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him the expediency of retreating. The insidious advice,
agreeing as it did with what his own terrors suggested, was
readily received. He ordered his army to fall back, and this
order decided his fate. Clive snatched the moment, and
ordered his troops to advance. The confused and dispirited
multitude gave way before the onset of disciplined valour. N o
mob attacked by regular soldiers was ever more completely
routed. The little band of Frenchmen, who alone ventured to
confront the English, were swept down the stream of fugitives.
In an hour the forces of Surajah Dowlah were dispersed, never
to reassemble. Only five hundred of the vanquished were
slain. But their camp, their guns, their baggage, innumerable
waggons, innumerable cattle, remained in the power of the
conquerors. With the loss of twenty-two soldiers killed and
fifty wounded, Clive had scattered an army of near sixty
thousand men, and subdued an empire larger and more populous
than Great Britain.

Meer Jaflier had given no assistance to the English during
the action. But, as soon as he saw that the fate of the day
was decided, he drew off his division of the army, and, when
the battle was over, sent his congratulations to his ally. The
next morning be repaired to the English quarters, not a little
uneasy as to the reception which awaited him there. He gave
evident signs of alarm when a guard was drawn out to receive
him with the honours due to his rank. But his apprehensions
were speedily removed. Clive came forward to meet him,
embraced him, saluted him as Nabob of the three great pro-
vinces of Bengal, Bahar, and Orissa, listened graciously to his
apologies, and advised him to march without delay to Moor-

Suraj-ah Dowlah had fled from the field of battle with all the
speed with which a fleet camel could carry him, and arrived
at Moorshedabad in little more than twenty-four hours. There
he called his councillors round him. The wisest advised him

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