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.
Having set to work under new and favourable conditions, he pursued his
task with what in many men would be termed ardour and enthusiasm. These
qualities were evinced by him, no doubt, but in his nature they were
over-borne by persistency and determination. Thus it would be more
correct to say that he urged on the chariot of state with disciplined
energy. He well knew, as the Board before him had known, that the
results of large operations must in the long run be well reported for
public information. But he held that the reporting might be deferred for
a short season. Meanwhile he would secure actual success; the work
should from beginning to end be accurately tested; it should be tempered
and polished like steel and finished _usque ad unguem_. Some officers
would ensure an excellent quality of work with great pains, but then
they would fall short in quantity; others would despatch a vast
quantity, but then it would be of inferior quality; he would have both
quality and quantity, all the work that came to hand must be performed
in time, but then it must also be done well. Nothing is more common even
for able administrators than to lean too much towards one or the other
of these two alternatives; no man ever held the balance between the two
better than he, and very few could hold it as well. In no respect was
his pre-eminence as an administrator more marked than in this. In the
first instance he would prepare no elaborate despatches, indite no
minutes, order no detailed reports to be prepared, write no long
letters. He would have action absolutely, and work rendered complete.
His management of men may be aptly described by the following lines from
Coleridge’s translation of Schiller:
“Well for the whole, if there be found a man
Who makes himself what nature destined him,
The pause, the central point, to thousand thousands--
Stands fixed and stately like a firm-built column.
* * * * *
“How he incites and strengthens all around him,
Infusing life and vigour. Every power
Seems as it were redoubled by his presence;
He draws forth every latent energy,
Showing to each his own peculiar talent.”
He knew that an administrator shines, not only in what he does himself,
but also in what he induces others to do, that his policy will in part
be tested by the character of the men whom he raises up around him, that
the master is recognised in his pupils, and that if his work is to live
after him, he must have those ready who will hand on the tradition, and
will even take his place should he fall in the battle of life. His aim,
then, was to establish a system and found a school.
During 1853 and the early part of 1854 he remained in fair health,
though not in full strength according to his normal standard. During the
early summer of 1854 he sojourned at Murri, a Himalayan sanatorium in
the region between the Jhelum and the Indus. At this sanatorium, six to
eight thousand feet above sea-level, he enjoyed the advantages which
have been already described in reference to Simla. His horizon was
bounded by the snowy ranges that overlook the valley of Cashmere. About
midsummer he returned to his headquarters at Lahore in the hottest time
of the year, and he was once more stricken down with illness, from the
effects of which he certainly did not recover during the remainder of
his career in the Punjab. Fever there was with acute nervous distress,
but it was in the head that the symptoms were agonizing. He said with
gasps that he felt as if _rakshas_ (Hindoo mythological giants) were
driving prongs through his brain. The physicians afforded relief by
casting cold douches of water on his head; but when the anguish was over
his nerve-system seemed momentarily injured. Afterwards when alluding to
attacks of illness, he would say that he had once or twice been on the
point of death. Perhaps this may have been one of the occasions in his
mind. For a man of his strength the attack hardly involved mortal
danger; still it was very grave and caused ill effects to ensue. After a
few days he rallied rapidly, went back to Murri, and resumed his work,
disposing of the arrears which in the interval had accumulated.
Doubtless he returned to duty too soon for his proper recovery, but this
was unavoidable.
After 1854 he spent the summer months of each year at Murri, having been
urged to do so by the Governor-General, Lord Dalhousie.
At various times he visited several of the Native States under his
charge, exchanging courtesies, conforming to their ceremonial usages,
holding Oriental levees, and mixing in scenes of Asiatic pomp amidst
localities of exceeding picturesqueness. He strove to set the seal on
their contentment--hardly anticipating how soon he would have to require
them to draw their swords for the Empire. He again visited Peshawur,
directed operations against some offending hill-tribes, and marched
along the whole Trans-Indus frontier.
In 1854 he caused a report of his civil administration to be prepared.
This report recounted the efforts made for imparting force and vigour to
the police, simplicity and cheapness to civil justice, popularity to
municipal institutions, salubrity and discipline to the prisons,
security to the landed tenures, moderation as well as fixity to the
land-tax. It narrated the beginning of a national education, and the
establishment of institutions such as dispensaries and hospitals,
evincing a practical interest in the well-being of the people. It
adverted specially to the construction of roads and bridges in the face
of physical difficulties, the excavation of canals, the patrolling of
the highways and the erection of caravan-serais. None could then foresee
the enormous service which these highways would render to the British
cause during the troubles which were in store for the country.
