Lord Clive had laid his hand on bleeding wounds; he had dried up in them the source of much abuse; he had effectually hindered ambitious and evil projects. His enemies were numerous and determined, and they pursued him to England with their jealous hatred. The most honorable part of his life was calumniated. Past acts were recalled which did honor neither to his heart nor his conscience. By a very natural mistake of public opinion, Clive became to the mass of the nation the type of those functionaries enriched in India who were then called _nabobs_, a great number of whom had seen their malversations stopped by his firm government. A horrible famine which desolated Bengal in 1770, the origin of which was falsely attributed to his measures, cast trouble into the soul as well as confusion into the affairs of the company. Many of its agents were fiercely accused. Lord Clive was involved in their unpopularity. His adversaries presented a bill on the affairs of India to Parliament. Clive did not want to be personally attacked. He defended himself in a long and carefully prepared speech, which had a great and legitimate success. His enemies then directed their accusations against the first part of his life, which were more difficult to defend. Irritated, but not uneasy, Clive boldly maintained the necessity of the manœuvres he had employed, asserting that he would not hesitate to have recourse to the same means again, and when the gifts that he had received from Meer Jaffier were harped upon, "By God, Mr. President," exclaimed Clive, "when I think of the offers which have been made to me, of the caves full of ingots and precious stones which have been opened to me, what astonishes me at this moment is my moderation." {325} With wise justice the House of Commons had blamed, in regard to certain points, Clive's conduct while establishing legitimate principles of government; it had at the same time the justice to recognize the great services which the general had rendered his country. Clive was acquitted by the House and justified in the eyes of public opinion. He was rich and powerful. The American war, then commencing, was about to open a new field for his military genius, and the ministry had already made proposals to him. On the 22d of November, 1774, Clive died by his own hand in the magnificent castle which he had built at Claremont. He was about to enter on his forty-ninth year. On several occasions ere this, in all the vigor of his youth, he had been attacked by that gloomy melancholy which was at last to cost him his life. Being sick and unemployed, he had recourse to the fatal solace of opium. An energetic spirit of most powerful faculties had foundered in shipwreck. England had lost the only general capable of struggling against Washington.