by Edmund Burke
My Lords, this is the first man, I believe, that ever took credit for his sincerity from his breach of his promises. “I could not,” he says, “have made these promises, if I had not thought that I could perform them. Now I find I cannot perform them, and you have in that non-performance and in that profession a security for my sincerity when I promised them.” Upon this principle, any man who makes a promise has nothing to do afterwards, but to say that he finds himself (without assigning any particular cause for it) unable to perform it, — not only to justify himself for his non-performance, but to justify himself and claim credit for sincerity in his original profession. The charge was given him specially, and he promised obedience, over and over, upon the spot, and in the country, in which he was no novice, for he had been bred in it: it was his native country in one sense, it was the place of his renewed nativity and regeneration. Yet this very man, as if he was a novice in it, now says, “I promised you what I now find I cannot perform.” Nay, what is worse, he declares no man could perform it, if he gave up his whole time to it. And lastly, he says, that the inquiry into these corruptions, even if you succeeded in it, would do more harm than good. Now was there ever an instance of a man so basely deserting a duty, and giving so base a reason for it? His duty was to put an end to corruption in every channel of government. It cannot be done. Why? Because it would expose our affairs to malignity and enmity, and end, perhaps, to our disadvantage. Not only will he connive himself, but he advises the Company to do it. For fear of what? For fear that their service was so abandoned and corrupt, that the display of the evil would tend more to their disreputation than all their attempts to reform it would tend to their service.
Mr. Hastings should naturally have imagined that the law was a resource in this desperate case of bribery. He tells you, that in “that charge of oppression, though they were supported by the cries of the people and the most authentic representations, it is yet impossible in most cases to obtain legal proofs.” Here is a system of total despair upon the business, which I hope and believe is not a desperate one, and has not proved a desperate one, whenever a rational attempt has been made to pursue it. Here you find him corrupt, and you find, in consequence of that corruption, that he screens the whole body of corruption in India, and states an absolute despair of any possibility, by any art or address, of putting an end to it. Nay, he tells you, that, if corruption did not exist, if it was not connived at, that the India Company could not exist. Whether that be a truth or not I cannot tell; but this I know, that it is the most horrible picture that ever was made of any country. It might be said that these were excuses for omissions, — sins of omission he calls them. I will show that they were systematic, that Mr. Hastings did uniformly profess that he would connive at abuses, and contend that abuses ought to be connived at. When the whole mystery of the iniquity, in which he himself was deeply concerned, came to light, — when it appeared that all the Company’s orders were contravened, — that contracts were given directly contrary to their orders, and upon principles subversive of their government, leading to all manner of oppression and ruin to the country, — what was Mr. Hastings’s answer? “I must here remark, that the majority ... I had not the power of establishing it.” Then he goes on and states other cases of corruption, at every one of which he winks. Here he states another reason for his connivance. “Suppose again,” (for he puts another supposition, and these suppositions are not hypotheses laid down for argument, but real facts then existing before the Council examining into grievances,)— “suppose again, that any person had benefited himself ... unprofitable discussion.”
Here is a direct avowal of his refusing to examine into the conduct of persons in the Council, even in the highest departments of government, and the best paid, for fear he should dissatisfy them, and should lose their votes, by discovering those peculations and corruptions, though he perfectly knew them. Was there ever, since the world began, any man who would dare to avow such sentiments, until driven to the wall? If he could show that he himself abhorred bribes, and kept at a distance from them, then he might say, “I connive at the bribes of others”; but when he acknowledges that he takes bribes, how can you doubt that he buys a corrupt confederacy, and puts an end to any hope through him of reformation of the abuses at Bengal? But your Lordships will see that he not only connived at abuse, but patronized it and supported it for his own political purposes; since he here confesses, that, if inquiry into it created him ill-humor, and produced him an opposition in Council, he sacrificed it to the power of the Company, and the constitution of their government. Did he so? The Company ordered him to prosecute those people, and their constitution required that they should be prosecuted. “No,” says Mr. Hastings, “the conniving at it procures a majority of votes.” The very thing that he bought was not worth half the price he paid for it. He was sent to reform corruptions, and, in order that he might reform corruptions, he winked at, countenanced, and patronized them, to get a majority of votes; and what was, in fact, a sacrifice to his own interest, ambition, and corruption, he calls a sacrifice to the Company. He puts, then, this alternative: “Either give everything into my hand, suffer me to go on, and have no control, or else I wink at every species of corruption.” It is a remarkable and stupendous thing, that, when all the world was alarmed at the disorders of the Company, when that alarm occasioned his being sent out, and when, in consequence of that alarm, Parliament suspended the constitution of the Company, and appointed another government, Mr. Hastings should tell that Company that Parliament had done wrong, and that the person put at the head of that government was to wink at those abuses. Nay, what is more, not only does Mr. Hastings declare, upon general principles, that it was impossible to pursue all the delinquencies of India, and that, if possible to pursue them, mischief would happen from it, but your Lordships will observe that Mr. Hastings, in this business, during the whole period of the administration of that body which was sent out to inquire into and reform the corruptions of India, did not call one person to an account; nor, except Mr. Hastings, this day, has any one been called to an account, or punished for delinquency. Whether he will be punished or no, time will show. I have no doubt of your Lordships’ justice, and of the goodness of our cause.
