On March 15th, 1869, Sir John Lawrence landed in England after an absence of more than five years, his wife having preceded him thither the year before. The friends, who welcomed his return, thought him looking worn and broken. He was immediately raised to the peerage under the title of Baron Lawrence of the Punjab and Grateley. The Prime Minister (Mr. Gladstone), in the kindest terms, communicated to him the pleasure of the Sovereign. For his armorial bearings he characteristically adopted as supporters, two native Indian soldiers, a Sikh and a Mahommedan, in order to perpetuate, so far as might be possible, the remembrance of what he and his country owed to the men of these classes. The name Grateley he took from the small estate on Salisbury Plain which his sister Letitia, Mrs. Hayes, had left him on her death. His home at Southgate had been transferred to Queen’s Gate in South Kensington; and he very soon made a short tour to Lynton to see his sister’s grave, and to Clifton near Bristol, the home of his childhood.

In the spring of 1869, then, Lord Lawrence took his seat on the cross benches of the House of Lords, apparently indicating that he had not as yet attached himself formally to either political party, though he certainly continued to be, what he had always been, a very moderate Liberal in politics, anxious to preserve all the good institutions which the nation possesses, while striving for such reforms as might prove to be just, expedient or needful. His first rising in his place to say a few words, on a matter relating to the organisation of the Council of India at Whitehall, was greeted with significant cheers from both sides of the House of Lords. At that time the Bill for disestablishing the Irish Church was before Parliament, and in his heart he grieved over this measure, being much moved by all the Ulster associations of his youth, and well acquainted with all the considerations from a Churchman’s point of view through his wife’s relations or connexions. His regret was even intensified by his respect and esteem for the Ministry of that day, especially for the Duke of Argyll, and for the political party which comprised many of his best friends. When the Bill came to the Lords from the Commons, he followed with keen but melancholy interest the important debates which ensued, without however taking any part in them. He voted for the second reading, in the belief that resistance to the main principle of the measure had become hopeless in the circumstances, and that it only remained for the friends of the Church in the House of Lords to try and make the terms of disestablishment more favourable to her than those offered by the House of Commons, and to preserve as much of her property as possible. He rejoiced when the House of Lords succeeded in doing much towards this end.

At this time the loss of the troopship MegÆra, off the south-western coast of Africa, attracted much public attention; the Government appointed a Commission of Inquiry of which he accepted the chairmanship. Much evidence was taken and an elaborate report made, into all which business he threw his wonted energy.

During the summer of 1869 his aspect brightened in the English air, and the tired look began to disappear, as if the oppression of care had been lightened. His circumstances were easy, and his means were adequate for his requirements with that good management which he always gave to his affairs. Though the inevitable gaps had been made by death among his relations and connexions, still his domestic circle was more than ordinarily peaceful and fortunate. His daughters were being married happily, and his sons were growing up or entering the world successfully. Thus the first year of his final return home drew to its close favourably. The next year, 1870, he spent placidly at Queen’s Gate, Kensington, recruiting his strength, until the autumn, which for him became eventful.

He found that the Elementary Education Act had come into effect, and that a great School Board for all London was to be assembled, representing the several divisions of the metropolis. The elections took place in November, and having accepted a nomination by the ratepayers of his district, Chelsea, he was elected to be one of the members. When the members of the Board assembled in the Guildhall, he was chosen by them to be their Chairman, with Mr. C. Reed (afterwards Sir Charles) as Vice-Chairman. His acceptance of this position, within a short time after relinquishing the Government of India and returning to England, gladdened his friends as proving at least a partial recovery of health, but also surprised them. Thankless drudgery, as they thought, would be his lot, while wearisome debates would tax his patience, and a multiplicity of details would harass one who had been bred amidst stirring affairs in distant lands. Some even wondered whether such work as this would be for him dignus vindice nodus. He thought otherwise however; and his immediate recognition, at the very outset, of the great future in store for the London School Board, is a token of his prescience and sagacity. He shared the anxiety then felt by many lest the education given in the Board Schools should fail to include religious instruction, and he decided for this reason among others to put his massive shoulder to the wheel. He had the happiness soon to see this instruction properly afforded. The work, too, was for the children of the labouring poor, and—while looking towards high education with due deference—he had fixed his heart always on elementary education. In India he rejoiced in village schools, and during his sojourn in England he had given attention to the schools near his house at Southgate. Having accepted the Chairmanship, he was prepared not only to guide the deliberations of the Board in a statesmanlike manner, but also to take a personally active part in its business. The permanent officers of the Board still remember the ardour and enthusiasm which he seemed to throw into the work. Much as it might differ from that to which he had long been used, yet he remembered the command,—that which thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might.

