Then, for the first time in his toil-worn life, he enjoyed the blessings of a Himalayan retreat, after the torrid heat and the depressing damp of twenty previous summers. He resorted thither, not on leave but on duty, by the special direction of Lord Dalhousie who was there also. He was indeed obliged to quit Lahore for that summer, and had not a retreat to Simla been open to him, he must for a time have relinquished his office in the Punjab. As he ascended the Simla mountains, seven to nine thousand feet above sea-level, the sight of the Himalayas was not new to him, for he had seen them in the Trans-Sutlej States; twice also he had paid brief visits to Simla itself. How pleasant, then, through the summer of 1851, was it for him to bask in mild sunshine, to drink in the balmy air, to recline in the shadows of oaken glades, to roam amidst forests of pine and cedar, to watch the light gilding peak after peak in the snowy range at sunrise, to perceive through a field-glass at sunset the familiar Sutlej winding like the thinnest of silver threads through the distant plains, to note the rain-clouds rolling up the mountain sides, to hear the thunder-peals echo among the crags! These things would have been delights to him even as a visitor in the easiest circumstances, in hale robustness, in all the pride of life; but no pen can describe what they were to the over-taxed brain, the strained nerves, the fevered constitution, the shaken strength—such as his. He revived apace and remained in official harness, having taken the most important part of his work with him, and receiving by the daily post his papers and despatches from Lahore. Further, he had the advantage of personal intercourse with Lord Dalhousie, and thus formed a friendship which, at first official, soon became personal. After two or three months of this changed life, his old vivacity returned, and his conversation was almost as it had been in England and Ireland. But recurrence of Indian fever after an interval is almost a rule, and his case was no exception. At Simla in the autumn his Lahore fever reappeared severely, just a year after its original appearance. This time he was stronger to meet the attack, and so threw it off. But he rose from the sick-bed, for the second time in thirteen months, with vitality impaired. He was, as the event proved, sufficiently recovered to escape any serious illness for nearly three years, and to work without interruption till 1854. But during this summer of 1851, he calmly reviewed his position. He thus actually prepared himself for closing the important part of his career, and for speedily retiring from the public service. With his usual forethought, and in his unassuming way, he would reckon up his resources, and estimate how to live in some quiet and inexpensive place in England on a modest competency. But Providence decreed otherwise, and the possible necessity, though ever borne in mind, did not reach the point of action. So in the early winter he returned to his post at Lahore, to mix in all the troublous discussions, and to bear the official fatigues which have been already mentioned, until the spring of 1853, from which point our narrative takes a fresh departure.
Though now left, in his own phrase, to walk alone—the very course most acceptable to him—he ever remembered his absent brother. In after years he was anxious that Henry’s name should be linked with his own in the annals of the Punjab. At Lahore in 1864, at the culminating point of his fame, and in the plenitude of his authority—when the memory of former differences had long been buried in his brother’s grave—he used these words in a speech to the assembled princes and chiefs of the province: “My brother Henry and I governed this province. You all knew him well, and his memory will ever dwell in your hearts as a ruler who was a real friend of the people. We studied to make ourselves acquainted with the usages, feelings and wants of every class and race, and to improve the condition of all.”
CHAPTER VI
CHIEF COMMISSIONER OF THE PUNJAB
1853-1857
The governing idea, as set forth at the outset of the last chapter, must be sustained in this chapter also. The administration of the Punjab, already sketched, must be yet further delineated; for upon its completeness depended the ability and sufficiency of the province to keep its own head aloft in the rising tide, and to hold up its neighbours amidst the dashing breakers of the rebellion destined to occur only four years later. We need not ask what would have happened had the Punjab been governed with feebleness and inefficiency, because such defects are not to be anticipated under British rule; but the chance was this, that even under an ordinarily fair administration, the preparation of the province might not have been effected within the too short time allowed by events,—that, for instance, the pacification had not been perfect, the frontier tribes not entirely over-awed, the dangerous classes not fully disarmed, the feudal classes not conciliated by timely concessions, the land-settlement not complete, the agrarian disputes not quite composed, the official establishments not so organized as to call forth all the provincial resources at a moment’s notice. For all these things in combination, an extraordinarily good administration was needed, and that the Punjab had. Without that, the province must have been submerged by the floods of rebellion in 1857, and then all Northern India, the finest part of the Indian empire, must have succumbed.
John Lawrence was now, during the spring of 1853, installed in the sole and chief command of the Punjab, with the title of Chief Commissioner, and without any colleague of equal station with himself. This title was created on this occasion for the first time in India, and has since been borne by other men in other provinces; but the fact of its being originally borne by him has invested it with peculiar dignity, and rendered every one proud to bear it. The Punjab had been divided from the beginning of British rule, under his Board, into seven divisions, each being under the civil command of a Commissioner—namely, the Cis-Sutlej on the east of that river, the Trans-Sutlej on the west, the central or Lahore division round the capital, the southern division around Mooltan near the confluence of the Indus and its tributaries, the Sind Sagar division on the east of the Middle Indus,—Sind being the original name of Indus—the Peshawur division comprising that famous valley with the surrounding hills, and the Derajat division at the base of the Sulemani range dividing India from Afghanistan. These seven divisions or commissionerships being placed under him, he was styled the Chief Commissioner. In the management of the country he was assisted by two high officers styled the Judicial Commissioner for law and justice, and the Financial Commissioner for revenue and general administration. His colleague in the late Board, Montgomery, filled the Judicial Commissionership. The Financial Commissionership was, after a year, filled by Donald Macleod, who had been for some time Commissioner of the Trans-Sutlej division. Macleod was eminently worthy of this post in all respects save one. Though prompt and attentive in ordinary affairs, and most useful in emergencies, he had a habit of procrastination in matters requiring deliberative thought. Despite this drawback, he was one of the most eminent men then in India. His scholar-like acquirements, his profound knowledge of eastern life and manners, his refined intellect and polished manner, rendered him an ornament to the Punjab service. Moreover, he had a serene courage, a calm judgment amidst turmoil and peril, which, during the troublous years to come, stood him and his country in good stead.