In corroboration of this summary, the following testimony was afterwards
afforded in 1859 in a farewell address presented to him by his officers,
when he was about to lay down his power, and to quit them perhaps for
ever. Most of them were either eye-witnesses, or otherwise personally
cognisant, of what they relate.
“Those among us who have served in political and diplomatic
capacities know how you have preserved friendly relations, during
critical and uncertain times, with the native principalities by
which this province is surrounded; how, all along an extended,
rugged, and difficult frontier, you have successfully maintained an
attitude of consistency and resolution with wild and martial
tribes, neither interfering unduly, on the one hand, nor yielding
anything important on the other.
“Those among us who are immediately connected with the civil
administration know how, in the interior of the country, you have
kept the native chiefs and gentry true to their allegiance by
strictness tempered with conciliation; how emphatically you have
been the friend of the middle and lower classes among the natives,
the husbandman, the artisan, and the labourer. They know how, with
a large measure of success, you have endeavoured to moderate
taxation; to introduce judicial reforms; to produce a real security
of life and property; to administer the finances in a prudent and
economical spirit; to further the cause of material improvements,
advancing public works so far as the means, financial and
executive, of the Government might permit; to found a popular
system of secular education; to advocate the display of true
Christianity before the people, without infringing those
principles of religions toleration which guide the British
Government in dealing with its native subjects. They know how you
have always administered patronage truly and indifferently for the
good of the State. To the civil officers you have always set the
best example and given the soundest precepts, and there are many
who are proud to think that they belong to your school.”
In this address the maintenance of order along the frontier Trans-Indus
is mentioned prominently, and indeed this thorny subject had engaged his
attention almost incessantly. He had been obliged frequently to order
military expeditions against the martial and intractable tribes
inhabiting that wild border. No such difficult frontier having
previously been incorporated in British India, his policy though
unavoidable was in some degree novel, and the public mind became at
times agitated, perhaps even mistrustful of the necessity for this
frequent recourse to arms. In 1855, at Lord Dalhousie’s suggestion, he
caused his Secretary to draw up a report of the expeditions which had
been undertaken, and of the offences which had afforded not only
justification but grounds of necessity. That report was an exposition of
his frontier policy at the time.
This frontier was described as being eight hundred miles in length. The
tribes were grouped in two categories, one having one hundred and
thirty-five thousand, the other eighty thousand fighting men, real
warriors, brave and hardy, well armed though undisciplined. After a
precise summary of the chronic and heinous offences perpetrated by each
tribe within British territory, the character of the tribes generally
was set forth. They were savages, noble savages perhaps, and not without
some tincture of generosity. They had nominally a religion, but
Mahommedanism, as understood by them, was no better, or perhaps
actually worse, than the creeds of the wildest races on earth. In their
eyes the one great commandment was blood for blood. They were never
without weapons: when grazing their cattle, when driving beasts of
burden, when tilling the soil, they bore arms. Every tribe and section
of a tribe had its internecine wars, every family its hereditary
blood-feuds, and every individual his personal foes. Each tribe had a
debtor and creditor account with its neighbours, life for life.
They had descended from the hills and fought their battles out in our
territory; they had plundered or burnt our villages and slain our
subjects; they had for ages regarded the plain as their preserve, and
its inhabitants as their game. When inclined for cruel sport, they had
sallied forth to rob and murder, and occasionally took prisoners into
captivity for ransom. They had fired upon our troops, and even killed
our officers in our own territories. They traversed at will our
territories, entered our villages, traded in our markets; but few
British subjects, and no servant of the British Government, would dare
to enter their country on any account whatever.
On the other hand the British Government had recognised their
independence; had confirmed whatever fiefs they held within its
territory; had never extended its jurisdiction one yard beyond the old
limits of the Sikh dominions or of the Punjab as we found it. It had
abstained from any interference in, or connection with, their affairs.
