[85] The Post Office traducers of the railway are boastful enough of its services when it suits them to be so. Of Thurso it is thus written, at page 6 of the Postmaster-General’s Eleventh Report (undated)—“The most northern town of Scotland is Thurso, 755 miles distant from London, and the combined effect of these accelerations was to admit of a letter despatched from London on Monday night being delivered in Thurso early on Wednesday morning, and of its reply, if posted about four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon (“about;” is that the way in which letter receptacles are closed in the north of Scotland?), reaching London in time for the first delivery on Friday morning.” As the Post Office chooses to make unfair attacks upon railways, the Post Office must expect retaliation. Therefore, Mr. Seely, of the Admiralty, may we beg you to note there is no end of Post Office “pigs” that can be placed in your hands to work upon, and we beg you to take one, now, to start with. At the commencement of 1867, the department gave the year’s notice it is bound to give, to the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, that its Mediterranean contracts should cease on the 31st of January, 1868. In March, 1867, advertisements were issued inviting tenders for the conveyance of these mails, the service to commence on the 1st of February, 1868. Attached to the form of tender are thirty-eight conditions. By the 31st of these it is stipulated that “the contract shall not be binding until it has lain on the table of the House of Commons for one month without disapproval, unless, previous to the lapse of that period, it has been approved by a resolution of the House.” We believe we were the first to call the public attention to the fact that, as the day for receiving tenders was Monday, the 16th of September, 1867, and as the new contractors would have to commence on the 1st of February, 1868, they would, in that case, not only incur all the risk of providing vessels and suitable arrangements for carrying on the service for a period that might last six years, but they would have actually commenced it several days before the contract could be laid upon the table of the House of Commons. This was in consequence of the House not usually meeting until the 3rd or 4th of February, and it might not be approved until the same date in the following month.
As soon as the blot had been hit it was discovered by the Post Office. It was therefore determined to postpone the commencement of a new contract for six months. The Peninsular and Oriental Steam Company was applied to, to continue the service for that period. The Company expressed its willingness to comply with the request, upon receiving an advanced price of ten shillings a mile instead of four shillings, the price now paid for the service. Mr. Hunt, the Secretary of the Treasury, in a debate upon this question and upon the attempt of the Post Office to place the conveyance of our eastern mails in the hands of Compagnie des Messageries Impériales de la France, designated the demand of the Company as “preposterous.” Whether that be so or not, the omission on the part of the officials of St. Martin’s-le-Grand, an omission or blunder which a junior clerk in a large commercial establishment would at once be dismissed for being guilty of, is to cost the country rather more than £60,000, equivalent to what the Post Office pays for over two millions miles of railway conveyance for mail bags.
Punch, in its number for the 2nd of November, 1867, has a vignette of Toby holding the envelope of a letter for Lord John Manners, Chief Commissioner of Works, and says, “I will not, for the moment, adopt the tone of my friend, the Pall Mall Gazette, who bitterly says, a new principle governs the performance of official duties in England. Elsewhere, where certain men are appointed to take part in the Government of a country, they understand that they are to do the duties of their offices forthwith. With us the understanding is quite different: no work is to be begun except under such emphatic demand as in private life would answer to the practice of regularly kicking your footman to the coal-scuttle, when the fire needs replenishing.” Punch then reminds His Lordship, that at the commencement of this year it was resolved that the water of the lake in Regent’s Park should be drawn off, the mud of half a century be cleared away, and the lake be rendered shallow and safe for skaters this winter. Punch having learned that, practically, nothing is done as yet, proceeds, “Here I repeat, my dear Lord John, is November. We shall have frost soon, and when the ice forms, the foolish crowds will be rushing upon it. I say no more. The rate at which Government work is done, singularly contrasts with the rate at which private work is performed. But, of course, John Bull’s servants never hurry themselves.” On the 30th of September we wrote to the Post Office, complaining that a letter posted in a London pillar box by a member of our family was not delivered to its address in London in due course. On the 25th of October, an answer comes, the whole gist of which is, that as the letter was not delivered at the time expected, it could not have been posted at the time stated. It is hardly necessary to say, that this allegation is unfounded. On the 2nd of October, and again on the 8th, we wrote to complain of the continuous irregularity in the transmission of our book packets; in one instance a letter to us and a book-packet having been posted at Lombard Street post office, and by the same fingers at the same time. The letter came in two hours and a-half, the packet in 39 hours and 20 minutes. Exactly on the day of our closing this sheet for the press (the 8th November), the promised answer to our complaints was delivered. Mr. Punch may well say, “John Bull’s servants never hurry themselves.” The Post Office not only never hurries itself, but, like Mr. Sturgey, the stockbroker, and other immaculate persons, considers itself always in the right.
