over what might be said of so many a Governor. Also, I should be loath to introduce pages into my book which would expose the serious portion of the work therein to the suspicion of scandal-mongering. I shall therefore here pass by particulars that would concern definite persons; but as a general diagnosis of the complaints of Governors-General I think I must state: First stage. Giddiness. Incense-intoxication. Conceit. Unlimited self-confidence. Contempt for others, especially old chums. Second stage. Exhaustion. Fear. Dejection. Craving for sleep and rest. Excessive confidence in the Council of India. Dependence on the General Secretariate. Nostalgia for a country villa in Holland.
Between these two stages, and as a transition—perhaps even as the cause of such transition—there are attacks of dysentery.
I trust many in India will thank me for this diagnosis. Its application is useful, for one may take it for granted that the patient, who, through over-strain, would in the first period be choked by a gnat, will afterwards—i.e. after the complaint of the stomach!—be able, without inconvenience, to digest camels. Or, to speak more plainly, that an official who “accepts presents, not with the object of enriching himself”—for instance, a bunch of bananas worth a couple of farthings—will, in the first period of the complaint, be dismissed with disgrace and ignominy, but that a man who has the patience to await the last period will, with perfect tranquillity and without any fear of punishment, be able to appropriate the garden where the bananas grew, with also the adjoining gardens . . . and the houses in the neighbourhood . . . and all that may be found in those houses . . . and a few more things, ad libitum.
Everyone may profit by this pathologico-philosophical remark, keeping my advice to himself, of course, to prevent excessive competition. . . .
Cursèd! why must indignation and sorrow so often masquerade in the motley of satire? Cursèd! why must a tear, to be understood, be accompanied by a grin? Or is it the fault of my inexperience that I can find no words to probe the depth of the wound
