| 162 | MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE | [CHAP. XVII |
For the long term of twenty-eight years have I been blessed with the friendship of this illustrious man, and most amiable and perfect gentleman. I first met him in the summer of 1828, at Constantinople, in the house of the Netherland Ambassador, the Baron Zuyler de Nyevelt. Mr. Elphinstone had resigned the governorship of Bombay and retired from the Indian Service about a year before. Although he had been upwards of thirty years in India—without ever leaving the country except when on his mission to the Afghans—his lively classical tastes and his love of antiquities and research made him in no hurry to reach the country and home he had left when a mere stripling: he had taken what is called the overland route; he had visited all the most remarkable scenes and things in Egypt and Syria, had explored all the most noted of the Greek Islands of the Archipelago, had visited the Holy Land, had come through the pass of Mount Taurus, and had traversed Asia Minor from that pass as far as Smyrna, and on to the Troad; and he was now contemplating a return homeward through Greece and Italy. He was accompanied by a Dr. Gordon, in the Company’s Medical Service, and by Mr. Arthur Steel, of the Company’s Civil Service, and a young man of very high promise, to whom Mr. Elphinstone was evidently much attached.
For the nonce, we were all Dutchmen—that is to say, we had all Dutch
passports and were under
| CHAP. XVII] | HIS HOME LIFE | 163 |
On leaving Constantinople Mr.
Elphinstone had the kindness to say that we should be sure to meet in
London, and that he would gladly renew a pleasant acquaintance. I reached home, in very
reduced health, in the spring of 1829, and in the summer of that year met Mr.
E. in the house, in the Regent’s Park, of Bishop Heber’s widow. There was a pleasant party, and I remember that
among the guests were Mr. Hallam and Washington Irving, with both of whom Mr.
E., who had not previously known them,
| 164 | MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE | [CHAP. XVII |
| CHAP. XVII] | BISHOP HEBER’S TRIBUTE | 165 |
“Mr. Elphinstone is, in every respect, an extraordinary man,
possessing great activity of body and mind; remarkable talent for, and application to,
public business; a love of literature, and a degree of almost universal information
such as I have met with in no other person similarly situated; and manners and
conversation of the most amiable and interesting character. While he has seen more of
India and the adjoining countries than any man now living, and has been engaged in
active political, and sometimes military, duties since the age of eighteen, he has
found time not only to cultivate the languages of Hindustan and Persia, but to preserve
and extend his acquaintance with the Greek and Latin classics, with the French and
Italian, with all the elder and more distinguished English writers, and with the
current and popular literature of the day, both in poetry, history, politics, and
political economy. With these remarkable accomplishments, and notwithstanding a
temperance amounting to rigid abstinence, he is fond of society; and it is a common
subject of surprise with his friends at what hours of the day or night he finds time
for the acquisition of knowledge. His policy, as far as India is concerned, appeared to
me peculiarly wise and liberal; and he is evidently attached to, and thinks well of,
the country and its inhabitants. His public measures, in their general tendency, evince
a steady wish to improve their present condition. No government in India pays so much
attention to schools and public institutions for education. In none are the taxes
lighter, and in the administration of justice to the natives in their own language, in
the establishment of Punchayets, in the degree in which he
employs the natives in official situations, and the countenance and familiarity he
extends to all the natives of rank who approach him, he seems to have reduced to
practice almost all the reforms which had struck me as most required in the system of
government pursued in
| 166 | MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE | [CHAP. XVII |
Mr. Elphinstone has rather frequently changed his
place of residence, has been several times travelling on the Continent, and has made more
than one sojourn in Rome; but I have never been long without having the pleasure of seeing
him, or that of hearing from him. For some years he kept his headquarters and his valuable
library in the Albany. Three East Indians were living there at the same time, and in the
same corps de logis, and I believe on the very
same floor—Mr. Elphinstone, Lord
Glenelg,
| CHAP. XVII] | HOUSE AT GODSTONE | 167 |
As years and infirmities increased, my friend left London to reside almost
entirely in the country. He had a pretty place by Dorking; and has now, and has had for
some years, a very charming place, Hookwood Park, by Godstone, where I have the privilege
of being a frequent guest. The quiet village church stands at the end of the park, and
looks holy and beautiful, as seen from the library windows, peeping through the park trees.
