The thin worn cheek is entirely human; endless difficulties
surmounted by endless labour are marked in it, as the sandblast,
by dint of particles ceaselessly driven, carves the hardest
material. If circumstances favoured him he made those
circumstances his own by marvellous labour, so as justly to
receive the credit of chance. Therefore the thin cheek is entirely
human--the sum of human life made visible in one
face--labour, and endurance, and mind, and all in vain. A
shadow--of deep sadness has gathered on it in the years that
have passed, because endurance was without avail. It is sadder
to look at than the grass-grown tumulus I used to sit by,
because it is a personality, and also on account of the extreme
folly of our human race ever destroying our greatest.

Far better had they endeavoured, however hopelessly, to keep him
living till this day. Did but the race this hour possess one-
hundredth part of his breadth of view, how happy for them! Of
whom else can it be said that he had no enemies to forgive
because he recognised no enemy? Nineteen hundred years ago he
put in actual practice, with more arbitrary power than any
despot, those very principles of humanity which are now put
forward as the highest culture. But he made them to be actual things under
his sway.

The one man filled with mind; the one man without avarice,
anger, pettiness, littleness; the one man generous and truly
great of all history. It is enough to make one despair to think
of the mere brutes butting to death the great-minded Caesar. He
comes nearest to the ideal of a design-power arranging the
affairs of the world for good in practical things. Before his