rendered more bearable by the employment of punkahs or pendant fans,
which, being swung from the roof and pulled to and fro by manual
labour, afford a very grateful relief, though, of course, they do not
really lower the temperature of the air. Besides this, during the dry
heat, _tatties_, or screens of grass, are hung in some of the doorways
to windward, and, being kept saturated with water, fresh air is thus
introduced, which is often, during a strong breeze, from 10° to 20°
below the external temperature. But this contrivance is of course
useless during the rainy season, when the external air is already
saturated, and when often there is not a breath of wind stirring.
About three years ago a committee, of which I was a member, was
appointed at Roorkee to consider the question of ventilating and
cooling barracks and other public buildings in India. It was pointed
out that the present arrangement of punkahs and tatties cost Government
annually a very large sum; that the results were not believed to be at
all commensurate with the cost, and that it was desirable to see what
improvements could be introduced.
Many interesting experiments were made, both as to the best modes of
hanging and swinging punkahs, and as to the possibility of dispensing
with them altogether by using blowers, similar to those employed for
ventilating mines, which are to some extent already used in India
under the name of thermantidotes. It was found that a system of
blowers, with tubes for conducting the air into the barrack-rooms,
would certainly be useful for the purpose of ventilation, but that
they would not enable punkahs to be dispensed with, for they could not
produce the same sensation of coolness as a punkah, except by keeping
the whole body of air in the room in movement at an extremely rapid
rate by an extravagant expenditure of power, or by throwing cooled air
in, in sufficiently large masses, as in the case of a tattie with a
strong breeze blowing. Now, although it was easy to produce the breeze
artificially during the dry heat, it was of no use during the rainy
season, unless some artificial means could be found of cooling the air
otherwise than by evaporation. And there appears no means yet known to
science of effecting this in such quantities as are here required, and
at such a cost as will not be ruinous. It is true that many schemes
have been proposed, and some tried successfully, on a small scale,
such as the use of ice, ether, ammonia, &c.; also condensing machines,
such as Dr. Arnott’s; but it is believed that the problem has never
been solved on a large scale yet.
Of course, the utility of blowing in fresh air for ventilating purposes
is not questioned. It has been carried out in several public buildings
lately erected in India; but to blow it in even during the three hot
dry months, in such quantities as to cool, as well as ventilate, the
whole interior of a large barrack, is expensive work; for a whole set
of barracks, comprising from fifteen to thirty different buildings,
separated from each other by considerable intervals, several steam
engines and an enormous quantity of tubing would be required; and the
cost of such things in India is almost ruinous.
It seems probable, therefore, that the old system of punkahs will be
found, for a long time to come, the most efficient and economical; but
their form, construction, and mode of pulling have been the subjects
of much discussion. As to the form, the committee above mentioned
recommended, after a variety of experiments, that the punkah should be
a rectangular framework of wood and canvas, 12 to 18 inches wide, with
a heavy fringe 18 to 24 inches deep; that a system of punkahs should
be rigidly connected so as to swing evenly without jerking; that the
best effect was produced when they moved through an arc of 5 feet, with
a velocity of 2½ feet per second; that no machine had been brought to
their notice equally effective and economical with a man’s arm, but
that a heavy pendulum, if properly connected with a series of punkahs,
might be useful to ensure regularity of swing.
The number of machines or contrivances for pulling punkahs, of which
models, drawings, or sketches were forwarded to the committee, was
extraordinary. A few were ingenious, but complicated and apt to get
out of order; the majority were designed by men ignorant of the first
principles of mechanics, who thought that a pendulum was a prime mover,
or that the weights of a clock wound themselves up.