I scarcely know a more charming, more thoroughly English little vignette. The house is
nearly all over library. On the ground-floor three spacious rooms open upon one another,
and these from floor to ceiling have the walls covered with excellent books; while,
upstairs, in bedrooms and dressing-rooms, there is another collection. The works are in a
great variety of languages. Many are Italian, as he is very fond of that language and
literature. It is delightful always to have so many good books of reference at hand, and to
see how constantly and with what spirit he uses them. Though very infirm, and though
suffering much in his eyes, he never calls in either servant or amanuensis, but always goes
himself to the shelves and takes down the book or books he wants. He knows where to lay his
hand on every volume, every pamphlet, every map and chart. He takes just as much interest
in all that is doing in science, literature, and art, as he did when I first knew him. I
never knew so keen an interest
| 168 | MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE | [CHAP. XVII |
When he goes to London for a few days he always puts up at the Waterloo Hotel, Jermyn Street, St. James’s, because dear Sir Walter lived there and went thence to Scotland to die at Abbotsford. I have often heard him regret that when he went out to India he was too young to have made the acquaintance of the poet; and that when he returned, poor Scott was oppressed by his financial difficulties, and was rapidly declining. He, however, saw him rather frequently and always speaks of him with warm affection. No one living is better acquainted with his poems and novels, and very few are so capable of appreciating them. One of the old Scottish friends to whom he seems most attached is Lord Murray, the Judge and brother to the late Laird Will Murray, a very keen Whig, but a jovial, hospitable, open-hearted, open-handed man.
Mr. Elphinstone does not like rigid, stiff, sour people.
When Governor of Bombay, he lived like a Prince, or rather those about him
lived as a Sovereign Prince’s people might live. His cellar was as good as his
kitchen; the best wines flowed copiously, but during many years he never tasted them
himself. Within the last ten or twelve years he has taken up “the milk of old
age” and enjoys a few glasses of good old sherry. The port and claret he
leaves to me. He is obliged to live by rule. We always meet at breakfast at nine, and sit a
good time over it. He then retires for an hour to the inner library to read or to answer
letters. At about eleven we go out into the park, and sometimes into the village, talking
all the time. At 2 p.m. we lunch, and again sit a good while, talking more than eating or
drinking; next we go into the drawing-room and discuss books, and talk till about
| CHAP. XVII] | A GERMAN SOCIALIST | 169 |
I have led this life with him day after day, and think I can never have talked and listened so much to any other person in the same given time. No matter what be the subject introduced, he is sure to have information to give, or some new view to suggest. Unhappily, when I was last with him, in June, 1855, I found that an old tendency to deafness had very much increased, but still he could hear me very well, and he encouraged me to talk away as usual. In other respects there had been a visible change for the worse, and that within a very few months. He had had influenza, and was suffering from its consequences. On leaving him at the hall door, I could not avoid the melancholy impression that I had seen my friend and benefactor for the last time. It was a glorious late June morning, with bright sky and warm sunshine, and yet with a fresh, invigorating breeze.
The farmers had made and were carrying in the hay, the sweet odour of which, mingled with the scent of sweetbriar in the hedgerows, filled the atmosphere, and made it a delight to breathe; but my spirits were depressed by the condition of my friend, and by one of the most serious domestic calamities that have ever visited me. I rallied in the railway-carriage, between Godstone and London, being brought to myself, or rather taken out of myself, by a long-bearded Pole, and a longer-bearded German, Socialists both, and both makers of barricades. They were coming from Paris, declaring with many an oath that there was no living there now that the grédin Louis Napoleon had got the French into such a timid, submissive, anti-republican, anti-democratic condition. The Pole had taken to himself, at Glasgow, a Scottish wife; and she, during his late absence in France, had taken herself off, with another man, to the United States of America.
| 170 | MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE | [CHAP. XVII |
“I would not care the ash of this cigar for her,” said the Pole, “but she has sold the furniture and carried off all the money.” The German thought that if the secret societies and clubbists could only get the upper hand on the Continent, and put the guillotine en permanence, things might yet go well with honest men. “Oui,” said the Pole, “mais il nous faudra, au moins, un million de têtes.” A few weeks after this, my friend John Perceval heard the very same words from a French Socialist. People in England are not aware how little the spirit of Jacobinism is changed, or how far these horrible principles extend in France, throughout Germany, and in Italy. Let anything fatal happen to Louis Napoleon, and it will be found that we have been sleeping over the crater of a volcano.
“Old Davis,” as he was called—he lived to a very great age, and had children rather late in life—was a real character, and one of the bravest of little men. He was father of the present Sir Francis Davis, late Governor of Hong-Kong, and of Mrs. J. F. Lyall, who has been mentioned in connection with Lord Hardinge and his generous doings.
I know not how far back it was in the last century that Davis went out to India in the Civil Service; but when my
dear friend the Hon. Mountstuart Elphinstone went to
the same country and service, Davis was well up the tree of promotion.
This was in the year 1797-98. Elphinstone was at that time little more
than a mere schoolboy, having not yet counted his seventeenth summer. He was at once placed
under Davis, who took him into his own house, and looked after him
with all the solicitude of a father, while Mrs. Davis acted the part
of a mother towards the interesting youth—for interesting
| CHAP. XVII] | DAVIS AND ELPHINSTONE | 171 |
In his old age I have often heard him attribute his success in life to the fact of his having been at once put under the care and guidance of these excellent people. Only a few weeks ago, at his pleasant retirement in Hookwood Park, he returned to the subject. “I do really believe,” said he, “that I owe more to good old Davis and his wife than to anyone else, or to all else, in the world. But for them, I might have gone into dissipation and excess, like so many other youths at that period. They kept me at home, and kept me employed. You may fancy that I had had but a very imperfect scrambling education. Besides, what can a boy of seventeen really know? Davis was well-informed, very clever as a man of business, and rather fond of literature as well as of art. He had good books, and we soon obtained more. I then took seriously to educating myself, and in Davis’s family I may be said to have laid the foundation of such knowledge as I possess, or have possessed. I could not be too grateful to them.”
