Raffles

by Victoria Glendinning

  Travers was back from England the day after Raffles returned from his tour in July. He had seen the President of the Board of Control, now the Earl of Buckinghamshire. His Lordship refused to give an opinion on Gillespie’s charges. He had seen the Chairman of the Court of Directors, and other Directors, ‘but they seem equally disinclined to listen to anything respecting Java.’ So far as the Company was concerned, Java was trouble. Raffles was trouble. Gillespie was trouble. Travers was tiresome. They wished it would all go away.

  The whole tragedy of the British administration of Java is that Raffles was trying, against a ticking clock, to make a first-class country out of a bankrupt one, with neither support nor investment from the Company. It was reckless of Minto to have forwarded the idea. Raffles’ personal tragedy arose from his unquenchable drive and optimism. He would not see that it was impossible; he would never give up.

  Batavia only learned in August 1814 that the British and their Allies had taken Paris. Napoleon abdicated and was exiled to the island of Elba. Raffles was pleased when he escaped. ‘The reappearance of Buonaparte,’ he wrote to William Brown Ramsay on 5 August 1815, ‘has, for all its horrors, shed one consoling ray on the sacred Isle; and Java may yet be permanently English. In this hope I have addressed Lord Buckinghamshire with a general account of the leading measures of my government which appeared to have excited displeasure.’

  He was hoping, from Buckinghamshire, for the engaged response he never got from India House: ‘I am told that so little interest is taken in Leadenhall-street, that the Directors will not even read dispatches from Java.’ It was an appeal to the President of the Board of Control to take on board the commercial and cultural potential not only of Java but of the Moluccas, Banca, and ‘the great island of Borneo… These islands, my Lord, are doubtless the real Taprobane of the ancients – the sacred isles of the Hindus!’

  Stressing – indeed over-stressing – the ‘perfected’ survey of the island of Java and reform of the revenue system, Raffles said he had ‘no narrow views of personal interest’ in an extended administration over the Archipelago. ‘It will require a person of high rank, either noble or military; and I have had too much experience already of the injuries which accrue from the want of that high rank.’ (This is the only time that he referred openly to his social disadvantages.)

  He therefore declared his intention of stepping down as Lieutenant-Governor. ‘Like an anxious pilot I have anticipated with delight the hour when I may deliver [Java] over to her duly appointed Commander. In October, 1816, I shall have been Governor of these Colonies for five years, the usual period for which such a post is held. My health is delicate, and having completed twenty years’ service in anxiety, fatigue, and constant application, I would indulge the hope of some relaxation in the honourable retreat which has, with a view to such an event, been kept open for me at Bencoolen.’

  In autumn 1815 he withdrew to a house at Ciceroa on property bought in the land-sales by Cranssen and Engelhard. Dr Joseph Arnold, on a visit, recorded that there were always eight or ten people round Raffles’ table at dinner – his ADCs Captains Travers, Watson and Methven, his Secretary Charles Assey, Mr Saleh, his Javanese interpreter, and three or four other ‘learned natives’. ‘The Governor speaks Javanese very well; and is collecting facts for a publication of the history of the island.’ Raffles described this project to William Marsden. He did not imagine that he could actually write the book. He ‘would rather see the materials worked up by an abler hand than incur the risk and responsibility of undertaking the task myself.’

  In September 1815, while they were at Ciceroa, Travers heard from William Brown Ramsay, Raffles’ friend and now also his, that the Court of Directors had decided Raffles was to be ‘superseded’ in Java – that is, dismissed, a whole year before he had elected to resign. (Not that his letter to Buckinghamshire would have yet reached London.) Ramsay’s letter was dated 17 May 1815. The crucial despatch from the Court of Directors to Calcutta was dated 5 May in response to one from the Governor-General, not exactly requiring Raffles’ removal but highly critical of his every measure, and expressing ‘embarrassment’ over Gillespie’s charges.

  India House was only interested in the bottom line. The despatch expressed regret that Lord Moira’s critical overview of the economy of Java ‘was not directed to the prevention of acts which have rendered the occupation of Java a source of financial embarrassment to the British Government. With reference to these considerations, whatever the result of the investigations of the charges preferred against Mr Raffles, we are of the opinion that his continuance on the Government of Java would be highly inexpedient.’