Much of what I have said above in regard to barracks applies,
of course, to other buildings as well. As Government engineers,
you may have, besides barracks and their subsidiary buildings,
to build or repair court-houses (commonly called _kucherries_),
rest-houses of various kinds on roads or canals for the accommodation
of the establishment, possibly a museum or a college, or a
lieutenant-governor’s palace; and chapels and churches. In all these
buildings the executive engineer is often called upon to prepare the
original design, and if he has any architectural skill, may have an
opportunity of distinguishing himself. As I have already hinted, I
cannot say that we have succeeded in our attempts at Anglo-Indian
architecture. The leading idea a few years back was, apparently, that
a barrack was the unit, or standard, or germ of all architectural
designs; that a barrack was necessarily a rectangular parallelogram
with four walls and a roof; that the addition of a stuccoed Grecian
portico, with a cross and green venetians to the windows, produced an
excellent Roman Catholic chapel, and that if you wanted a Protestant
church, you had only to omit the cross and add a tall, square tower.
However, we have grown beyond that now, and produce excellent copies
of Gothic churches, which would be very nice if they were not so
hot; and in some of the Bombay public buildings, there has been a
considerable amount of originality in the adaptation of the Gothic to
Indian requirements. There is, however, still plenty of room for any
young candidate for architectural honours to develop original talent in
this direction. I would only say to him, for goodness’ sake try to be
original, and don’t be content with slavish copies of buildings erected
in Europe four or five hundred years ago for a totally different
climate. If you _cannot_ be original (and doubtless the genius of
originality is given but to few), then study the noble specimens of
Eastern architecture that are still left to us, both in India and other
eastern countries, and strive to comprehend the meaning and intent with
which that style was designed; you may then catch something of the
spirit of those great builders, and produce something at least suitable
to the climate and the country, and creditable to the taste, which does
not form a grotesque excrescence out of harmony with everything around
it.
Private houses are almost invariably one-storied in Upper India; the
rooms are at least 20 feet high, with numerous doors opposite each
other, and small windows above for ventilation purposes. Each bedroom
has always a bath-room attached to it. A verandah runs all round the
house. The roof is either flat and covered with stucco supported
on beams and joists; or it is pitched and covered with thatch,
which is much the cooler arrangement. The floors are of polished
lime, called chunam; the doors are double; the walls are white or
colour-washed—never papered, as it is difficult to get the paper put
on properly, and it is apt to peel off in the rains. But there is
no reason that it should do so; and I strongly recommend you to get
a practical lesson in paper-hanging and wall-colouring and painting
before you go out, for you will find the knowledge exceedingly useful;
it is simply impossible to get that kind of work done out of the
Presidency towns.
Such buildings as racket-courts and swimming baths you may also have
to erect occasionally; but I don’t know that there is anything special
to say about them, except that the former are always open, with white
walls and black balls, and that the front wall should look to the west,
so that you may be screened from the sun in the evening. Of course you
can have a morning court on the other side, if the station is rich
enough to afford it.
Every executive engineer is supposed to be consulting engineer and
architect to the public generally, and the civil authorities of the
district in particular, and if the magistrate is an energetic man (as
he generally is), you may have to prepare designs for market-places,
_serais_ (or resting-places for native travellers), municipal offices,
clock towers, and the like; and if you are of a mechanical turn, you
may be sure that you will be consulted about the machinery employed in
the jail manufactures, where you will find some mechanical appliances
that will considerably astonish you.
The Water Supply of a range of barracks is, as a rule, derived from
wells, which indeed is the only practicable course in the very flat
plains of Upper India. The water is generally good and wholesome, and
the supply sufficient. This is, indeed, the general source even for
all Indian cities. In only a few have proper waterworks been as yet
constructed, by which a supply can be delivered under pressure. Even in
Calcutta, the works are not yet completed.
The question of a proper water supply for native towns is daily
assuming more and more importance, especially since it now seems pretty
clear that there is a close connection between impure drinking water
and that terrible scourge the cholera. Waterworks have been designed
and carried out in the case of a few important towns like Poona, but
the majority of towns cannot afford to pay for expensive conduits,
filtering beds, pumps, and reservoirs, while they might be able to
pay for simpler schemes. In these as in other similar cases, I would
impress on you the necessity of mastering principles and thinking out
of a groove—I don’t mean neglecting details, but turning your attention
to what is essential, and ignoring what is merely accidental.
