GOLCONDA^167deceit: "... this man, in the other parts of his life an honourable
English gendeman and soldier, was no sooner matched against an
Indian intriguer, than he became himself an Indian intriguer, and
descended, without scruple, to hypocritical caresses, to the
substitution of documents, and to the counterfeiting of hands."^29
But this was not the gravamen of Macaulay's condemnation. While
pointing to Clive's moral shortcomings, Macaulay prefers to argue
his case on grounds of expediency "such as Machiavelli might have
employed."
The point was that Clive had committed "not merely a crime, but
a blunder." Individuals, Macaulay points out, may get rich by
perfidy, but not states. In the public domain, a reputation for
veracity is worth more than valor and intelligence, and this especially
in a world of ubiquitous guile and duplicity. Nothing other than a
reputation for unconditional honesty could have enabled Britain to
maintain its empire in India at so litde expense; nothing else could
have brought out the wealth of the nation from its hiding and
hoarding places. The mightiest princes of the East, he notes, cannot
persuade their subjects to part with their wealth for usurious returns;
the British can bring forth tens of millions of rupees at 4 percent.
This is Macaulay's judgment. He has a point. But were Clive's
successors more scrupulous than he? Or have imperialists and
statesmen simply learned to lie better? Or to lie in some things and
not in others? Pursue honesty in money matters, and Devil take the
rest? That would be an irony. The fact is that even in Macaulay's
righteous time, veracity was a function of raison d'état. Even in
money matters—especially in money matters. It is true that investors
trusted the word of Britain and bought consols at 4 percent, and
Britain never let them down... until the twentieth century, when
war and deficits undermined the purchasing power of the pound and
killed the gold standard. Is inflation a kind of impersonal lie?