next objects of Mr. Middleton's humanity. The conduct of Mr. Johnſon was of a different kind, though he certainly had [54] ſome claim to praiſe from his forbearance—he very humanely writes to Middleton that he did not think it would be worth while to put to death 2000 women and children for the pur⯑poſe of enforcing prompt payment of their demands; but actuated by the fear of the dreadful reſponſibility under which Mr. Haſtings had placed all his agents, they pro⯑ceeded to carry his orders into execution, and took poſſeſſion of the Palace. The ſufferings of the women were patheti⯑cally deſcribed by Major Gilpin. In a letter dated the 30th October, 1782, he writes as follows:—‘Laſt night, about eight o'clock, the women in the Khord Mohul, (Leſſer Palace) or Zenana, (womens apartment under the charge of Latafut Ally Khan) aſſembled on the tops of the build⯑ings, crying in a moſt lamentable manner for food; that for the laſt four days they had got but a very ſcanty allow⯑ance, and that yeſterday they had got none. The melan⯑choly cries of famine are more eaſily imagined than deſcribed.—’After ſuch a deſcription of calamity, he ſaid, he would not treſpaſs on the feelings of their Lordſhips by any comments on it. Their indignation againſt the author of thoſe calamities rendered any further obſervations on that ſubject unneceſſary. It was now for him to prove that Mr. Haſtings was reſponſible for the actions of his agents. That he was reſponſible for the Treaty of Chunar, he believed, would ſcarcely be diſputed—though Mr. Mid⯑dleton had on the laſt day of his examination refuſed to anſwer ſome queſtions on that ſubject, leſt it might criminate himſelf. With an avarice for infamy, and an anxious deſire of monopolizing guilt, Mr. Middleton, when queſ⯑tioned about his conduct at Fyzabad, had anſwered that he alone was to blame, for Mr. Haſtings had written an angry letter to him, diſapproving of what he had done; but what, ſaid he, will be your Lordſhips aſtoniſhment, when you are told that this letter from Mr. Haſtings contained a gentle reproach to Mr. Middleton, not for his want of humanity, but for his lenity! Such was his anxiety to court infamy, [55] and to ſolicit guilt, that he ſcrupled not to encounter igno⯑miny when he might have claimed praiſe!

Mr. Haſtings had urged in his defence, that as he was not privy to the actions, he could not be reſponſible for the guilt. This was not true. Mr. Haſtings well knew what was going forward, though, perhaps, he might be unac⯑quainted with the miſerable detail. When a perſon in authority deſires another to do an illegal act, he certainly is, to all intents and purpoſes, anſwerable for the conſequences. He becomes the principal in the crime, though he might not be the actual perpetrator of it, and is conſidered, by every principle of natural law and natural reaſon, as the firſt object of puniſhment. What were the orders given by Mr. Haſt⯑ings? They were peremptory—and it is proved by Middleton himſelf, that he could not have carried them into execution by any other means than thoſe which had been adopted. Would any man then be hardy enough to aſſert, that Mr. Haſtings was not in this inſtance anſwerable for the act of his agent? The communications of Mr. Haſtings and Mr. Mid⯑dleton had been frequent and uninterrupted; though he muſt ſay they were more like the ſecret machinations of a banditti in a cavern, plotting the deſtruction of ſome innocent family. than the deliberations of Britiſh Repreſentatives in India.

Mr. Middleton, however, had at leaſt ſome regard to decorum on particular occaſions, for, in anſwer to Mr. Haſtings's letter, accuſing him of lenity and forbearance in the execution of his orders, he anſwers, "That the Nabob was ſon to the Begum whom we were to proceed againſt; —a ſon againſt his mother muſt at leaſt ſave appearances in his mode of proceeding." But Mr. Haſtings all along pretends complete ignorance of the cruelties that were perpe⯑trated, that is, he was ignorant of the exact number of laſhes which were inflected, and the preciſe weight of the iron which formed the fetters.—Such was the miſerable ſophiſtry by which he defended himſelf, though his guilt [56] was the ſame as if he had with his own hand inflicted the puniſhment.

He then took notice of that part of Mr. Haſtings's defence, the object of which was to criminate the reſt of the Board, or at leaſt to prove that they were equally guilty with him. Had Sir John Macpherſon then (of whoſe character he thought highly) no friend that would call him to the bar, to vindicate himſelf from ſo foul an aſperſion? Was there nobody to do juſtice to the memory of Mr. Wheeler? For his own part, he was ready to acquit the Members of the Board from any ſhare in the guilt of the black catalogue of Mr. Haſtings's crimes, though their agreeing to ſign the diſpatch to the Court of Directors, not one paragraph of which was true, was a very inexcuſable, and even a criminal credulity. After commenting with great ingenuity and force of reaſoning on the different paragraphs of the letter to the Court of Directors, with a view to prove that the whole was a fabrication, calculated ſolely to promote the views of Mr. Haſtings, he ſaid, he was convinced that Sir John Macpherſon was now aſhamed of his credulity, and would be glad of an opportunity of vindicating himſelf from the imputed guilt, of which Mr. Haſtings had been anxious to give to the Board more than fell to their ſhare.

