Complete Works of Edmund Burke

by Edmund Burke

  [The entry of the several species in which this deposit was made was here read from the Company’s General Journal of 1780 and 1781.]

  My Lords, when this account appears at last, when this money does emerge in the public accounts, whose is it? Is it the Company’s? No: Mr. Hastings’s. And thus, if, notwithstanding this obscure account in November, the Directors had claimed and called for this affinity to an anecdote, — if they had called for this anecdote and examined the account, — if they had said, “We observe here entered two lac and upwards; come, Mr. Hastings, let us see where this money is,” — they would find that it is Mr. Hastings’s money, not the Company’s; they would find that it is carried to his credit. In this manner he hands over this sum, telling them, on the 22d of May, 1782, that not only the bonds were a fraud, but the deposit was a fraud, and that neither bonds nor deposit did in reality belong to him. Why did he enter it at all? Then, afterwards, why did he not enter it as the Company’s? Why make a false entry, to enter it as his own? And how came he, two years after, when he does tell you that it was the Company’s and not his own, to alter the public accounts? But why did he not tell them at that time, when he pretends to be opening his breast to the Directors, from whom he received it, or say anything to give light to the Company respecting it? who, supposing they had the power of dispensing with an act of Parliament, or licensing bribery at their pleasure, might have been thereby enabled to say, “Here you ought to have received it, — there it might be oppressive and of dreadful example.”

  I have only to state, that, in this letter, which was pretended to be written on the 22d of May, 1782, your Lordships will observe that he thinks it his absolute duty (and I wish to press this upon your Lordships, because it will be necessary in a comparison which I shall have hereafter to make) to lay open all their affairs to them, to give them a full and candid explanation of his conduct, which he afterwards confesses he is not able to do. The paragraph has been just read to you. It amounts to this: “I have taken many bribes, — have falsified your accounts, — have reversed the principle of them in my own favor; I now discover to you all these my frauds, and think myself entitled to your confidence upon this occasion.” Now all the principles of diffidence, all the principles of distrust, nay, more, all the principles upon which a man may be convicted of premeditated fraud, and deserve the severest punishment, are to be found in this case, in which he says he holds himself to be entitled to their confidence and trust. If any of your Lordships had a steward who told you he had lent you your own money, and had taken bonds from you for it, and if he afterwards told you that that money was neither yours nor his, but extorted from your tenants by some scandalous means, I should be glad to know what your Lordships would think of such a steward, who should say, “I will take the freedom to add, that I think myself, on such a subject, on such an occasion, entitled to your confidence and trust.” You will observe his cavalier mode of expression. Instead of his exhibiting the rigor and severity of an accountant and a book-keeper, you would think that he had been a reader of sentimental letters; there is such an air of a novel running through the whole, that it adds to the ridicule and nausea of it: it is an oxymel of squills; there is something to strike you with horror for the villany of it, something to strike you with contempt for the fraud of it, and something to strike you with utter disgust for the vile and bad taste with which all these base ingredients are assorted.

  Your Lordships will see, when the account which is subjoined to this unaccountable letter comes before you, that, though the Company had desired to know the channels through which he got those sums, there is not (except by a reference that appears in another place to one of the articles) one single syllable of explanation given from one end to the other, there is not the least glimpse of light thrown upon these transactions. But we have since discovered from whom he got these bribes; and your Lordships will be struck with horror, when you hear it.

  I have already remarked to you, that, though this letter is dated upon the 22d of May, it was not dispatched for Europe till December following; and he gets Mr. Larkins, who was his agent and instrument in falsifying the Company’s accounts, to swear that this letter was written upon the 22d of May, and that he had no opportunity to send it, but by the “Lively” in December. On the 16th of that month he writes to the Directors, and tells them that he is quite shocked to find he had no earlier opportunity of making this discovery, which he thought himself bound to make; though this discovery, respecting some articles of it, had now been delayed nearly two years, and though it since appears that there were many opportunities, and particularly by the “Resolution,” of sending it. He was much distressed, and found himself in an awkward situation, from an apprehension that the Parliamentary inquiry, which he knew was at this time in progress, might have forced from him this notable discovery. He says, “I do not fear the consequences of any Parliamentary process.” Indeed, he needed not to fear any Parliamentary inquiry, if it produced no further discovery than that which your Lordships have in the letter of the 22d of May, and in the accounts subjoined to it. He says, that “the delay is of no public consequence; but it has produced a situation which, with respect to myself, I regard as unfortunate, because it exposes me to the meanest imputation, from the occasion which the late Parliamentary inquiries have since furnished.”

  Now here is a very curious letter, that I wish to have read for some other reasons, which will afterwards appear, but principally at present for the purpose of showing you that he held it to be his duty and thought it to the last degree dishonorable not to give the Company an account of those secret bribes: he thought it would reflect upon him, and ruin his character forever, if this account did not come voluntarily from him, but was extorted by terror of Parliamentary inquiry. In this letter of the 16th December, 1782, he thus writes.

