5. Such were the people with whom Hastings had to contend for the safety of the British dominions in India. Hearing that France had sent an envoy to form an alliance with them, our governor-general determined to strike a decisive blow before a French force could arrive. The first general sent by Hastings bungled and failed. A new commander was appointed who spread the military renown of the British through regions where no European flag had ever been seen. Captain Popham, in particular, gained great applause by his capture of the great rock-fortress of Gwalior--a feat which all had thought impossible. At dead of night he led his forces, their feet wrapped in cotton, to the foot of the fortress. By means of ladders they silently scaled a smooth wall of rock, sixteen feet high. Above, a steep ascent of forty yards was climbed. A few of the sepoys were then drawn up a wall thirty feet high by ropes let down by some spies, and on being joined by their comrades, rushed forward and overpowered the sleeping garrison, thus gaining possession of the far-famed fortress. 6. Meanwhile our governor-general made all ready for the French. He knew that France had declared war (1778), and that a great French expedition was on the way. To Hastings' great delight there arrived from England, to take the chief command of the forces, Sir Eyre Coote, the hero of Wandewash, and the idol of the sepoys who had fought under him. An incident is mentioned by an English officer, half a century later, which shows the high honour in which Coote was held by the native soldiers. One of his veterans came to the officer who tells the story to present a memorial. Seeing a print of Coote hanging in the room, he at once recognised the face and figure which he had not seen for fifty years, and, forgetting his salute to the living, halted, drew himself up, lifted his hand, and made a solemn bow to the dead. 7. Coote's services were soon required after his arrival at Calcutta. A swift ship flying before the south-west monsoon brought the news that a great army of 90,000 men, under the direction of French officers, had poured down through the wild passes that led from the table-land of Mysore to the plains of the Carnatic. They had swept down under the command of Hyder Ali, a soldier of fortune, who had raised himself to the throne of Mysore, and who now sought, with the help of the French and the Mahrattas, to drive the British out of India. His squadrons had burst upon the Carnatic like a furious storm, spreading desolation and ruin far and wide, routing the small British force that stood in their way, and driving all before them up to the gates of Madras.