Though permitting and encouraging its subjects to defend themselves at
the time of attack, it had prevented them from retaliating afterwards
and making reprisals. Though granting refuge to men flying for their
lives, it had never allowed armed bodies to seek protection in its
territory. It had freely permitted these independent hill-people to
settle, to cultivate, to graze their herds, and to trade in its
territories. It had accorded to such the same protection, rights,
privileges, and conditions as to its own subjects. It had freely
admitted them to its hospitals and dispensaries; its medical officers
had tended scores of them in sickness, and sent them back to their
mountain homes cured. The ranks of its service were open to them, so
that they might eat our salt and draw our pay if so inclined.
Then a list was given of the expeditions, some fifteen in number,
against various tribes between 1849 and 1855, and the policy of these
expeditions was declared to be reasonable and just. If murder and
robbery still went on, in spite of patience, of abstinence from
provocation and of conciliation, then what but force remained? Was the
loss of life and property with the consequent demoralisation to continue
or to be stopped? If it could only be stopped by force, then was not
force to be applied? The exertion of such force had proved to be
successful. The tribes after chastisement usually professed and evinced
repentance. They entered into engagements, and for the first time began
to keep their faith. They never repeated the offences which had brought
on the punishment. In almost every case an aggressive tribe behaved
badly before, and well after, suffering from an expedition.
By this policy the foundation was laid of a pacification whereby these
border tribes were kept quiet most fortunately during the trouble of
1857, which is soon to be narrated. Had a feeble or inefficient
treatment been adopted towards them from the beginning, they would have
become thereby emboldened to rush upon us in the hour of our weakness.
As it was, they had been accustomed to a firm yet just policy. The awe
of us still rested on them for a while, and they refrained from mischief
at a time when they might have done grievous damage. Further, this
policy, steadily promoted by Lawrence’s successors for fully twenty
years, has rendered the British border Trans-Indus one of the most
satisfactory portions of the Indian empire. In no line of country is the
difference between British and Oriental rule more conspicuous than in
this.
The consideration of the Frontier Policy, up to the end of 1856, leads
up to the relations between Afghanistan and India. The Punjab as the
adjoining province became naturally the medium of such relations.
Up to 1854 the administrators of the Punjab had no concern in the
affairs of Afghanistan. The Amir, Dost Mahommed, who had been reinstated
after the first Afghan war, in 1843, was still on the throne, but he was
far advanced in years, and dynastic troubles were expected on his death.
Since the annexation of the Punjab, he and his had given no trouble
whatever to the British. The intermittent trouble, already mentioned on
the Trans-Indus Frontier, arose not from the Afghans proper, but from
border tribes who were practically independent of any government in
Afghanistan. But by the events connected with the Crimean war in 1854,
British apprehensions, which had been quiescent for a while, were again
aroused in reference to Central Asia generally, and to Afghanistan as
our nearest neighbour. The idea, which has in later years assumed a
more distinct form, then arose that Russia would make diversions in
Central Asia in order to counteract any measures which England might
adopt towards Turkey. This caused John Lawrence to express for the first
time his official opinion on the subject. He would, if possible, have
nothing to do with Afghanistan. If Russia were to advance as an enemy
towards India, he would not meet her by way of Afghanistan. He would
await such advance upon the Indus frontier, which should be rendered for
her impassable. The counteracting movement by England should, in his
opinion, be made not in Asia but in Europe; and Russia should be so
attacked in the Baltic and the Black Sea, that she would be thereby
compelled to desist from any attempt to harass India from the quarter of
Central Asia.
* * * * *
In these days he received a deputation from the Khan of Kokand, one of
the three well-known Khanates adjoining Siberia, who feared absorption
into the Russian empire. But he deemed assistance from the British side
to be impracticable, and after obtaining the instructions of Lord
Dalhousie, he entertained the deputation kindly but sent it back with a
negative reply; and the Khan’s fear of absorption was soon afterwards
realised.
Then, in consequence of the hostile movements of Persia against
Afghanistan, presumably with indirect support from Russia, he received
proposals from Colonel (afterwards Sir Herbert) Edwardes, the talented
and distinguished Commissioner of Peshawur, for an alliance with the
Afghan ruler. He strongly advised the Governor-General not to enter into
any relations with Afghanistan, but added, as in duty bound, that if
such relations were to be undertaken, he would do his best to arrange
them satisfactorily. He then, under Lord Dalhousie’s direction, in
company with Edwardes, met Sirdar Gholam Hyder the heir-apparent of the
Amir Dost Mahommed at Peshawur in the spring of 1855. Thereupon he
concluded a treaty, obliging the two parties mutually to respect each
other’s dominions, also binding the Amir to be the friend of the friends
and the enemy of the enemies of the British Government, without imposing
on it any corresponding obligation. But though the treaty was simple,
his negotiations with the Afghan prince were complex, and in these he
was duly assisted by Edwardes, with whom the policy had originated, and
to whom he rendered full acknowledgment.