On this Board he found many members in company with whom any man might be glad to act: Lord Sandon (now Earl of Harrowby), Lord Mahon (the present Earl Stanhope), Mr. W. H. Smith (now leader of the House of Commons), Professor Huxley, Samuel Morley, the Reverend Anthony Thorold (now Bishop of Rochester), and others. He presided regularly at the weekly meetings, and when the executive business came to be done by several committees, he attended them also with the utmost assiduity. On this occasion, as on other occasions in his life, the acceptance of fresh work seemed to have an electric effect on him. After the lapse of seventeen years the operations of the Board are seen by all men to be vast, probably the largest of their kind under any one Board in the world; but in his day there was at first only a small beginning. The number of children in the metropolis at voluntary schools (elementary) of all kinds was little over three hundred thousand, too few for a population of more than four millions, so the Board under his presidency was to ascertain the total number of children of a school-going age, then about three-quarters of a million, deduct therefrom the number actually at voluntary schools, and for the remainder (technically called the deficiency) provide Board Schools, after making allowance for those who must unavoidably be absent.

In the very first instance he and his colleagues had to arrange the working of the Board itself, which, as a representative body of considerable importance, needed rules to be framed for the conduct of its debates. He soon found the benefit of a definite procedure, because public elementary education was new, and many questions which having been since settled are now regarded as beyond dispute, were then in an inchoate condition, and tossed about with diverse forces of argument. Many of his colleagues were positive thinkers, fluent debaters, and persons with independent or original ideas, so he had to preside patiently over protracted discussions on grave subjects wherein, after a survey of the arguments, his own mind was soon made up. So fast has been the progress of public opinion, that nowadays, after the lapse of seventeen years, we may wonder at the heat and pertinacity with which several educational topics were debated before him: such as the exercise of the powers for compelling attendance at the schools,—the introduction of sound religious teaching,—the principles on which the Board should calculate the educational wants which it was to supply,—the curriculum of the subjects which should be taught in the schools, as coming within the scope of elementary education,—the part to be taken by the Board in carrying into effect the beneficent principles of the Industrial Schools Act throughout the metropolitan area,—the gradation of the fees payable by the scholars, and so on. He rejoiced in the Resolution passed by the Board in 1871, that “The Bible should be read, and that there should be given such explanations and such instructions therefrom in the principles of religion and morality as are suited to the capacity of children; provided that no attempt be made to attach children to any particular denomination.”

He and his colleagues saw at once that the administration of so growing a business as this could not be conducted by a deliberative body of more than fifty members assembled once a week. He and they knew that the executive work must really be done in Committees. So he arranged that on one or more of the Committees every member of the Board should serve, and that the recommendations of each Committee should be brought up to the weekly meetings of the whole Board, for adoption, or for such other orders as might be passed. Thus he saw those several Committees constituted,—which have during the subsequent sixteen years done what must be termed a mighty work,—for determining the provision of school-places, according to the needs of the population,—for procuring, and if necessary enforcing by law, the attendance at school,—for distributing the large staff of teachers among a great number of schools,—for dealing with the waif and stray children in the streets,—for the purchase of sites for school-houses in densely peopled quarters, and for the erection of buildings,—for managing the debt which the Board must incur in building school-houses,—and for determining annually the amount to be levied by precept from the ratepayers of the metropolis.