  “The delay is of no public consequence, but it has produced a situation which, with respect to myself, I regard as unfortunate; because it exposes me to the meanest imputation, from the occasion which the late Parliamentary inquiries have since furnished, but which were unknown when my letter was written, and written in the necessary consequence of a promise made to that effect in a former letter to your Honorable Committee, dated 20th January last. However, to preclude the possibility of such reflections from affecting me, I have desired Mr. Larkins, who was privy to the whole transaction, to affix to the letter his affidavit of the date in which it was written. I own I feel most sensibly the mortification of being reduced to the necessity of using such precautions to guard my reputation from dishonor. If I had at any time possessed that degree of confidence from my immediate employers which they never withheld from the meanest of my predecessors, I should have disdained to use these attentions. How I have drawn on me a different treatment I know not; it is sufficient that I have not merited it. And in the course of a service of thirty-two years, and ten of these employed in maintaining the powers and discharging the duties of the first office of the British government in India, that honorable court ought to know whether I possess the integrity and honor which are the first requisites of such a station. If I wanted these, they have afforded me but too powerful incentives to suppress the information which I now convey to them through you, and to appropriate to my own use the sums which I have already passed to their credit, by the unworthy and, pardon me, if I add, dangerous, reflections which they have passed upon me for the first communication of this kind: and your own experience will suggest to you, that there are persons who would profit by such a warning.

  “Upon the whole of these transactions, which to you, who are accustomed to view business in an official and regular light, may appear unprecedented, if not improper, I have but a few short remarks to suggest to your consideration.

  “If I appear in any unfavorable light by these transactions, I resign the common and legal security of those who commit crimes or errors. I am ready to answer every particular question that may be put against myself, upon honor or upon oath.

  �
�The sources from which these reliefs to the public service have come would never have yielded them to the Company publicly; and the exigencies of your service (exigencies created by the exposition of your affairs, and faction in your councils) required those supplies.

  “I could have concealed them, had I had a wrong motive, from yours and the public eye forever; and I know that the difficulties to which a spirit of injustice may subject me for my candor and avowal are greater than any possible inconvenience that could have attended the concealment, except the dissatisfaction of my own mind. These difficulties are but a few of those which I have suffered in your service. The applause of my own breast is my surest reward, and was the support of my mind in meeting them. Your applause, and that of my country, are my next wish in life.”

  Your Lordships will observe at the end of this letter, that this man declares his first applause to be from his own breast, and that he next wishes to have the applause of his employers. But reversing this, and taking their applause first, let us see on what does he ground his hope of their applause? Was it on his former conduct? No: for he says that conduct had repeatedly met with their disapprobation. Was it upon the confidence which he knew they had in him? No: for he says they gave more of their confidence to the meanest of his predecessors. Observe, my Lords, the style of insolence he constantly uses with regard to all mankind. Lord Clive was his predecessor, Governor Cartier was his predecessor, Governor Verelst was his predecessor: every man of them as good as himself: and yet he says the Directors had given “more of their confidence to the meanest of his predecessors.” But what was to entitle him to their applause? A clear and full explanation of the bribes he had taken. Bribes was to be the foundation of their confidence in him, and the clear explanation of them was to entitle him to their applause! Strange grounds to build confidence upon! — the rotten ground of corruption, accompanied with the infamy of its avowal! Strange ground to expect applause! — a discovery which was no discovery at all! Your Lordships have heard this discovery, which I have not taken upon me to state, but have read his own letter on the occasion. Has there, at this moment, any light broken in upon you concerning this matter?

  But what does he say to the Directors? He says, “Upon the whole of these transactions, which to you, who are accustomed to view business in an official and regular light, may appear unprecedented, if not improper, I have but a few short remarks to suggest to your consideration.” He looks upon them and treats them as a set of low mechanical men, a set of low-born book-keepers, as base souls, who in an account call for explanation and precision. If there is no precision in accounts, there is nothing of worth in them. You see he himself is an eccentric accountant, a Pindaric book-keeper, an arithmetician in the clouds. “I know,” he says, “what the Directors desire: but they are mean people; they are not of elevated sentiments; they are modest; they avoid ostentation in taking of bribes: I therefore am playing cups and balls with them, letting them see a little glimpse of the bribes, then carrying them fairly away.” Upon this he founds the applause of his own breast.

  Populus me sibilat; at mihi plaudo

  Ipse domi, simul ac nummos contemplor in arca.