For the privies, the dry-earth system of conservancy, common all over
the East, is universal, and, if properly carried out, is no doubt the
best and healthiest. Such a system, however, it is almost impossible
to work properly in a large crowded city, and there is no doubt that a
regular system of sewers is greatly to be desired in such cases. That
of Calcutta is only partially completed. In Bombay and Madras, complete
schemes have been devised, but I believe are not yet commenced. The
cost of such works is again the obstacle, as well as the prejudices
of caste among the people; the want of surface fall in so many cities
is also a difficulty, as great expense would have to be incurred for
pumping.
There are no Gas Works except at the Presidency towns, and as coal is
only found in a few places in India, other cities must wait until some
one can devise a mode of manufacturing gas cheaply from vegetable oils,
which seem the most practicable source of supply in India. The subject
is an important one.
* * * * *
India abounds in rivers, streams, and watercourses of various kinds,
and therefore the subject of _Bridges_ is a very important one to the
engineer; but before describing any of the permanent structures that
have been built, it may be useful to say a word as to the temporary
expedients employed on lines of road, when money is not forthcoming
for the more expensive forms of construction. The first of these is a
sort of Irishman’s bridge—it is no bridge at all; you go through the
water instead of over it, by means of Paved Causeways, which are often
employed on watercourses which contain no water for the greater part
of the year, and are only flooded occasionally. The banks are cut down
to a gentle slope on each side, and a pavement or solid flooring of
masonry or concrete is built to afford a firm roadway for vehicles.
If the water is too deep or the stream too strong, the traveller must
wait till the flood goes down. You will find a good account of such a
pavement across the River Soane in No. 2 of the ‘Professional Papers.’
It is a mile long by 12 feet wide, and answers its purpose very well.
On many of the great lines of road, Boat-Bridges are in use during
the low-water season, which are taken up and replaced by ferry boats
during the rains. The boats used are the ordinary native boats, with
a platform laid on balks and saddles; but they are often troublesome
when the river is falling, owing to the necessity of removing some of
the boats before they are left high and dry. Cylindrical Pontoons are
preferable in this respect, and are often used. There is a pontoon
bridge over the Jumna at Agra, and a very fine one at Cawnpore, over
the Ganges. You will find descriptions of these in the ‘Professional
Papers.’
On the Hill roads, temporary bridges are very common. Some are very
simple, consisting of a single suspended cable, on which is a sort of
travelling cradle in which the passenger sits, and is hauled across
by tackle from the shore end. Others consist of a rope for the feet
and two others for the hands, the three being kept apart by triangular
sticks, and if you are of an acrobatic turn of mind, they are
convenient enough. More ambitious specimens have a suspended platform
of bamboo 3 feet wide; and a neat Wire rope bridge of 200 feet span was
built over the Jumna two years ago by some young officers who went out,
with the help of the native sappers.
You will find another peculiar kind described in the ‘Treatise,’ and
in No. 166 of the 4 ‘Professional Papers,’ put up by Major Lang, R.E.,
on the Hindustan and Thibet road. These are _Sanghoos_, consisting of
beams weighted with stones, and gradually projecting one over the other
until they meet in the centre. A Rope Suspension bridge worth study,
over the Chenab, is described in No. 202 of the ‘Professional Papers.’
I would also draw your attention to the account of the Iron Suspension
bridge over the Beosi at Saugur, described in No. 30 of the ‘Papers,’
erected forty years ago by an infantry officer with the unskilled
labour of the district, and using materials procured on the spot. It is
a good specimen of the way in which an officer is often called upon in
India to exercise his mother-wit, and dispense with the ordinary means
and appliances.
Of more permanent bridges, Timber structures are not much used in the
plains, because wood is generally very expensive, and the extreme heat
and damp loosen the joints and threaten decay to the timbers. You will,
however, find several described in the books so often referred to,
notably one over the Barra river, near Peshawur, by Lieutenant (now
Major) Browne, R.E., one of my assistants at Roorkee lately.