He also saw a Divisional Committee appointed for each of the ten electoral divisions of the metropolis, to consist of the members of the Board representing that division with the assistance of local residents. Then his Board furnished the Divisional Committees with a staff of Visitors whose duty it was to make a house-to-house visitation, and to register every child of a school-going age throughout the metropolis, so that the attendance of all might be by degrees enforced; and this far-reaching organisation still exists.

The elections being triennial, his Board, which had been elected as the first Board in November, 1870, yielded place to its successor in November, 1873. He then, from fatigue which necessitated repose, resigned the Chairmanship after three years’ incumbency, and did not seek re-election as a member. In fact, within his term, he had been once obliged to be absent for a few months on account of sleeplessness attributable to mental exertion. At the last meeting of his Board a vote of thanks was accorded to him, on the motion of Samuel Morley seconded by W. H. Smith, for the invariable kindness and ability which he had evinced in the Chair.

Then it was announced that £400 had been contributed by members of the Board in order to form a scholarship to perpetuate the memory of his chairmanship, and £1000 were added by the Duke of Bedford “in order to mark his sense of the services of Lord Lawrence and of the Board over which his Lordship had presided.” The permanent officers of the Board caused a portrait of him to be painted, which now hangs in the large hall of the Board-meetings right over the Chair which is occupied by his successors. A banquet was given in his honour by his colleagues, at which a tribute to his labours in the Board was paid by Mr. W. E. Forster, then a member of the Government, as vice-president of the Council.

It may be well to cite some brief passages to show the estimation in which he was held by the Board. When the vote of thanks on his retirement was proposed, Mr. Samuel Morley, speaking as “an acknowledged Nonconformist,” said that gentlemen of the most opposite opinions had been able to work together harmoniously, and this result he attributed in a large measure to the character of the Chairman. Mr. W. H. Smith said “the way in which Lord Lawrence came forward had greatly tended to rouse the minds of the people to the absolute duty of providing for the education of the destitute children, not only of London, but of England.” Another member said “his friends out of doors, the working classes, would find fault with him if he did not on their behalf tender their thanks to Lord Lawrence.”

From his reply one significant sentence may be quoted as showing that his Board had been friendly to the Voluntary system of education in the metropolis. “We have in no way trodden upon those who have gone before us, or done anything to injure them, but on the contrary our sympathies and feelings have been in the main with those who have preceded us, and all we desired to do was to supplement the good work which they had begun.”

Lastly, at the banquet Mr. Forster said that “the greatest compliment he could pay to the Board would be to say that the work of the last three years will not be the least interesting part of the history of Lord Lawrence, and will bear comparison with many another passage in that history.”

Thus ended the crowning episode in the story of his public life. He who had been the master of many legions, had used the pomp and circumstance of the East for exerting beneficent influence, had defended an empire daring war and guided it in progressive ways during peace—now rejoiced that the sunset of his career should be gilded by services to the poor of London.

He continued, however, to take interest in matters cognate to education. Being one of the Vice-Presidents of the Church Missionary Society, he frequently attended the meetings of its General Committee. Once at a gathering held in furtherance of the mission cause, he bore testimony on behalf of the Missionaries in India, with words that are affectionately cherished by all whom they concern.

In his three months’ absence, already mentioned, during his incumbency in the School Board for London, he visited at Paris the scenes of the Franco-German war and subsequent disturbances there. He also renewed his recollections of Rome and Naples. Since 1871 he had taken for a summer residence the beautiful Brockett Hall in Hertfordshire, fragrant with the memories of Palmerston, and he kept it till the autumn of 1875. The place and its surroundings always delighted him. The last years of physical comfort that he was destined to enjoy were spent there. He appeared to think himself old, though he was hardly so in years, being then sixty-five; but over-exertion during his life of action may have aged him prematurely. To his friends he would write that old age was creeping over him.