The tyranny of Mr. Haſtings, he ſaid, was not to be reconciled to the common rules, nor could it be judged of by the common ſtandard of tyrants. The atrocious cruelties of a Nero and a Caligula might be aſcribed to the impetu⯑oſity of paſſions inflamed to madneſs, which knew no check, and which felt no correction. In their delirious career, they ſuffered no reflection to intervene, and they knew of no re⯑ſponſibility —they had no interval of remorſe, no feeling of equality—they were born to rule, and they conſidered their ſubjects as creatures over whom they had a right to domineer. That ſuch men, with turbulent, head-ſtrong paſſions, ſhould be tyrants, was not ſo wonderful as it was melancholy. But how different was the caſe of Mr. Haſtings. He was a cool-thinking, [57] deliberate tyrant. Born to no rule—entitled to no ſuperiority—accuſtomed to converſe, to act, and to live with his equals—bred in mercantile habits, which forced him to eſtimate on every meaſure—and entruſted by a mer⯑cantile Company with a government which was to be carried on by mercantile principles—Bound to give a faithful ac⯑count of every tranſaction—and to expoſe not only the mea⯑ſure itſelf, but the motives that led to it—Who could never go to bed without diſcharging this duty—without balancing the tranſactions of the day—and reconciling his acts to juſtice and policy—Who held up, as it were, a glaſs rightly to his own conſcience, and was bound to purge it. That ſuch a man ſhould become a tyrant, militated againſt every rational principle of man.—Yet here we ſaw the monſter—a philoſo⯑phical tyrant—a cool, deliberate, reaſoning tyrant—who violated the rights of man, with a perfect conſciouſneſs of what thoſe rights were—and who, endowed with the know⯑ledge of the equal rank, as to freedom, granted by the Deity to human kind, arraigned the wiſdom of Providence, by oppoſing its diſpenſations in favour of his ſpecies. A tyrant againſt man was a libeller of God—and the Court beheld in the priſoner a creature who had preſumed to deface and diſ⯑order the beauty and harmony of that ſyſtem which was originally granted by Heaven for the happineſs of the earth.

Mr. Sheridan now drew to his concluſion. He ſaid, their Lordſhips would not be ſurprized, if, after all that they had heard, he ſhould think the cauſe for which he ſtood up per⯑fectly ſafe, if he called on them to diſcharge from their minds all that they had heard of mere language, and only to attend to facts. A ſtrict examination of the evidence would ſo fully and thoroughly convince them of the turpi⯑tude of the priſoner, that he wiſhed to place the whole cauſe on that ſingle ground, unornamented by eloquence, and unaſſiſted by reaſoning. One only paſſage more he ſhould take notice of.—Mr. Haſtings, in the moment when he [58] ſtifled the pretended enquiry into the atrocious acts com⯑mitted under his own authority, entered a minute of the moſt remarkable kind:—‘If we cannot heal, let us not inflame the wounds which have been inflicted. If the Begums think themſelves aggrieved to ſuch a degree as to juſtify them in an appeal to a foreign juriſdiction,—’ ſpeaking of wounds inflicted by his own poſitive orders—and talking of a foreign juriſdiction, as if Sir Elijah Impey's Court at Lucknow had not been a foreign juriſdiction,—‘let us at leaſt permit them to be the judges of their own feelings, and prefer their complaints before we offer to redreſs them.—’But now came the magnificent paragraph, to which he requeſted their Lordſhips attention:—‘I hope I ſhall not depart from the ſimplicity of official language, in ſaying, the majeſty of Juſtice ought to be approached with ſolicitation, not deſcend to provoke or invite it, much leſs to debaſe itſelf by the ſuggeſtion of wrongs, and the promiſe of redreſs, with the denunciation of pu⯑niſhments, before trial, and even before accuſation.—’ This ſtrutting and pompous apology for not liſtening to the voice of real juſtice and mercy, he was very much ſurpriſed to find had met the approbation of Sir John Macpherſon, of whoſe good ſenſe and underſtanding he had heard a good report, but who, by the minute which he added, proved that he had not ſtudied and corrected his taſte for the ſub⯑lime and beautiful from the immortal leader of this proſe⯑cution. If he dad done ſo, he would have felt and treated this paſſage as it deſerved—as a piece of bombaſtic jargon, unworthy of the ſober approbation of the underſtanding. The Majeſty of Juſtice, in the eyes of Mr. Haſtings, was a being of terrific horror—a dreadful idol placed in the gloom of graves, acceſſible only to cringing ſupplication, and which muſt be approached with offerings, and worſhipped by ſacrifice. The majeſty of Mr. Haſtings was a being whoſe decrees were written with blood, and whoſe oracles were at once obſcure and terrible. From ſuch an idol (ex⯑claims [59] Mr. Sheridan) I turn my eyes with horror—I turn them here to this dignified and high tribunal, where the Majeſty of Juſtice really ſits enthroned.—Here I perceive the Majeſty of Juſtice in her proper robes of truth and mercy—chaſte and ſimple—acceſſible and patient—awful without ſeverity—inquiſitive without meanneſs.—I ſee her enthroned and ſitting in judgment on a great and momentous cauſe, in which the happineſs of millions is involved.— Pardon me, my Lords, if I preſume to ſay, that in the de⯑ciſion of this great cauſe you are to be envied, as well as venerated. You poſſeſs the higheſt diſtinction of the human character; for when you render your ultimate voice on this cauſe, illuſtrating the dignity of the anceſtors from whom you ſpring—juſtifying the ſolemn aſſeveration which you make—vindicating the people of whom you are a part—and manifeſting the intelligence of the times in which you live— you will do ſuch an act of mercy and bleſſing to man, as no men but yourſelves are able to grant.

My Lords, I have done!