Masonry Bridges of brick and stone are common enough, and you may
often have to construct them. You will find several described in the
‘Papers,’ and the descriptions of the Morhur and Markunda bridges
are especially good and suggestive. The piers and abutments of such
bridges are generally founded on well-cylinders in the way I have
already described, the number varying from three to ten according to
the weight and size. In the bridges on the Lahore and Delhi Railway,
great economy of construction was attempted by making each pier of one
single well-cylinder, 12½ feet diameter inside, supporting a pair of
lattice girders carrying a single line of rails. Now, as these were
sunk from 40 to 50 feet below the bed, and had an additional height of
some 20 feet to the girder above, the stability of such a long slender
column was somewhat doubtful; and when the river scoured out its sandy
bed down to the clay stratum in which the cylinder rested, the force
of the stream, acting with such a leverage, threw over several of the
piers;—at least, in this way I interpret the failures that occurred in
these bridges last year. Had each pier been composed of two cylinders
(one for each pair of girders and line of rails), with the two braced
diagonally together, they would probably have stood.
I have not spoken of the calculations necessary for the Discharge of
these rivers, and the Waterway of these bridges, because it is too long
a subject to be treated of in a lecture. I will only say here that in
no one single point is the Indian engineer so liable to make mistakes;
there is nothing that requires so much study, and failures on account
of insufficient waterway are of every-day occurrence in that country.
And even when your bridge is built, and you have good reason for
believing the waterway to be ample, so treacherous are these streams,
that their course may change in a single night, and your abutments may
be taken in reverse. In the bridge over the Sutlej, thirty-eight spans
of 110 feet each were provided for the stream, and yet, when I saw it,
not a drop of water was going under the bridge; the stream had shifted
while the bridge was being built. Twenty other spans have since been
added, the embankments have been made very massive and defended by
spurs and groins at a great expense against the action of the river;
yet there is no certainty that the river may not attack the embankment
at some other point in the breadth of its valley (which is 5 miles
across), and force its way through, leaving the bridge high and dry. By
the last mail I see that one of the piers has failed, and all traffic
is stopped.
Of Iron Girder Bridges there have been many fine specimens erected
since the railways have been begun. Except a few small ones which have
been constructed at Roorkee, they have all been made up in England,
sent out in pieces, and erected on the spot. I especially commend
to your notice the paper on the Tonse Bridge, in the ‘Professional
Papers,’ as giving an excellent idea of the difficulties of this kind
of work.
So much, then, for bridges. I now turn to the very important subject
of _Roads_. Great progress has been made within the last twenty years
in providing India with roads, but thousands of miles are still wanted
before the road system can be considered anything like complete. The
cost of carriage in many parts of the country is still enormous, owing
to the wretched state of the unmetalled tracks, and whole districts may
be starving while plenty reigns in those adjoining, owing to the same
cause. However, these are questions with which the young engineer at
least has seldom anything to do; his work begins when the construction
of the road is decided upon. The rules regarding the laying out and
construction of roads are of course the same in India as in other
countries. I will only dwell on characteristic specialities. Of the
construction of the earthwork I spoke in my last lecture. The Metalling
employed is kunkur, already described, and various kinds of stone used
in macadamizing in the ordinary way. Heavy iron or stone rollers, drawn
by bullocks, are usually employed, but steam road-rollers have lately
been introduced in Calcutta, Bombay, and even the wilds of the Central
Provinces.
The Grand Trunk Road[B] runs from Calcutta to Peshawur, a distance
of 1600 miles, passing through the Rajmehal hills by some very heavy
works, then on to Benares, Allahabad, Cawnpore, and Delhi, thence to
Umballa, and Lahore, and Jhelum, by massive embankments; thence for the
last 160 miles to Peshawur it is carried by some of the heaviest and
most difficult works in the world. The designer and constructor of the
whole line was Lieut. (now Colonel) A. Taylor, R.E., C.B., director of
the attack at the siege of Delhi.