  Raffles did not see this, but Ramsay’s letter told the group at Ciceroa what he needed to know. ‘The only person in the party who bore it with calmness was Mr Raffles himself.’ Confident that he could prove the injustice of his dismissal, he wanted to sail for Calcutta immediately. No one else thought this was a good idea. General Nightingall travelled six hundred miles in four days out of pure friendship to persuade him not to go.

  So he wrote letters instead – to Moira, to Charles Grant, Chairman of the Court of Directors, and again to the Earl of Buckinghamshire. He wrote to William Brown Ramsay, saying he would take some leave in England before taking up the post in Bencoolen: ‘My character – my future happiness – require my presence in England…for here I am “a lonely man, like one that has long since been dead.”’ He needed to see his old friends. Another letter to Ramsay told how ‘the manner in which my removal from Java was effected’ had flattened him. ‘The shock was too severe, my health had been undermined, and this injustice threw me on my back. It was the opinion of the [medical] faculty that remaining longer in India was dangerous.’

  Then, on 3 November, the news arrived of Wellington’s victory at Waterloo in June. The war with France really was over. By the same vessel came a copy of the treaty by which Java and its dependencies were irrevocably given back to the Dutch. A week later Raffles lost good General Nightingall, now appointed Commander- in-Chief for Bombay. He was replaced by Colonel Nathaniel Burslem, whose son was christened Rollo Gillespie Burslem, so it is easy to see where his sympathies lay.

  Raffles in early December 1815 had to deal with one last crisis. The three sepoy battalions stationed in Java were fearful that, with the change of administration, they would be compelled to join the Dutch army instead of going home to India. Sepoy activists conspired to join up with local rulers to form an enclave independent of all Europeans. The conspirators were betrayed and Colonel Burslem took strong action against the ringleaders. But intelligence came that rogue elements in the royal families of Surakarta and Yogyakarta were implicated in the plot.

  The situation shocked the British, naively convinced of the sepoys’ ‘fidelity and attachment’, to quote Travers. It was agreed in Council that Raffles himself should go to Surakarta to make his presence felt. On 2 January 1816 he sailed along the coast to Samarang, taking Captain Travers, Herman Muntinghe and a military escort.

  The Susuhunan, apprehensive, saw to it that Raffles and his entourage were welcomed with even more than the customary gun salutes, homages, drum-beatings and processions. But the real business was done when the Susuhunan, informal in slippers and sarong, visited the British Residency. He and Raffles retired to a private room, and Raffles reported the conversation to Colonel Burslem. He assured the Susuhunan that he placed no confidence in the adverse reports, and was only speaking of them to point out the danger to his Highness’s dignity of having allegedly ‘put himself upon a level with inferior officers and private soldiers.’ The Susuhunan explained that any action taken had been from fear of what the returning Dutch might do. Raffles undertook to intercede with the Dutch, and the Susuhunan said he wanted nothing more than the continuance of the terms of the treaty made with Raffles in 1812. Then they rejoined the rest of the group and all sat down to a game of cards – ‘and we played high,’ wrote Travers. The episode exemplifies Raffles with his qualitie
s of head and heart working together. His exercise of authority was couched in terms that contrived to be flattering to his interlocutor. He got what he wanted, and sent his royal guest off in high humour.

  He and his companions went on to pay a strategic visit to Yogyakarta, where they enjoyed – or not – equally magnificent ceremonies, and sat through two tiger fights. There was a touching moment in the hall of audience in the kraton, when the new teenage Sultan’s granny came up to the Lieutenant-Governor, ‘threw herself upon his neck and wept.’ Other women of the family pressed forward to greet him. Olivia’s taboo-breaking visit, and the Lieutenant-Governor’s loss, were not forgotten in Yogyakarta.

  After this mission, there was only humiliation for Raffles in Java. The party returned to Batavia by land, and at Pekalongan they were met by a ship’s captain with despatches for Raffles from Bengal ‘of the most unpleasant nature,’ as Travers wrote. They finalised his removal from Java, but confirmed him in the Residency of Bencoolen. Lord Moira’s comment on that to the Court of Directors was that ‘there is no reason why he should not be employed in a situation of minor responsibility and of more strictly defined duties, of which the Residency of Bencoolen may be considered.’

