e enjoys glory still as he enjoyed
the hour of victories, and the battle that might bring death but could
not result in shame. The Brethren of St Dominic and St Francis shrank
in life, at least, from the reverence paid to the sacrifice of worldly
pleasures. They were marvellously simple, and believed that only some
stray picture on their convent walls would remain to tell their story.
They judged themselves unworthy to be praised, and their creed of
cheerful resignation would have forbidden them to accept the adulation
of the hero-worshipper which was lavished in their age upon more
brilliant warriors of the Church.

Time has had revenge upon the Grand Monarch and the usurping tyrant,
yet their names must be upon the roll of heroes, since they played a
mighty part in the events that make history and cannot suffer oblivion
though they have ceased to tower above the subjects they despised.
Louis XIV's personality needs the mantle of magnificence which fell
from France after the predominance of years. Napoleon can be watched
in obscurity and exile till the price of countless victories is
estimated more truly now than was possible for his contemporaries. His
successor has become a mere tinsel figure meddling with strange
impunity with the destinies of Europe, and possessing qualities so
little heroic that only his audacious visions and his last great
failure make the memory of France's last despotic ruler {231} one that
must abide with the memory of those other Revolutionaries of 1848.

Mazzini and Garibaldi receive once more the respect that poverty
stripped from them when they led a forlorn cause and gave up home and
country. Earthly admiration came too late to console them for the ills
of exile and the loss of their beloved, but they both knew that a
struggle had not been vain which would leave Italy free. Romance
forgets these sons of the South and their brief taste of popular glory.
Youth looks further back for idols placed on pinnacles of tradition,
despising shabby modern garb and loving the blood-stained suit of
armour.

Rousseau has risen triumphant above the strife of tongues that would
dispute his claims to the heroic because his life was marred and
incomplete. He has credit now for a fierce impersonal love of truth
and purity. He is a great teacher and a great philosopher, though none
ever placed him among the heroic in action or in character. His
cynical contemporary, Voltaire, still has some veil o