  That private ipse plaudo he may have in this business, which is a business of money; but the applause of no other human creature will he have for giving such an account as he admits this to be, — irregular, uncertain, problematical, and of which no one can make either head or tail. He despises us also, who are representatives of the people, and have amongst us all the regular officers of finance, for expecting anything like a regular account from him. He is hurt at it; he considers it as a cruel treatment of him; he says, “Have I deserved this treatment?” Observe, my Lords, he had met with no treatment, if treatment it may be called, from us, of the kind of which he complains. The Court of Directors had, however, in a way shameful, abject, low, and pusillanimous, begged of him, as if they were his dependants, and not his masters, to give them some light into the account; they desire a receiver of money to tell from whom he received it, and how he applied it. He answers, They may be hanged for a parcel of mean, contemptible book-keepers, and that he will give them no account at all. He says, “If you sue me” — There is the point: he always takes security in a court of law. He considers his being called upon by these people, to whom he ought as a faithful servant to give an account, and to do which he was bound by an act of Parliament specially intrusting him with the administration of the revenues, as a gross affront. He adds, that he is ready to resign his defence, and to answer upon honor or upon oath. Answering upon honor is a strange way they have got in India, as your Lordships may see in the course of this inquiry. But he forgets, that, being the Company’s servant, the Company may bring a bill in Chancery against him, and force him upon oath to give an account. He has not, however, given them light enough or afforded them sufficient ground for a fishing bill in Chancery. Yet he says, “If you call upon me in a Chancery way, or by Common Law, I really will abdicate all forms, and give you some account.” In consequence of this the Company did demand from him an account, regularly, and as fully and formally as if they had demanded it in a court of justice. He positively refused to give them any account whatever; and they have never, to this very day in which we speak, had any account that is at all clear or satisfactory. Your Lordships will see, as I go through this scene of fraud, falsification, iniquity, and prevarication, that, in defiance of his promise, which promise they quote upon him over and over again, he has never given them any account of this matter.

  He goes on to say (and the threat is indeed alarming) that by calling him to account they may provoke him — to what? “To appropriate,” he says, “to my own use the sums which I have already passed to your credit, by the unworthy and, pardon me, if I add, dangerous, reflections which you have passed upon me for the first communication of this kind.” They passed no reflections: they said they would neither praise nor blame him, but pressed him for an account of a matter which they could not understand: and I believe your Lordships understand it no more than they, for it is not in the compass of human understanding to conceive or comprehend it. Instead of an account of it, he dares to threaten them: “I may be tempted, if you should provoke me, not to be an honest man, — to falsify your account a second time, and to reclaim those sums which I have passed to your credit, — to alter the account again, by the assistance of Mr. Larkins.” What a dreadful declaration is this of his dominion over the public accounts, and of his power of altering them! a declaration, that, having first falsified those accounts in order to deceive them, and afterwards having told them of this falsification in order to gain credit with them, if they provoke him, he shall take back the money he had carried to their account, and make them his debtors for it! He fairly avows the dominion he has over the Company’s accounts; and therefore, when he shall hereafter plead the accounts, we shall be able to rebut that evidence, and say, “The Company’s accounts are corrupted by you, through your agent, Mr. Larkins; and we give no credit to them, because you not only told the Company you could do so, but we can prove that you have actually done it.” What a strange medley of evasion, pretended discovery, real concealment, fraud, and prevarication appears in every part of this letter!

  But admitting this letter to have been written upon the 22d of May, and kept back to the 16th of December, you would imagine that during all that interval of time he would have prepared himself to give some light, some illustration of these dark and mysterious transactions, which carried fraud upon the very face of them. Did he do so? Not at all. Upon the 16th of December, instead of giving them some such clear accounts as might have been expected, he falls into a violent passion for their expecting them; he tells them it would be dangerous; and he tells them they knew who had profited by these transactions: thus, in order to strike terror into their breasts, hinting at some frauds which they had practised or protected. What weight this may have had with them I know not; but your Lordships will expect in vain, that Mr. Hastings, after giving four
accounts, if any one of which is true, the other three must necessarily be false, — after having thrown the Company’s accounts into confusion, and being unable to tell, as he says himself, why he did so, — will at last give some satisfaction to the Directors, who continued, in a humble, meek way, giving him hints that he ought to do it. — You have heard nothing yet but the consequences of their refusing to give him the present of a hundred thousand pounds, which he had taken from the Nabob. They did right to refuse it to him; they did wrong to take it to themselves.

  We now find Mr. Hastings on the river Ganges, in September, 1784, — that Ganges whose purifying water expiates so many sins of the Gentoos, and which, one would think, would have washed Mr. Hastings’s hands a little clean of bribery, and would have rolled down its golden sands like another Pactolus. Here we find him discovering another of his bribes. This was a bribe taken upon totally a different principle, according to his own avowal: it is a bribe not pretended to be received for the use of the Company, — a bribe taken absolutely entirely for himself. He tells them that he had taken between thirty and forty thousand pounds. This bribe, which, like the former, he had taken without right, he tells them that he intends to apply to his own purposes, and he insists upon their sanction for so doing. He says, he had in vain, upon a former occasion, appealed to their honor, liberality, and generosity, — that he now appeals to their justice; and insists upon their decreeing this bribe — which he had taken without telling them from whom, where, or on what account — to his own use.

  Your Lordships remember, that in the letter which he wrote from Patna, on the 20th of January, 1782, he there states that he was in tolerable good circumstances, and that this had arisen from his having continued long in their service. Now, he has continued two years longer in their service, and he is reduced to beggary! “This,” he says, “is a single example of a life spent in the accumulation of crores for your benefit, and doomed in its close to suffer the extremity of private want, and to sink in obscurity.”