  His replacement as Lieutenant-Governor was John Fendall – twenty years older, and a lifelong Company man. He arrived with his family on 11 March 1816. Raffles, according to the Memoir, was ‘alarmingly reduced at this time by the joint action of illness, and of the violent remedies [mercury] which had been applied.’ Travers recorded how Raffles got out of bed to receive the Fendalls at Government House. ‘Scarcely able to stand without support, he politely received Mr Fendall and introduced every person present to him, after which we breakfasted and Mr Fendall took the necessary oaths and Mr Raffles retired.’ On 16 March he gave a dinner at Government House, inviting a ‘select party’ to meet the new incumbent, after which Lieutenant-Governor Fendall, his wife and daughters drove off to take possession of Buitenzorg.

  Raffles, homeless, went to stay with Jacob Cranssens. From then on it was a matter of receiving sincere if orotund farewell addresses from public bodies, societies, clubs and the different communities – and writing equally sincere if orotund replies. He was to sail on the Ganges. Travers booked two-thirds of the roundhouse – the best place on the ship – for Raffles for £650. Freight would be charged at £20 a ton. The Ganges was loaded up with about two hundred chests and boxes containing everything Raffles had collected since he had been in the Eastern Isles.

  The day before Raffles left Java, Lieutenant-Governor Fendall gave a party for him at Government House, and ‘we were glad to observe,’ wrote the Gazette’s reporter, ‘that Mr Raffles appeared to be in good spirits, though much reduced and weakened by his late illness.’ He went on to dine with his intimates and ADCs, and the toast was ‘May the Ganges run into the Thames.’ A gift of plate was voted for him by the principal inhabitants of Batavia, which Travers was deputed to buy in London.

  He was to embark shortly after sunrise on 25 March 1816. At six o’clock in the morning troops were drawn up outside Cranssens’ house to escort Raffles to the wharf, where a crowd had gathered. Accompanying him on the Ganges were Captains Travers and Garnham, his doctor Sir Thomas Sevestre, his Malay writer Siami, his longtime Malaccan servant Lewis, the Radin Rana Dipura, a young Javanese noble, and Dick, a little Papuan slave-boy whom he liberated and adopted in Bali. The decks were piled with gifts of fruit and flowers.

  On the third day out, Travers brought to Raffles in his cabin the farewell address from his ADCs, his immediate staff, and Thomas McQuoid: ‘Whatever may be our future destination, and however it may be our chance to be scattered, when we return to our different fixed stations in life, we can never forget the time we have passed in Java.’ Mr Raffles’ ‘spotless integrity and amiable qualities’ in their shared private life ‘are imprinted in our hearts too strongly to be ever erased.’

  Raffles was overwhelmed by emotion. His friends had not referred to Olivia, but she was uppermost in his own mind in his reply: ‘You have struck chords which vibrate too powerfully…You have been with me in the days of happiness and joy – in the hours that were beguiled away under the enchanting spell of one, of whom the recollection awakens feelings which I cannot express. You have supported and comforted me under the affliction of her loss… You have seen and felt what the envious and disappointed have done to supplant me in the public opinion…and now you come forward to say that as children of one family, you will hold to me through life.’

  After rounding the Cape, the Ganges put in for water at St Helena in the small hours of 18 May, where the finally defeated Napoleon had been living in detention since the previous October. The illustrious prisoner lived in comfort at Longwood, a country estate of 15,000 acres, with a group of courtier-companions who included the Count and Countess Bertrand with their several children, and the Count and Countess Montholon with theirs. Both Countesses gave birth at Longwood, the paternity of one being possibly imperial. Long-wood was a royal court in miniature, where Napoleon was still the ‘Emperor’.

  The Governor of St Helena, Sir Hudson Lowe (‘a reserved and sour looking man’ according to Raffles), negotiated Napoleon’s reception of visitors. It was the burning desire of everyone who disembarked at St Helena to gain an introduction to him. Raffles was no exception. Like many Englishmen, he had a fascinated admiration for Napoleon, and he only had thirty-six hours to broker an interview before the Ganges continued her voyage.

