'The pen is mightier than the sword'

If Clive's many talents included the gift of prophecy, would he still have opted for the sword rather than the pen? Had he persevered in his desk job, he could have returned to England with enough savings for a comfortable if also anonymous life. He would possibly have lived longer, would not have died by his own hand and buried almost clandestinely under a church. On the other hand his descendants would not have been peers and he would not have become even a footnote person of history let alone one of the creators of a mighty empire. A difficult question therefore.

Not too many swashbuckling films seem to be made these days. The heroes of adventure films are more of the Rambo variety than like Robin Hood of old; they fire automatic weapons rather than wield the sword. Swashbuckling films depicted a romanticized and escapist version of the feudal age in the West. Heroes were handsome, men of honour and exceptionally skilled at swordplay. Errol Flynn was perhaps as handsome, debonair and popular as any actor who ever "buckled a swash." His Robin Hood made in the 1930s does not seem dated when seen even today.

Duels were part of a code of honour. If someone's honour was impugned, he could challenge the offender to a duel. The choice of weapons -- usually pistols or swords -- was the prerogative of the person challenged. Honour was vindicated after first blood was drawn or even if pistols were simply fired into space. The process, of course, was not always simple or innocuous.

One of the most gifted personalities of the early days of the American revolution was Alexander Hamilton. He was one of the authors of the Federalist Papers, the first Secretary of the Treasury and also close to George Washington. But for the fact that he lost his life in a senseless duel, it is conceivable that he might even have made it to the Presidency. The person who shot him dead, after Hamilton had fired his shot in the air, was also a political figure, whose name today is synonymous with unbridled ambition.

The greatest of US Presidents, Abraham Lincoln, was an auto-didact with a singular feel for language. He wrote and delivered two or three of the most uplifting, edifying and enduring of speeches in the English language. He was very much a man of the "pen" and not the "sword." And yet in his youth, he once came close to fighting a duel to the death. In 1842, using his formidable writing skills, Lincoln lampooned a somewhat vain politician by the name of James Shields in a letter to a newspaper. The town of Springfield, where the paper was published, was immensely amused, but a thoroughly incensed Shields was not. He demanded satisfaction and challenged Lincoln to a duel. A reluctant Lincoln chose the cavalry broad sword as weapon and even took lessons from a West Point graduate. On the scheduled day the duellists met and were prepared to fight to the death when better sense prevailed; their seconds intervened -- something no doubt consistent with the somewhat quaint code of honour -- to stop the duel. Lincoln reportedly never ridiculed anyone and almost "never criticized anybody" from that time.

Robert Lord Clive of Plassey is believed to have fought a duel in India.Like Lincoln, he was largely self-taught and tended to melancholy at times. An eminent educationist of Bangladesh, whom I shall call Professor X, once recounted to me an anecdote which is expressive of how people of this region tend to regard Clive. Professor X had gone to London for the first time for higher studies and happened upon a statue of Clive at or near Whitehall. The statue was impressive, with Clive in a lordly and supercilious pose. Professor X, a man of puckish humour and an immense sense of humanity, looked round to assure himself that no one was paying attention and then planted a firm kick at the bottom of the statue before moving serenely on!

Clive was one of those who gave up the pen for the sword. He had gone to India for the first time at the impressionable age of 18 as a clerk in the employ of the English East India Company. His exploits in the struggle with the French for supremacy in India is well-known. With a small fortune he left India for England in 1753 only to return soon with enhanced authority and status. After Plassey -- more a cannonade than a battle -- his fame and future were assured. He went on to lay the foundations of British rule in the sub-continent. While consolidating English authority he did not exactly ignore his own interests. By the time his second governorship ended and he left permanently for England, he had amassed a fortune estimated to be in the neighbourhood of a quarter of a million Pounds and also acquired a jagir worth Pounds 30,000 annually. In between his tours of duty he had been given an Irish barony and a knighthood. On his final return home he acquired a pocket borough in Shrewsbury from where he was elected to Parliament. His ambitions for a career in politics in England foundered amidst allegations of corruption. He faced a Parliamentary Inquiry with characteristic verve and panache. At one point he exclaimed "By God, Mr Chairman, at this moment, I stand astonished at my own moderation!" Parliament did not quite absolve him of all wrong-doing but conceded that he did "render great and meritorious services to his country." William Pitt described him as a "heaven born general."

Historians of the sub-continent have been remarkably generous in assessing the man. Some scholars are of the view that he was distinguished in war and peace, that he occupied a prominent place in the galaxy of British generals and administrators who carved out a mighty empire, that he possessed tact, patience, industry and foresight, had a steady and clear grasp of the ends, and combined high idealism with sound common sense.

By the age of 49, Clive was dead,by his own hand. Afflicted by a painful disease contracted in India, he relied increasingly on opium for relief. Wearied by attacks of his own countrymen for his venality and duplicity and plagued by ill-health, he slit his throat in London, away from Shrewsbury, using perhaps a cut-throat razor so common in those times.

On one of my early visits to the UK, a friend took me to Highgate to see Marx's tomb. It occurred to me then that it should be of interest also to see where Clive was buried; out of a sense of history more than anything else. Curiously enough, apart from the statue at Whitehall, it was not very easy to find out too much about the founder of the British Empire in India. Neither Burke's nor Debrett's, both standard volumes of reference on the peerage, made mention of any Baron of Plassey, as I would have expected Clive's descendants to be known. Neither did Dod's annual publication that listed all parliamentarians. It was Nirad C. Chaudhuri, who wrote a book on Clive, that updated me about him.His barony had been elevated to an earldom and his descendent was now known as the Earl of Powis. Clive himself was buried in the church at Shrewsbury.

In the company of a few friends I did go to Shrewsbury. A friendly curate at the church greeted us with the words "You must be from the sub-continent, only people from there still have an interest in Clive." A lady living nearby joined us.She was none too complimentary about Clive. Clive she said was believed to be the wealthiest man in England when he returned from India. His Spartan offices in Shrewsbury was still maintained as a museum of sorts, which not too many people visited however. The curate could not show us the tomb, as Clive was buried not in the cemetery near the church but under the church. He explained why. As a suicide, Clive could not be buried in consecrated grounds but he was also Shrewsbury's most distinguished son. The church authorities found an ingenious solution. Officially they had no intimation about the suicide. So affecting ignorance of that inconvenient fact they agreed on burial on church grounds. However to guard against any desecration by those who were only too aware of the facts they took the precaution to bury him beneath the church rather than in the cemetery. There was apparently some problem of access to the location of the tomb under the church and as such we could not see it.

If Clive's many talents included the gift of prophecy, would he still have opted for the sword rather than the pen? Had he persevered in his desk job, he could have returned to England with enough savings for a comfortable if also anonymous life. He would possibly have lived longer, would not have died by his own hand and buried almost clandestinely under a church. On the other hand his descendants would not have been peers and he would not have become even a footnote person of history let alone one of the creators of a mighty empire. A difficult question therefore. Clive lived at a time when adventurers abounded and flourished, people who trusted in their stars and laughed in the face of death and at superior numbers. None will know what thoughts went through his tormented mind -- and tormented he must have been to do what he did -- as he opened his cut-throat razor for the last time, not for a shave but for a grisly and unspeakable purpose.

If the lives and deeds of Clive and Lincoln and the way they are remembered today, are a pointer or afford any insights, there is much truth in the old adage that "the pen is mightier than the sword." Whether at the end of the day Clive himself believed this or not will have to remain unanswered.