[86] The latest advices from India announce the commencement, in November, 1867, of a passenger service between Calcutta and Bombay, which is to be done in 116 hours, or 4 days 20 hours. Of these, 80 are to be by rail and 36 in dâk. The journey by dâk will be between Jubbulpore and Nagpore, but the latter station will cease to be on the line of railway communication between Calcutta and Bombay when the existing gap is completed. Eighty hours in the railway seem very long, especially as it is intended, when the through line is opened, to run the whole distance between the two capitals in forty-four hours. The fares for the temporary service are to be 231 rupees (£23. 2s.) first class, 165 rupees (£16. 10s.) second class. Passengers, whether first or second, pay 100 rupees (£10) each by dâk between Jubbulpore and Nagpore.
[87] Can it be possible that the two following paragraphs, the first copied by Engineering from an Indian journal, the second an original article—correctly represent “Travelling in India” at the present time, or even recently?
“Proceeding to the Calcutta terminus of the East Indian Railway, a line 1,000 miles in extent, we find a wretched little building with brick flooring and no punkahs, where tickets are so slowly issued as to raise doubts as to how the demands of a Derby-day would be discharged. Scores of coolies dash down upon our boxes, and, after much altercation, succeed in carrying them off. The waiting-rooms resemble lock-ups intended for the worst species of pick-pockets, and are simply uninhabitable. Parcel’s office, book-stalls, refreshment rooms, and other and more necessary conveniences are wanting. As there is no accommodation for any class of traveller, the public sit and stand about the verandahs and covered ways, choking the approaches, thus rendering impossible any attempt at order. The railway staff, represented by baboos and a few lounging slovenly policemen—there are no porters—are swallowed up in the crowd, whilst the two English sergeants content themselves with keeping the carriage-ways clear. All care appears to cease after the traveller has committed himself to the hands of the East India Railway. By-and-by the steam ferry-boat arrives, bells ring, and the living stream pours and crushes down a covered path, which, stopping suddenly, leaves some thirty or forty paces of open platform, upon which the sun and rain beat uninterruptedly, inconveniencing children, delicate women, old age, invalids, and what not. We are not in the least surprised; thirteen years of neglect has accustomed us to this sort of thing. Immediately afterwards, the Howrah side of the Hooghly is reached, and another uncovered platform presents itself; and if the crushing has hitherto been excessive, the natives being hustled and driven together like sheep, what shall be said of the scene at the Howrah station platform—a narrow stone terrace of considerable length, where other crowds of travellers are already collected and arriving, shrieking and gesticulating? A dense mass of natives, from which an Englishman, by pure muscular power, may occasionally be seen to break, flows onwards, and fills the railway carriages to overflowing. Resistance is out of the question. The pressure onward and inward towards the train, by a simple law of gravity, accomplishes the desired end amid cries and protestations, and forces the human units into acquiescence and the railway carriages. Anything is preferable to being left behind, and such is the option offered to four-fifths of the travelling native population of India. Whether the crowd be great or small, we have never known it considered necessary, so remarkable is the elasticity of the carriages, to afford extra accommodation. Nothing is impossible to the policeman’s baton and the brutality of a station-master, not even death itself. Last year no less than seven or eight corpses, if we remember rightly, were taken from the carriages of this line alone—victims to a barbarous system of overpacking. How many subsequently die from exhaustion will never be known. Men and women are often so crushed in third-class carriages as to be compelled to remain standing for the entire length of a journey, sometimes 400 or 500 miles, and at the hottest season of the year. Scenes daily occur at our Indian railway stations which make an Englishman’s blood burn with shame and anger, not that natives should oppress natives, but that his countrymen should be guilty of, and tolerate in others, acts at once unjust, cowardly, and inhuman; for, as the confusion subsides, many railway officials may be discerned, some on duty, others from the adjoining offices, all connected with the line—all supremely indifferent to its proper management—all smoking, spitting, and gossiping.
