“Apollo shrouds
          The godlike Trojan in a veil of clouds.”

It is the best way of getting the godlike Trojan out of the scrape, don’t you see?  The nodus is cut; Tom is out of chancery; the Benicia Boy not a bit the worse, nay, better than if he had beaten the little man.  He has not the humiliation of conquest.  He is greater, and will be loved more hereafter by the gentle sex.  Suppose he had overcome the godlike Trojan?  Suppose he had tied Tom’s corpse to his cab-wheels, and driven to Farnham, smoking the pipe of triumph?  Faugh! the great hulking conqueror!  Why did you not hold your hand from yonder hero?  Everybody, I say, was relieved by that opportune appearance of the British gods, protectors of native valor, who interfered, and “withdrew” their champion.

Now, suppose six-feet-two conqueror, and five-feet-eight beaten; would Sayers have been a whit the less gallant and meritorious?  If Sancho had been allowed really to reign in Barataria, I make no doubt that, with his good sense and kindness of heart, he would have devised some means of rewarding the brave vanquished, as well as the brave victors in the Baratarian army, and that a champion who had fought a good fight would have been a knight of King Don Sancho’s orders, whatever the upshot of the combat had been.  Suppose Wellington overwhelmed on the plateau of Mont St. John; suppose Washington attacked and beaten at Valley Forge—­and either supposition is quite easy—­and what becomes of the heroes?  They would have been as brave, honest, heroic, wise; but their glory, where would it have been?  Should we have had their portraits hanging in our chambers? have been familiar with their histories? have pondered over their letters, common lives, and daily sayings?  There is not only merit, but luck which goes to making a hero out of a gentleman.  Mind, please you, I am not saying that the hero is after all not so very heroic; and have not the least desire to grudge him his merit because of his good fortune.

Have you any idea whither this Roundabout Essay on some late great victories is tending?  Do you suppose that by those words I mean Trenton, Brandywine, Salamanca, Vittoria, and so forth?  By a great victory I can’t mean that affair at Farnham, for it was a drawn fight.  Where, then, are the victories, pray, and when are we coming to them?

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.