My good sir, you will perceive that in this Nicaean discourse I have
only as yet advanced as far as this--that a hero, whether he wins
or loses, is a hero; and that if a fellow will but be honest and
courageous, and do his best, we are for paying all honor to him.
Furthermore, it has been asserted that Fortune has a good deal to do
with the making of heroes; and thus hinted for the consolation of those
who don't happen to be engaged in any stupendous victories, that, had
opportunity so served, they might have been heroes too. If you are not,
friend, it is not your fault, whilst I don't wish to detract from
any gentleman's reputation who is. There. My worst enemy can't take
objection to that. The point might have been put more briefly perhaps;
but, if you please, we will not argue that question.

Well, then. The victories which I wish especially to commemorate in
this paper, are the six great, complete, prodigious, and undeniable
victories, achieved by the corps which the editor of the Cornhill
Magazine has the honor to command. When I seemed to speak disparagingly
but now of generals, it was that chief I had in my I (if you will
permit me the expression). I wished him not to be elated by too much
prosperity; I warned him against assuming heroic imperatorial airs, and
cocking his laurels too jauntily over his ear. I was his conscience,
and stood on the splash-board of his triumph-car, whispering, "Hominem
memento te." As we rolled along the way, and passed the weathercocks on
the temples, I saluted the symbol of the goddess Fortune with a reverent
awe. "We have done our little endeavor," I said, bowing my head, "and
mortals can do no more. But we might have fought bravely and not won. We
might have cast the coin, calling, 'Head,' and lo! Tail might have come
uppermost." O thou Ruler of Victories!--thou Awarder of Fame!--thou
Giver of Crowns (and shillings)--if thou hast smiled upon us, shall we