Mr. and Mrs. Davis returned to England many years before Mr. Elphinstone, but when he came home he renewed his friendship, and he treated them as his most valued, best friends, until their deaths, only a few years since.
According to Mr.
Elphinstone’s account, while he was with him Davis was a spare, wiry, strong, but very small man. At
times he was rather choleric and peppery in his temper; but this was natural enough, seeing
that he was a Welshman, and was living in burning Bengal. He was very active, very capable
of enduring excessive fatigue, and he had nerve enough for anything that might be done or
borne by mortal man. The heroism he displayed in defending his house and family at the time
of the revolt of Vizier Ali, and the massacre of
Benares
| 172 | MR. DAVIS | [CHAP. XVII |
The little book is as true as it is interesting; few narratives can have higher claim to implicit credit.
Vizier Ali and his band of assassins, after butchering
Mr. Cherry, Captain Conway, and Mr.
Evans, made a dash at Mr.
Davis’s house, situated outside the town. A single sentry, stationed
about fifty yards from the door, was shot down. The Judge sent Mrs.
Davis, her two children, and all the servants, to the terrace on the top of
the house, and then ran for his firearms, which unfortunately were below. But the
murderers, about two hundred in all, were already in possession of the lower part of the
house; and the only weapon which Mr. Davis could reach was an Indian
pike or spear, which chanced to be upstairs. This pike, according to his son, Sir Francis, was one of those used by running footmen in
India. It was of iron, plated with silver, in rings, to give a firmer grasp, rather more
than six feet in length, and had a long triangular blade of more than twenty inches. With
this weapon, and single-handed, the Judge defended himself like a valiant soldier, and
saved his own life, the lives of his wife and children, and of many others. Taking his
station on the terrace, on one knee, just over the trap-door of the staircase, he waited
for the assault. He was favoured by the steepness and narrowness of the staircase, which
allowed only a
| CHAP. XVII] | VIZIER ALI | 173 |
“I believe,” says Mr.
Elphinstone, “that, at that time, little Davis with his fifteen
Sepoys would not have hesitated to attack a thousand of the rabble
insurgents.” The vile gang went off at score to plunder and burn other English
houses, and to murder, which they did, three more Englishmen. In a brief space of time a
small advance party of cavalry from
| 174 | MR. DAVIS | [CHAP. XVII |
The insurgents appeared to be determined to make a stand, to plunder Benares, and then to set fire to the four corners of the city. In marching through one of the suburbs our troops suffered considerably by a hot fire from the houses, and both of General Erskine’s orderlies were shot at his side. But they reached the Nabob’s strongly-walled and fortified palace, blew open the gate with some field pieces, and obtained admission to the principal court and then into every part of the edifice, garden, and grounds. They searched there, but in vain, for the dastardly conspirator and assassin, Vizier Ali. He had fled northwards towards Betaul, accompanied by all his well-mounted horsemen.
In his early days, some time before the great French Revolution of 1789,
Mr. Davis, then passionately fond of drawing and
landscape-painting, travelled on the Continent and resided a considerable time in Paris,
where he attracted some attention as an amateur artist. Some drawings he exhibited at Paris
were highly admired and much talked of at the time. He continued to cultivate this taste in
India. Being at an up-country station near to the ruins of Gaur, one of the ancient Hindu
capitals, he set out alone, and on foot, one cool morning, to make sketches of those
remains. He was intent on his work, carrying his eye from the ruins to his sketchbook, from
his sketch-book to the ruins, and looking at nothing else, when all at once he heard a
rustling noise, and a heavy tread. Looking sharply round, he saw, close on his right flank,
a huge surly-looking bear, staring at him round the corner of a ruin. The only weapon he
had with him was a penknife to cut his pencils. But he did not lose heart or nerve; he
closed his sketch-book with a slap, raised a shout, and stood still with his open penknife
in hand. Bruin
| CHAP. XVII] | A BRAVE JUDGE | 175 |
I first had this bear story from Mr. Elphinstone, but I have since heard it repeated as a family tradition by old Davis’s daughter, Mrs. J. F. Lyall.
Mr. E.’s modesty never allows him to make himself the hero of his own stories. As he had so much to do with the preparation of Sir Francis Davis’s Benares narrative, the fact is, of course, not mentioned there; but I have grounds for believing that it was through the courage, activity, and hard riding of my friend, who chanced to be in the town when the insurrection broke out, that the native police-officer and the sepoys were hurried to the Judge’s house, and the cavalry and field-pieces were brought up so quickly and so very opportunely.
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