Early in 1876 the eyes, which had been keen-sighted originally but had for many years troubled him occasionally, began to fail, and an operation was afterwards performed in London. During the summer he suffered dreadful pain, and had for weeks to be kept in complete darkness. From this misery he emerged in the autumn with one eye sightless and the other distressfully weak. In the spring of the following year, 1877, he submitted to a further operation, and took up his abode in London at Queen’s Gate Gardens. Though unable to read or write, he was relieved from the fear of blindness; so he made a short tour in the New Forest, and attended the House of Lords occasionally during the summer. In the autumn he visited Inverness, and was thankful on finding himself able to read the Bible in large print. For the winter he returned to Queen’s Gate Gardens, and in August of the next year, 1878, he moved for a while to Broadstairs in the Isle of Thanet. Soon he began to take an anxious interest in the intelligence from Afghanistan, which was then agitating the public mind in Britain. He dictated several letters to the Times, reiterating with the old force and clearness his well-known views on Afghan policy, which have been set forth in the preceding chapter. He in conjunction with some of his political friends pressed the Government in London for the production of papers that might elucidate the circumstances, which had led to the military operations by the British against Afghanistan, and especially the conduct, as proved or surmised, of the Amir Shir Ali. He saw, however, that events came thick and fast; the war advanced apace, and was followed by a treaty with Shir Ali’s son Yakoob; the papers were produced in England, and the whole matter was disposed of in Parliament by a late autumn session.

Early in 1879 he seemed fairly well, though he himself had felt warnings of the coming end. But in the spring he paid flying visits to Edinburgh and Manchester. In May he made a wedding-speech on the marriage of his second son. On June 19th he attended the House of Lords for the last time. His object in so doing was to make a speech on a License Tax which had recently been imposed in India. He did not object to such taxes being introduced there to touch the rich and the comparatively prosperous middle classes; indeed he had levied such himself. But he deprecated them extremely if they reached the poor, and he was apprehensive lest this particular tax should go too far in that direction. Therefore he wished to raise his voice on the subject. But it was with him that day as it had been with dying statesmen before, and the sad history repeated itself. His once resonant voice, his strong nerve, his retentive memory, failed him in some degree, and he was not able to deliver fully a speech for which he had made preparations with his wonted carefulness. Yet it was fitting, even poetically meet, that this supreme effort of his should have been put forth on behalf of the industrial poor for whom he had ever cared at home and abroad. However he sat out the debate and drove home exhausted. During the ensuing days drowsiness set in, and he, the indefatigable worker at last complained of fatigue. But for the briefest while he revived enough to attend to private business. He was present, too, at an anniversary meeting on behalf of the asylum at Hampstead for the orphan daughters of soldiers, and proposed a vote of thanks to the Duchess of Connaught. The next day the sleepiness again overtook him, and continued for the two following days, though he aroused himself enough to attend to business. Then he became too weak to leave his bed, and shortly afterwards died peacefully, surrounded by those who were nearest and dearest to him.

Two statues are standing in memory of him; one opposite the Government House at Calcutta, on the edge of that famous plain, called the Mydan, which is being gradually surrounded with monuments of British heroism and genius; the other at Waterloo Place in London, side by side with Clyde and face to face with Franklin. No stately inscriptions commemorate his achievements in classic terms. His friends deemed it best to engrave his great name on the stone, with the simplest particulars of time and place.

But the most sympathetically human demonstration was that at the funeral on July 5th, when his body was laid “to mingle with the illustrious dust” in Westminster Abbey. The Queen and the Prince of Wales were each represented in this closing scene. All the renowned Anglo-Indians then in England were present. The gathering, too, comprised much that was representative of Britain in war and peace, in art, literature and statesmanship. The decorations of the officers, won in Eastern service, shone amidst the dark colours of mourning. The words of the anthem were “his body is buried in peace but his name liveth for evermore.” As the coffin was lowered, the concluding lines of the hymn were sung:

The funeral sermon was preached in the choir by Dean Stanley, who exclaimed as he ended: “Farewell, great Proconsul of our English Christian empire! Where shall we look in the times that are coming for that disinterested love, that abounding knowledge of India, like his? Where shall we find that resolution of mind and countenance which seemed to say to us,

THE END

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