  Afterwards, datelined ‘Off St Helena 20th May 1816’, he wrote a twenty-five-page letter to, of all people, Alexander Hare, most of it about the time hanging about not seeing Napoleon, being lackadaisically entertained by officials. Count Bertrand finally gave them a pass into the grounds of Longwood, as the Emperor might be walking in the garden in the late afternoon, and had agreed to an introduction.

  Raffles’ first sight of Napoleon across the lawn was a disappointment: ‘A heavy, clumsy-looking man, moving with a very awkward gait, and reminding us of a citizen lounging in the tea-gardens about London on a Sunday afternoon.’ He was wearing a cocked hat, a dark green coat with a star on his breast, white breeches and white silk stockings. One of his suite peeled off and beckoned to Raffles. Napoleon stopped, took off his hat, put it under his left arm, and rapped out a string of questions. He asked Raffles how he pronounced his name. ‘Where are you from? What country? You are from Java; did you accompany the expedition against it? Have the Dutch taken possession? Is the Java coffee better than the Bourbon?’

  Raffles introduced his companions, who were likewise subjected to brusque, rapid questioning. Then Napoleon ‘making an inclination to move, we mutually bowed, put on our hats, and turning back to back, withdrew from each other.’ That was it. Count Bertrand followed them back to the lodge and ‘invited us to partake of refreshments, which we had the honour of receiving off the Imperial silver.’

  Napoleon’s manner was ‘abrupt, rude and authoritative, and the most ungentlemanly that I ever witnessed.’ Raffles was disillusioned. Napoleon did not really know or care who or what Raffles was, but he was unequivocal about who and what Napoleon was: ‘Believe me, Hare, this man is a monster, who has none of those feelings of the heart which constitute the real man… I saw in him a man determined and vindictive, without one spark of soul, but possessing a capacity and talent calculated to enslave mankind. I saw in him that all this capacity, all this talent, was devoted to himself and his own supremacy. It seems as if the despotism of Europe… were concentrated in him. He is the head of the great monster Despotism, but has no connexion with the heart… We are now prosecuting our voyage to England where we hope to arrive the first week in July.’

  They were still at sea on his thirty-fifth birthday, 6 July, and had a party. But Raffles was sick and sad, writing to William Brown Ramsay, while ‘looking out for the English coast,’ that, though much recovered, ‘I yet remain wretchedly thin and sallow, with a jaundiced eye and shapeless leg.’ His letter ‘com
es from one who, although he brings back with him from India but a sorry carcase, and wants the blazonments of power, returns with a heart and soul as purely and devotedly attached as it was on the day of parting.’

  Chapter 8

  ‘She is devotedly attached to me’

  England 1816–1817

  On 11 July 1816, a clear sunny day, the Ganges anchored off Falmouth on the Cornish coast. It was Raffles’ first sight of England for more than eleven years.

  He left on board the wooden crates containing his books and manuscripts, his animal and plant specimens and drawings, and his Javanese artefacts – thirty tons in weight – for the Ganges to carry on to the London docks. They contained around 450 puppets, 135 masks; twenty krises; the torture implements from Malacca; his sets of gamelan instruments; bronze and wooden figures, the two great heads of Buddha and other pieces from Borobudur, plus quantities of weapons, bowls, pots, boxes, coins, textiles, charms, paddles, hats and ornaments.

  The new arrivals had to be examined for infection or disease by custom-house officials, apprehensive that they might be suspect on account of their ‘pale and emaciated’ looks. Having passed the medical examination, they went straight to the inn and, as Travers recorded, ‘ordered the best dinner procurable at the place, to be got ready as soon as possible, and passed a most joyous, enjoyable evening.’

  Simply being back in England revived Raffles. He snatched the opportunity while in Cornwall of seeing a copper mine, in order to compare it with the mines he knew in Banca. The whole party visited the productive Wheal Busy mine near Chacewater and were greatly impressed by its working; ‘and the wonderful power of the steam-engine was no less a novelty.’ James Watt’s steam-engine had been in operation at Wheal Busy since 1778, but Raffles’ only experience of mining had been in the East, with manual labour and basic tools. He insisted on going down the mine, but Travers did not risk it, impressed that Raffles ‘made himself quite master of the whole routine, and did not suffer in the least.’