The Hindostan and Thibet road is another fine work which you will
find described in the books. It is carried right through the hills
from Kalka at the foot, viâ Simla, up the valley of the Sutlej, and
is about 300 miles long; but only the first 60 miles are open for
wheeled traffic. Sometimes it is carried but little above the level of
the river, then it ascends a hill-side by a series of steep zigzags,
then it goes boldly through a rock by a heavy cutting or short tunnel,
then through a magnificent forest of deodars, then by the side of a
vertically scarped hill, 2000 feet down, in which the road is either
blasted out of the solid rock or supported by iron bearers let into
the rock, and carrying a timbered floor. Probably no road in the world
offers such fine scenery to the traveller. The officer who did most
of the work on this road was Major Lang, R.E., my _locum tenens_ at
Roorkee. Before leaving the subject of roads, I may draw your attention
to two or three instruments used in tracing hill roads, which you will
find described in the ‘Treatise’—the Madras Clinometer, and De Lisle’s
Clinometer.
* * * * *
It was in 1849, I think, that the first short experimental line of
_Railway_ was opened in India, between Bombay and Tanna, and soon
afterwards the then Governor-General, Lord Dalhousie, issued his famous
memorandum laying down the principles which were to be adopted in the
construction of the great imperial lines. That great statesman had
been President of the Board of Trade, under Sir Robert Peel, during
the time of the English railway mania, and had been an eye-witness of
the reckless manner in which money had been squandered by the system,
or rather no-system, which had characterized the construction of the
English lines. From that at least his famous minute preserved India. It
prescribed the chief lines to be laid down, the gauge to be observed,
and various other points essential to prevent the public from paying
for the rivalry of competing interests. The money was chiefly raised
in England by the various companies, but the Government guaranteed
a minimum dividend of 5 per cent. per annum to the shareholders, in
return for which it was to exercise a complete control over the work,
through its own consulting engineers. This divided responsibility
doubtless had great disadvantages, and it has since been thought
preferable for the Government to borrow the money itself, and to
undertake the construction of the lines through the P. W. Dept.; but at
that time Government was not in a position to undertake the work, and
the money subscribed to make railways could not of course be diverted
to any other purpose, as would probably have been the case in the
event of war, had Government borrowed the money itself. At any rate,
the main lines have been constructed, though doubtless at a higher
cost than was anticipated, and their opening has been attended with
incalculable advantage to India, both in a military and political, as
well as a commercial, point of view.
The East Indian Railway runs from Calcutta up the valley of the
Ganges, by the great cities of Burdwan and Patna, near Benares, to
Cawnpore, Mirzapore, and Allahabad, and thence to Allyghur and Delhi,
a distance of 1040 miles. Agra is served by a branch line from the
Toondla junction. There is also a branch line, 220 miles long, from
Allahabad to Jubbulpore, where it joins the Great Indian Peninsula line
from Bombay, a distance of 600 miles. The Eastern Bengal line runs for
120 miles from Calcutta to Kooshtea, whence it is now being continued
towards Assam. Another line runs from Bombay across India to Madras,
whence a line runs down the coast to Trichinopoly. From Delhi the main
line proceeds to Saharunpore, Umballa, and Loodiana, to Lahore, a
distance of 330 miles, whence a line of 210 miles runs down to Moultan.
There is also a branch line, 50 miles long, from Cawnpore to Lucknow,
and a few others with which I need not trouble you.
The new lines now being projected, and to be constructed by the
Government itself, are the line from Lahore to Peshawur, 265 miles,
one from Moultan to Kotree, down the valley of the Indus, 600 miles;
one from Agra, through Rajpootana, to Indore; and another from Delhi.
It has been resolved to adopt a mètre gauge for these lines, and to
construct them with the severest regard to economy, and the Government
engineers, military and civil, have doubtless a fine field before them.