The table of the House of Commons groaned under complaints of the evils growing in India under this systematic connivance of Mr. Hastings. The Directors had set on foot prosecutions, to be conducted God knows how; but, such as they were, they were their only remedy; and they began to consider at last that these prosecutions had taken a long oblivious nap of many years; and at last, knowing that they were likely, in the year 1782, to be called to a strict account about their own conduct, the Court of Directors began to rouse themselves, and they write thus: “Having in several of our letters to you very attentively perused all the proceedings referred to in these paragraphs, relative to the various forgeries on the Company’s treasuries, we lament exceedingly that the parties should have been so long in confinement without being brought to trial.”
Here, my Lords, after justice had been asleep awhile, it revived. They directed two things: first, that those suits should be pursued; but whether pursued or not, that an account of the state of them should be given, that they might give orders concerning them.
Your Lordships see the orders of the Company. Did they not want to pursue and to revive those dormant prosecutions? They want to have a state of them, that they may know how to direct the future conduct of them with more effect and vigor than they had yet been pursued with. You will naturally imagine that Mr. Hastings did not obey their orders, or obeyed them languidly. No, he took another part. He says, “Having attentively read and weighed the arguments ... for withdrawing them.”
Thus he begins with the general principle of connivance; he directly avows he does it for a political purpose; and when the Company directs he shall proceed in the suits, instead of deferring to their judgment, he takes the judgment on himself, and says theirs is untenable; he directly discharges the pr
osecutions of the Company, supersedes the authority of his masters, and gives a general release to all the persons who were still suffering by the feeble footsteps of justice in that country. He gave them an act of indemnity, and that was the last of his acts.
Now, when I show the consequence of his bribery, the presumptions that arise from his own bribes, his attention to secure others from the punishment of theirs, and, when ordered to carry on a suit, his discharging it, — when we see all this, can we avoid judging and forming our opinions upon two grand points: first, that no man would proceed in that universal patronage of guilt, unless he was guilty himself; next, that, by a universal connivance for fourteen years, he is himself the cause and mainspring of all the evils, calamities, extortion, and bribery, that have prevailed and ravaged that country for so long a time? There is, indeed, no doubt either of his guilt, or of the consequences of it, by which he has extinguished the last expiring hope and glimpse that remained of procuring a remedy for India of the evils that exist in it.
I would mention, that, as a sort of postscript, when he could no longer put the government into the hands of that infamous woman, Munny Begum, he sent an amorous, sentimental letter to the Company, describing her miserable situation, and advising the Company to give her a pension of seventy-two thousand rupees a year, to maintain her. He describes her situation in such a moving way as must melt every heart. He supposes her to be reduced to want by the cruel orders of the Company, who retain from her money which they were never obliged to give her. This representation, which he makes with as much fairness as he represents himself to be in a state of the most miserable poverty and distress, he alone made to the Company, because his colleagues would not countenance him in it; and we find, upon looking over Lord Cornwallis’s last examination into the whole state of this unhappy family, that this woman was able to lend to Mobarek ul Dowlah twenty thousand pounds. Mr. Hastings, however, could not avoid making this representation; because he knew, that, if he quitted the country without securing that woman, by giving her a hope that she could procure by his credit here that money which by his authority he had before procured for her, she might then make a discovery of all the corruption that had been carried on between them; and therefore he squanders away the treasures of the Company, in order to secure himself from any such detection, and to procure for himself razinamas and all those fine things. He knew that Munny Begum, that the whole seraglio, that all the country, whom he had put under the dominion of Sir John D’Oyly, that all those people might have made a discovery of all his corrupt proceedings; he therefore gets the Nabob to appoint Sir John D’Oyly his agent here, with a view of stopping his mouth, and by the hope of another 160,000l. a year to prevent his giving an account of the dilapidation and robbery that was made of the 160,000l. which had been left him.
