The task of the Anglo-Indian administrator is, indeed, the finest
opportunity for that heroic life to the celebration of which Mr Kipling
has devoted so many of his tales. This hero has a task which taxes all
his ability, which promises little riches and little fame, and is known
to be tolerably hopeless. It offers to him a supreme test of his
virtue--a test in which the hero is accountable only to his personal
will; whose best work is its own reward and comfort.


"Gentlemen come from England," writes Mr Kipling in one of his Indian
tales, "spend a few weeks in India, walk round this great sphinx of the
Plains, and write books upon its ways and its work, denouncing or
praising it as their ignorance prompts. Consequently all the world
knows how the Supreme Government conducts itself. But no one, not even
the Supreme Government, knows everything about the administration of
the Empire. Year by year England sends out fresh drafts for the first
fighting-line, which is officially called the Indian Civil Service.
These die, or kill themselves by overwork, or are worried to death, or
broken in health and hope, in order that the land may be protected from
death and sickness, famine and war, and may eventually become capable
of standing alone. It will never stand alone; but the idea is a pretty
one, and men are willing to die for it, and yearly the work of pushing
and coaxing and scolding and petting the country into good living goes
forward. If an advance be made, all credit is given to the native,
while the Englishmen stand back and wipe their foreheads. If a failure
occurs, the Englishmen step forward and accept the blame."


This passage declares the heroic spirit of Mr Kipling's Anglo-Indian
tales; and many readers will fail to understand how exactly this spirit