He was recommended by Lord Dalhousie for honours from the Crown, and was
made a Knight Commander of the Bath early in 1856, just after Lord
Dalhousie had been succeeded by Lord Canning.
He was shortly afterwards, in 1856, consulted by Lord Canning regarding
the war which the British Government was declaring against Persia for
her conduct towards Herat, a place then deemed to be the key of
Afghanistan on the western side. In the autumn of that year he was
startled by news of the fall of Herat into Persian hands, and by
proposals from Edwardes for rendering effective aid to the Afghan Amir.
Again he opposed these proposals, with an intimation that if the
Governor-General, Lord Canning, should accept them he would do his
utmost to secure their success. As they were accepted by the Government
of India he repaired early in 1857 to Peshawur to meet the Amir Dost
Mahommed. At the Amir’s special request, he crossed the British portal
of the Khyber Pass, and proceeded for a full march inside that famous
defile. The crags and heights echoed with the boom of the guns fired
from the Afghan camp to salute his arrival. There was much of weirdness
and wildness in the aspect of the Afghan levee which was there held in
his honour, an aspect which betokened the desperate character of many of
the chiefs there assembled. He was then accompanied by Dost Mahommed to
Peshawur, and again assisted by Edwardes in the tedious negotiations
which followed. He concluded an additional treaty with Dost Mahommed,
confirming that which had been already made with Gholam Hyder, and
agreeing to afford the Amir a subsidy of a lac of rupees, or £10,000,
monthly with a present of four thousand stand of arms, on the condition
that a European officer should be temporarily deputed, not to Caubul but
to Candahar, and with an assurance that in deference to Afghan
susceptibility, the British Government would not propose to despatch any
European officer to Caubul unless circumstances should change.
This treaty established relations between the British empire and
Afghanistan which have lasted, with some brief but stormy interruptions,
for thirty years up to the present time. It was concluded on the eve of
the war of those mutinies in India which were foreseen by neither of the
contracting parties. On its conclusion Dost Mahommed exclaimed that he
had thereby made with the British Government an alliance which he would
keep till death; and he did keep it accordingly. As a consequence,
during the storm, which very soon afterwards burst over Northern India
up to the very verge of Afghanistan, he preserved a friendly neutrality
which was of real value to the British cause. Thus whatever may be the
arguments before or since that date, the beginning of 1857, for or
against the setting up of relations with Afghanistan, this treaty proved
very useful to British interests in the events which arose immediately
after it was made.
It is but just to the memory of Edwardes, who was the originator and the
prime adviser of this policy, to quote the explanation of it in his own
words by a memorandum which he wrote in the following year, 1858. After
alluding to the former dealings of the British with Afghanistan, he
writes thus regarding himself:
“When Commissioner of Peshâwur, in 1854, he sought and obtained the
permission of Lord Dalhousie to bring about that hearty
reconciliation which was expressed in the first friendly treaty of
March 1855, and subsequently (with the equally cordial approval of
Lord Canning) was substantially consolidated by the treaty of
January 26, 1857. At this latter juncture the Shah of Persia had
seized Herat and was threatening Candahar. England was herself
attacking Persia in the Gulf, and the Indian Government now gave to
the Amir at Cabul eight thousand stand of arms, and a subsidy of
£10,000 a month, so long as the Persian war should last. We did
this, as the treaty truly said, ‘out of friendship.’ We did it,
too, in the plenitude of our power and high noon of that
treacherous security which smiled on India in January 1857. How
little, as we set our seals to that treaty, did we know that in May
the English in India, from Peshâwur to the sea, would be fighting
for empire and their lives, and that God’s mercy was stopping the
mouths of lions against our hour of need. To the honour of Dost
Mahommed Khan let it be recorded that during the Sepoy war, under
the greatest temptation from events and the constant taunts of the
fanatical priests of Cabul, he remained true to the treaty, and
abstained from raising the green flag of Islam and marching down on
the Punjab.”