I have now finished what I proposed to say relative to his great fund of bribery, in the first instance of it, — namely, the administration of justice in the country. There is another system of bribery which I shall state before my friends produce the evidence. He put up all the great offices of the country to sale; he makes use of the trust he had of the revenues in order to destroy the whole system of those revenues, and to bind them and make them subservient to his system of bribery: and this will make it necessary for your Lordships to couple the consideration of the charge of the revenues, in some instances, with that of bribery.
The next day your Lordships meet (when I hope I shall not detain you so long) I mean to open the second stage of his bribery, the period of discovery: for the first stage was the period of concealment. When he found his bribes could no longer be concealed, he next took upon him to discover them himself, and to take merit from them.
When I shall have opened the second scene of his peculation, and his new principles of it, when you see him either treading in old corruptions, and excelling the examples he imitated, or exhibiting new ones of his own, in which of the two his conduct is the most iniquitous, and attended with most evil to the Company, I must leave your Lordships to judge.
SPEECH ON THE SIXTH ARTICLE OF CHARGE. THIRD DAY: TUESDAY, MAY 5, 1789.
My Lords, — Agreeably to your Lordships’ proclamation, which I have just heard, and the duty enjoined me by the House of Commons, I come forward to make good their charge of high crimes and misdemeanors against Warren Hastings, Esquire, late Governor-General of Bengal, and now a prisoner at your bar.
My Lords, since I had last the honor of standing in this place before your Lordships, an event has happened upon which it is difficult to speak and impossible to be silent. My Lords, I have been disavowed by those who sent me here to represent them. My Lords, I have been disavowed in a material part of that engagement which I had pledged myself to this House to perform. My Lords, that disavowal has been followed by a censure. And yet, my Lords, so censured and so disavowed, and by such an authority, I am sent here again, to this the place of my offence, under the same commission, by the same authority, to make good the same charge, against the same delinquent.
My Lords, the situation is new and awful: the situation is such as, I believe, and I am sure, has nothing like it on the records of Parliament, nor, probably, in the history of mankind. My Lords, it is not only new and singular, but, I believe, to many persons, who do not look into the true interior nature of affairs, it may appear that it would be to me as mortifying as it is unprecedented. But, my Lords, I have in this situation, and upon the consideration of all the circumstances, something more to feed my mind with than mere consolation; because, my Lords, I look upon the whole of these circumstances, considered together, as the strongest, the most decisive, and the least equivocal proof which the Commons of Great Britain can give of their sincerity and their zeal in this prosecution. My Lords, is it from a mistaken tenderness or a blind partiality to me, that, thus censured, they have sent me to this place? No, my Lords, it is because they feel, and recognize in their own breasts, that active principle of justice, that zeal for the relief of the people of India, that zeal for the honor of Great Britain, which characterizes me and my excellent associates, that, in spite of any defects, in consequence of that zeal which they applaud, and while they censure its mistakes, and, because they censure its mistakes, do but more applaud, they have sent me to this place, instructed, but not dismayed, to pursue this prosecution against Warren Hastings, Esquire. Your Lordships will therefore be pleased to consider this, as I consider it, not as a thing honorable to me, in the first place, but as honorable to the Commons of Great Britain, in whose honor the national glory is deeply concerned; and I shall suffer myself with pleasure to be sacrificed, perhaps, in what is dearer to me than my life, my reputation, rather than let it be supposed that the Commons should for one moment have faltered in their duty. I, my Lords, on the one hand, feeling myself supported and encouraged, feeling protection and countenance from this admonition and warning which has been given to me, will show myself, on the other hand, not unworthy so great and distinguished a mark of the favor of the Commons, — a mark of favor not the consequence of flattery, but of opinion. I shall feel animated and encouraged by so noble a reward as I shall always consider the confidence of the Commons to be: the only reward, but a rich reward, which I have received for the toils and labors of a long life.
The Commons, then, thus vindicated, and myself thus encouraged, I shall proceed to make good the charge in which the honor of the Commons, that is, the national honor, is so deeply concerned. For, my Lords, if any circumstance of weakness, if any feebleness of nerve, if any yielding to weak and popular opinions and delusions were to shake us, consider what the situation of this country would be. This prosecution, if weakly conceived, ill digested, or intemperately pursued, ought never to have been brought to your Lordships’ bar: but being brought to your Lordships’ bar, the nation is committed to it, and the least appearance of uncertainty in our minds would disgrace us forever. Esto perpetua, has been said. To the glory of this nation, much more be it said, Esto perpetua; and I will say, that,
as we have raised and exhibited a theatre of justice which has excited the admiration of all Europe, there would be a sort of lustre in our infamy, and a splendor in the disgrace that we should bring upon ourselves, if we should, just at that moment, turn that theatre of our glory into a spectacle of dishonor beyond what has ever happened to any country of the world.