Thus John Lawrence was blessed with two coadjutors after his own heart, who were personally his devoted friends, who set before all men the example which he most approved, and diffused around the very tone which he wished to prevail. He was in complete accord with them; they were proud to support him, he was thankful to lean on them. No doubt the recent tension with his brother, amidst the urgency of affairs, had affected his health. With him as with other men, the anxiety of undecided controversy, the trial of the temper, the irritating annoyance of reiterated argument, caused more wear and tear than did labour and responsibility. But now he began to have halcyon days officially. His spirits rose as the fresh air of undivided responsibility braced his nerves. Though far from being physically the man he was before the illness of 1850, he was yet sufficiently well to give a full impulse to the country and its affairs, and he girded himself with gladness for the work before him. Like the good ship Argo of old, he propelled himself with his own native force—
“Soon as clear’d the harbour—like a bird—
Argo sprang forward with a bound, and bent
Her course across the water-path.”
The administration of the county proceeded in the same course, even along the same lines and in the same grooves, under him as under the late Board. There may have been some change in tendency here and there, or rather existing tendencies may have been drawn a little in this or that direction; but for the most part he introduced no perceptible modification. This fact may appear strange, when the differences of opinion between him and his brother are remembered. These differences, however, had been reserved as much as possible for discussion inter se, and so kept back from the public eye; thus many important matters had for a time been laid aside; consequently he had not anything to undo in these matters, for in fact nothing had finally been done. So he had no decisions to reverse in cases which had for a while been left undecided. But being relieved from the irritation of controversy, he paid more regard to the known opinions or the recorded convictions of his now absent brother, than perhaps he had done when the brother was present to press the counter-arguments. Thus he succeeded in carrying on the administration without any external break of continuity. If anything like the formation or growth of two schools or parties of opinion among the civil officers had begun, that ceased and disappeared at once. All men knew that the public policy would be directed by one guiding hand, and that when all those who had a claim to be consulted had said their say, a decision would be pronounced which must be obeyed ex animo. But this obedience was rendered easy, because no marked deflection from former principle or procedure was perceptible. It had for some time been notified in various ways that the expenses were growing too fast for the income, and greater financial strictness would be required. None were surprised, therefore, when a more rigid adjustment of expenditure in reference to revenue, and of outlay to resources, was introduced. The Board had designed to adjust the income and expenses so that the Province should from its provincial revenues defray the cost of its administration and contribute a share towards defraying the cost of the army cantoned within its limits; and he carried that financial design into full effect. It was not expected of him that his Province should pay for the whole of that army which defended the empire as well as the Province. But he managed that his provincial treasury should give its proper quota.
In most, perhaps almost all, other respects the conduct of business was the same as that described as existing under the late Board. The march of affairs was rapid and the stream flowed smoothly. The only novelty would be the introduction of additional improvements according to the opportunities of each succeeding year, and the growing requirements of the time. Such improvements were a brief digest of Native law and of British procedure for the use of the courts of justice, commonly called at the time the Punjab Code; the taking of a census and other statistics; the introduction of primary education under State agency, and others.
In weighing the burden which now fell on John Lawrence’s shoulders, it is to be remembered that though before the public and at the bar of history he was the virtual Governor of the Punjab, yet the Government was not technically vested in him, nor had he the status and title of Lieutenant-Governor. As Chief Commissioner he was the deputy of, or the principal executive authority under, the Governor-General in Council. Not only was he under the constant control of the Government of India, but also he had to obtain the specific sanction of that supreme authority for every considerable proceeding, and for the appointment of every man to any office of importance. Being high in the confidence of the Government of India, he was almost always able to obtain the requisite sanction, which was, as a general rule, given considerately and generously. On a historic retrospect it may appear that he ought then to have been appointed Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab, on an equal footing with the Lieutenant-Governors of the North-Western Provinces and of Bengal, and that he who really did the work and bore the responsibility should also have had the rank and the status. But at that time dîs aliter visum. The point ought however to be mentioned here, because it greatly affected the extent of his labours and anxieties. It was one thing for him to devise and arrange what ought to be done, and to prepare for carrying it out; but it was an additional thing for him to obtain the sanction on grounds to be set forth in every important case. The selection of the right men to fill the various offices of trust fell upon him. But instead of appointing them straightway to the places, he had to obtain sanction, in view of which sanction some explanation would have to be rendered. Sometimes, too, the Government of India might desire to appoint some officer other than the one whom he had recommended. Thereupon he would be sure to press his view, believing that the success and efficiency of his work depended on the fitting man being placed in the right position. Being regarded by the Governor-General with generous confidence, he almost invariably carried his point. But the correspondence, official and private, caused hereby was considerable, and the anxiety was greater still. But although as Chief Commissioner he found the work more laborious than it would have been to him as Lieutenant-Governor, still he gladly accepted the position with this drawback, because within his jurisdiction he had his own way. He must come to an understanding with the Government of India indeed; but once he had succeeded in that, no colleague at home, no high officer near his provincial throne, could challenge his policy. This autonomy, even with its unavoidable limitations, was a great boon to a man of his temperament.