In another memorandum discussing the alternatives, of advancing into
Afghanistan to meet Russia, or of awaiting her attack on our own
frontier--which frontier has just been described--and deciding in favour
of the latter, Edwardes writes thus:
“By waiting on our present frontier, we husband our money, organise
our line of defence, rest upon our base and railroads, save our
troops from fatigue, and bring our heaviest artillery into the
field; while the enemy can only bring light guns over the passes,
has to bribe and fight his way across Afghanistan, wears out and
decimates his army, exhausts his treasure and carriage, and, when
defeated, has to retreat through the passes and over all
Afghanistan--plundered at every march by the tribes.”
Early in 1857 all people in the Punjab, with John the Chief Commissioner
at their head, rejoiced to hear that Henry Lawrence had been appointed
by Lord Canning to be Chief Commissioner of Oude and would now occupy a
position peculiarly suited to his genius.
The narrative, having now reached the month of April, 1857, may pause
for a moment on the eve of a perilous crisis. In the coming events the
Punjab was destined to play a foremost part, to be the staff for
sustaining the empire and the sword for destroying its enemies. It may
be well to review in the briefest terms the position which was about to
undergo the severest test.
The Punjab had a considerable portion of the European army of India
cantoned within its limits, and relatively to its size a larger
proportion of European troops than any other province in the empire.
Within its area every political centre, but not every strategic point,
was held by European soldiers. The long extended frontier was quiet for
a time at least, some evil-disposed tribes having been overawed and
others deterred by punishment from transgressing. The Frontier Native
Force was in efficient discipline and in high spirits; it had neither
connection nor sympathy with the regular Sepoy army. The Himalayan State
of Jammu-Cashmere, on the northern boundary, was loyal from gratitude
for substantial benefits conferred. The lesser Native States in the
country between the Jumna and the Sutlej were faithful in remembrance of
protection accorded during full fifty years. Of the Native aristocracy,
that portion which had a real root in the soil was flourishing fairly
well, that which had not was withering away. With the feudal classes
judicious concessions in land and money, not over-burdensome to the
Treasury, had extinguished discontent which might otherwise have
smouldered till it burst into a flame if fanned by the gale which was
soon to blow over the province. The middle classes living on the land,
the yeomen, the peasant proprietors, the village communities, all felt a
security never known before. Favourable seasons had caused abundant
harvests, and the agricultural population was prospering. The military
classes of the Sikh nationality had settled down to rural industry. The
land-settlement had provided livelihood and occupation for all the men
of thews and sinews, who formed the flower of the population or the
nucleus of possible armies, and who really possessed the physical force
of the country. The fighting men, interspersed amidst the civil
population, had given up their arms to the authorities. In the British
metaphor of the time, the teeth of the evil-disposed had been completely
drawn. Trade had developed under the new rule, and had expanded with
improved means of communication. Capital had begun to accumulate, and
the moneyed classes were in favour of a government that would support
public credit and refrain from extortion. The mass of the people were
contented, prices being cheap, wages on the rise and employment brisk.
The provincial revenues were elastic and increasing, though the
assessments were easier, the taxation lighter, and the imposts fewer
than formerly. The transit-dues, erst vexatiously levied under Native
rule, had been abolished. The whole administration had been so framed as
to ensure a strong though friendly grasp of the province, its people,
its resources, its capabilities. The bonds were indeed to be worn
easily, but they had been cast in a vast fold all round the country and
could be drawn tighter at pleasure. The awe inspired by British
victories still dwelt in the popular mind. As the repute of the late
Sikh army had been great, that of their conquerors became greater still.
The people were slow to understand the possibility of disaster befalling
so puissant a sovereignty as that which had been set up before their
eyes. The system was being administered by a body of European officers,
trained in the highest degree for organised action and for keeping a
tenacious grip upon their districts. Every post of importance was filled
by a capable man, many posts by men of talent, and some even by men of
genius. At the head of them all was John Lawrence himself, whose eye
penetrated to every compartment of the State-ship to prove and test her
as seaworthy.
Notes of warning had been sounded from Umballa, the military station
midway between the Jumna and the Sutlej. Beyond the Sutlej in the Punjab
proper no unfavourable symptom was perceptible. But day by day ominous
sounds seemed to be borne northwards in the very air. At first they were
like the mutterings of a far off thunderstorm. Then they were as the
gathering of many waters. Soon they began to strike the ear of the
Punjab administrator, who might say as the anxious settler in North
America said,
“Hark! ’tis the roll of the Indian drum.”