in India had gone through strange entanglements and momentous crises. In May, 1765, Lord Clive sailed up the Húglí as Governor and Commander-in-Chief at Fort William. By that time Carnac had driven the Maráthás back across the Jumna and compelled the ruler of Oudh to sue for peace on terms dictated by his conquerors. By a treaty concluded with Clive himself, Shujá agreed to pay a fine of half a million sterling to the Company, to grant the Company's servants free trade throughout his dominions, and to hand over to his liege lord Sháh Alam the districts of Kora and Allahábád. In return for these districts, and a yearly tribute of twenty-six lakhs from Bengal, the exiled Emperor bestowed, by grant, upon his English friends the Díwání or virtual government of Bengal, Behar, and Orissa, a territory twice as large and populous as the British Islands, and yielding a revenue of three million pounds.
By this stroke of policy the Company practically disguised the true extent of their territorial greatness, under cover of the powers implied in a legal document signed by the titular head of a disembodied Empire. From the day when Mír Jafar was first seated on the masnad of Bengal, the sceptre of government had passed into their hands. But the Imperial Farmán might serve for a time to mask the transformation of a mere trading company into a great political power. A puppet sovereign might still hold his court at Murshidábád and pretend to administer justice through his own officers, while the Company's troops kept
