line of red carpet was laid from the throne-room, through the Marble Hall and the White Hall beyond it, right down the great flight of exterior steps, at the foot of which a white Guard of Honour of one hundred men from a British regiment was drawn up, Aligned through the outer hall, the Marble Hall and the throne-room were one hundred men of the Viceroy’s Bodyguard, splendid fellows chosen for their height and appearance, and all from Northern India.  They wore the white leather breeches and jack-boots of our own Life Guards, with scarlet tunics and huge turbans of blue and gold, standing with their lances as motionless as so many bronze statues.  For a Durbar, many precious things were unearthed from the “Tosha-Khana,” or Treasury:  the Viceroy’s silver-gilt throne; an arm-chair of solid silver for the visiting Rajah; great silver-gilt maces bearing & crown and “V.R.I.”; and, above all, the beautiful Durbar carpets of woven gold wire.  The making of these carpets is, I believe, an hereditary trade in a Benares family; they are woven of real gold wire, heavily embroidered in gold afterwards, and are immensely expensive.  The visiting Rajah announces beforehand the number of the suite he is bringing with him, and the Viceroy has a precisely similar number, so two corresponding rows of cane arm-chairs are placed opposite each other, at right angles to the throne.  Behind the chairs twelve resplendent red-and-gold-coated servants with blue-and-silver turbans, hold the gilt maces aloft, whilst behind the throne eight more gorgeously apparelled natives hold two long-handled fans of peacock’s feathers, two silver-mounted yak’s tails, and two massive sheaves of peacock’s feathers, all these being the Eastern emblems of sovereignty.

We will suppose this particular Rajah to be a “nine-gun” and a “three-step” man.  Bang go the cannon from Fort William nine times, and the Viceroy, in full uniform with decorations, duly advances three steps on the gold carpet to greet his visitor.  The Viceroy seats himself on his silver-gilt throne at the top of the three steps, the visiting Rajah in his silver chair being one step lower.  The two suites seat themselves facing each other in dead silence; the Europeans assuming an absolutely Oriental impassivity of countenance.  The ill-conditioned Rajah, though he spoke English perfectly, had insisted on bringing his own interpreter with him.  A long pause in conformity with Oriental etiquette follows, then the Viceroy puts the first invariable question:  “I trust that your Highness is in the enjoyment of good health?” which is duly repeated in Urdu by the official white interpreter.  The sulky Rajah grunts something that sounds like “Bhirrr Whirrr,” which the native interpreter renders, in clipped staccato English, as “His Highness declares that by your Excellency’s favour his health is excellent.  Lately, owing to attack of fever, it was with His Highness what Immortal Bard has termed a case of ’to be or not to be!’