, till in one regiment thirteen officers out of nineteen
were killed or wounded? And why?

Because the French army must be stopped, if it were but for a quarter of
an hour. A respite must be gained for the exhausted Third Corps. And
how much might be done, even in a quarter of an hour, by men who knew
when, and where, and why to die. Who will refuse the name of heroes to
these men? And yet they, probably, would have utterly declined the
honour. They had but done that which was in the bond. They were but
obeying orders after all. As Miss Yonge well says of all heroic
persons--"'I have but done that which it was my duty to do,' is the
natural answer of those capable of such actions. They have been
constrained to them by duty or pity; have never deemed it possible to act
otherwise; and did not once think of themselves in the matter at all."

These last true words bring us to another element in heroism: its
simplicity. Whatsoever is not simple; whatsoever is affected, boastful,
wilful, covetous, tarnishes, even destroys, the heroic character of a
deed; because all these faults spring out of self. On the other hand,
wherever you find a perfectly simple, frank, unconscious character, there
you have the possibility, at least, of heroic action. For it is nobler
far to do the most commonplace duty in the household, or behind the
counter, with a single eye to duty, simply because it must be done--nobler
far, I say, than to go out of your way to attempt a brilliant deed, with
a double mind, and saying to yourself not only--"This will be a brilliant
deed," but also--"and it will pay me, or raise me, or set me off, into
the bargain." Heroism knows no "into the bargain." And therefore,
again, I must protest against applying the word heroic to any deeds,
however charitable, however toilsome, however dangerous, performed for
the sake of what certain French ladies, I am told, call "faire son
salut"--saving one's soul in the world to come. I do not mean to judge.
Other and quite unselfish motives may be, and doubtless often are, mixed
up with that selfish one: womanly pity and tenderness; love for, and
desire to imitate, a certain incarnate ideal of self-sacrifice, who is at
once human and divine. But that motive of saving the soul, which is too
often openly proposed and proffered, is utterly unheroic. The desire to
escape pains and penalties hereafter by pains and penalties here; the
balance of present loss against futu