“By the time the train has reached Sahibgunge and Jumalpore, this free-and-easy behaviour has passed into absolute rowdyism and terrorism. At one station some respectable natives, travelling by second class are permitted to be insulted and dragged from their carriage by a drunken barrack-sergeant. At another, villagers who had been forced into intermediate class carriages, in course of being knocked about by policemen, are crying and protesting against being charged a fare not voluntarily incurred. Nowhere are the natives treated otherwise than as wild beasts. Tickets for distances under those paid for are constantly issued to the ignorant; and the possession of a small bundle too frequently, under threat of arrest, necessitates the payment of a douceur. These, and hundreds of similar occurrences, are forced upon the attention of the most unobservant European traveller in the course of a few stages. Much remains unseen. With the exception of the private rooms of station-masters, generally extravagantly furnished for men drawing small salaries, five stations out of six are filthy and altogether uncared for, useless to the public, and a disgrace to the line. In all the distance between Calcutta and Delhi, the railway traveller is only reminded of travelling at home by the unbroken absence of every pleasure he has been accustomed to associate with that species of progression. If he has not suffered personally, or not excessively, he has witnessed the sufferings of others more poor and humble, and to a right-thinking Englishman the difference will not appear very material; he will also have witnessed an amount of neglect of, and contempt for, the public such as, we venture to assert, was never before exhibited either in England or abroad.”
“Travelling in India.—In October, 1866, a petition was presented to the Governor-General of India by the British Indian Association of the North-Western Provinces, bearing the signatures of 3,251 persons, praying for the introduction of certain reforms, with a view to affording further and better accommodation for the native travellers, who constitute by far the greatest source of revenue to the railway companies. The construction of railways in India has, as a matter of course, put a stop to the old modes of transit, and the natives have therefore no alternative but to resort to them as a means of conveyance from one place to another; but the accommodation provided for them, either at the stations or in the railway carriages, would, from their complaints, appear to fall far short of what is required.
“One of the principal points to which attention is directed by the memorial is the want of shelter and accommodation at the different stations for third-class passengers. These passengers consist of the poor, the ignorant, and the helpless; many among them are weak and feeble, some sick and old, many women and children. These have always to wait in crowds of hundreds, for several hours at a time, in an open and unsheltered place to purchase their tickets. The few rich and wealthy have waiting-rooms, or the sheltered platform to accommodate them; but the masses of the poor have absolutely no shelter at all. It cannot be expected from these that they should come in only at the proper time, for most of them have but an indefinite idea of time, and a large number come in from surrounding villages and rural districts where no time is kept. But, besides this, the trains themselves arrive so very irregularly—sometimes six hours behind the time—that, without any fault of the passengers, they are compelled to wait; and whilst thus waiting, there is no shelter to be had from the fierce rays of the sun, from the heavy and drenching showers of rain, from the hot winds and clouds of dust, or from the cold cutting blast. In winter, in summer, and in the rains, at all times alike, these masses of weak, ill-clad human beings are left exposed to all the inclemencies of the wind and weather, and suffer and contract diseases which not rarely result in death.
“Another complaint is of the want of proper restaurants for the same class of people, the want of proper nourishment, especially in long journeys, being no less the fruitful source of disease and suffering than the want of proper shelter and accommodation, and, owing to their prejudices of caste, life is often sustained during the railway journeys under great difficulties by the Hindoos and Mohammedans. They also complain of the absence of medical assistance in the event of an accident, and request that some one possessed of medical experience and surgical training may be placed in medical charge of each through train.