Twenty-One Days in India; and, The Teapot Series | Page 2

[He wears many veils indeed.] He who is the axis of
India, the centre round which the Empire rotates, is absolutely and
necessarily withdrawn from all knowledge of India. He lisps no
syllable of any Indian tongue; no race or caste, or mode of Indian life is
known to him; all our delightful provinces of the sun that lie off the
railway are to him an undiscovered country; Ghebers, Moslems,
Hindoos blend together in one indistinguishable dark mass before his
eye, [in which the cataract of English indifference has not been
couched; most delightful of all--he knows not the traditions of
Anglo-India, and he does not belong to the Bandicoot Club, St. James's
Square!]
A Nawab, whom the Foreign Office once farmed out to me, often used
to ask what the use of a Viceroy was. I do not believe that he meant to
be profane. The question would again and again recur to his mind, and
find itself on his lips. I always replied with the counter question, "What
is the use of India?" He never would see--the Oriental mind does not

see these things--that the chief end and object of India was the Viceroy;
that, in fact, India was the plant and the Viceroy the flower.
I have often thought of writing a hymn on the Beauty of Viceroys; and
have repeatedly attuned my mind to the subject; but my inability to
express myself in figurative language, and my total ignorance of
everything pertaining to metre, rhythm, and rhyme, make me rather
hesitate to employ verse. Certainly, the subject is inviting, and I am
surprised that no singer has arisen. How can any one view the
Viceroyal halo of scarlet domestics, with all the bravery of coronets,
supporters, and shields in golden embroidery and lace, without emotion!
How can the tons of gold and silver plate that once belonged to John
Company, Bahadur, and that now repose on the groaning board of the
Great Ornamental, amid a glory of Himalayan flowers, or blossoms
from Eden's fields of asphodel, be reflected upon the eye's retina
without producing positive thrills and vibrations of joy (that cannot be
measured in terms of ohm or farad) shooting up and down the spinal
cord and into the most hidden seats of pleasure! I certainly can never
see the luxurious bloom of the silver sticks arranged in careless groups
about the vast portals without a feeling approaching to awe and
worship, and a tendency to fling small coin about with a fine mediæval
profusion. I certainly can never drain those profound golden cauldrons
seething with champagne without a tendency to break into loud
expressions of the inward music and conviviality that simmer in my
soul. Salutes of cannon, galloping escorts, processions of landaus,
beautiful teams of English horses, trains of private saloon carriages
(cooled with water trickling over sweet jungle grasses) streaming
through the sunny land, expectant crowds of beauty with hungry eyes
making a delirious welcome at every stage, the whole country
blooming into dance and banquet and fresh girls at every step
taken--these form the fair guerdon that stirs my breast at certain
moments and makes me often resolve, after dinner, "to scorn delights
and live laborious days," and sell my beautiful soul, illuminated with
art and poetry, to the devil of Industry, with reversion to Sir John
Strachey.
How mysterious and delicious are the cool penetralia of the Viceregal

Office! It is the censorium of the Empire; it is the seat of thought; it is
the abode of moral responsibility! What battles, what famines, what
excursions of pleasure, what banquets and pageants, what concepts of
change have sprung into life here! Every pigeon-hole contains a
potential revolution; every office-box cradles the embryo of a war or
dearth. What shocks and vibrations, what deadly thrills does this little
thunder-cloud office transmit to far-away provinces lying beyond rising
and setting suns! Ah! Vanity, these are pleasant lodgings for five years,
let who may turn the kaleidoscope after us.
A little errant knight of the press who has just arrived on the Delectable
Mountains, comes rushing in, looks over my shoulder, and says, "A
deuced expensive thing a Viceroy." This little errant knight would take
the thunder at a quarter of the price, and keep the Empire paralytic with
change and fear of change as if the great Thirty-thousand-pounder
himself were on Olympus.--ALI BABA.

No. II

THE A.D.C.-IN-WAITING
AN ARRANGEMENT IN SCARLET AND GOLD

[Illustration: THE A.D.C.-IN WAITING--"An arrangement in scarlet
and gold."]

[August 9, 1879.]
The tone of the A.D.C. is subdued. He stands in doorways and strokes
his moustache. He nods sadly to you as you pass. He is preoccupied
with--himself, [some suppose; others aver his office.] He has a
motherly whisper for Secretaries and Members of Council. His way

with