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HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW

TALES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE OF THE WORLD'S HEROES IN ALL AGES

----EDITED BY----

HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE

ILLUSTRATED AND DECORATED BY BLANCHE OSTERTAG

INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO "HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW"

The endeavour has been made in this volume to bring together the
heroic men of different races, periods and types; and in the
selection of material the most attractive, intelligent and
authoritative literature has been drawn upon. In cases in which the
material selected belongs distinctively to the best literature, no
changes have been made, although narratives have been abbreviated;
in cases in which the material has a historical rather than a
distinctively literary quality, the text has been treated for
"substance of doctrine," and omissions have been freely made, and
connecting words, phrases and even sentences have been introduced to
give the narrative clear connection and completeness. In the
preparation of the material for the volume the intelligence and
skill of Miss Kate Stephens have been so freely used that she is
entitled to the fullest recognition as associate editor.

H. W. M.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO "HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW"

The editor and publishers wish to extend their thanks and
acknowledgment to the firms who have kindly permitted the use of
material in this volume:

To The Macmillan Co. for selections from "Heroes of Chivalry and
Romance," "Stories of Charlemagne and the Peers of France," "Old
English History," "The Crusaders," "Father Damien: A Journey from
Cashmere to His Home in Hawaii"; to Thomas Nelson & Son for material
from "Martyrs and Saints of the First Twelve Centuries"; to J. M.
Dent & Co. for selections from "Stories from Le Morte d'Arthur and
The Mabinogion" in the Temple Classics for Young People; to E. P.
Dutton & Co. for material from "Chronicle of the Cid"; to Longmans,
Green & Co. for material from "The Book of Romance"; to John C.
Winston Co. for material from "Stories from History"; to Lothrop,
Lee & Shepard for material from "The True Story of Abraham Lincoln."

CONTENTS TO "HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW"

CHAPTER

INTRODUCTION

I. PERSEUS. Adapted from "The Heroes," by Charles Kingsley

II. HERCULES. By Kate Stephens

III. DANIEL. From Book of Daniel, Chapter vi., Verses 1 to 24

IV. DAVID. From I. Book of Samuel, Chapter xvii

V. ST. GEORGE. Adapted from "Martyrs and Saints of the First
Twelve Centuries," by Mrs. E. Rundle Charles

VI. KING ARTHUR. Adapted from "Stories from Le Morte d'Arthur and
the Mabinogion," by Beatrice Clay

VII. SIR GALAHAD. Adapted from "Stories from Le Morte d'Arthur and
the Mabinogion," by Beatrice Clay; followed by
"Sir Galahad," by Alfred Tennyson

VIII. SIEGFRIED. Adapted from "Heroes of Chivalry and Romance," by
A. J. Church

IX. ROLAND. Adapted from "Stories of Charlemagne and the Peers of
France," by A. J. Church

X. KING ALFRED. Adapted from "Old English History," by E. A.
Freeman

XI. THE CID. Adapted from "Chronicle of the Cid," from the Spanish,
by Robert Southey

XII. ROBIN HOOD. Adapted from "Book of Romance," edited by Andrew
Lang; including a version of the popular ballad,
"Robin Hood and the Butcher"

XIII. RICHARD THE LION-HEARTED. Adapted from "The Crusaders," by A.
J. Church

XIV. SAINT Louis. Adapted from "The Crusaders," by A. J. Church

XV. WILLIAM TELL. Adapted from "Stories from History," by Agnes
Strickland

XVI. ROBERT BRUCE. Adapted from "Tales of a Grandfather from
Scottish History," by Sir Walter Scott

XVII. GEORGE WASHINGTON. Adapted from "Recollections and Private
Memoirs of Washington," by G. W. Parke Custis

XVIII. ROBERT E. LEE. From "Letters and Recollections of General
Lee," by Captain Robert E. Lee

XIX. ABRAHAM: LINCOLN. Adapted from "The True Story of Abraham
Lincoln," by Elbridge S. Brooks

XX. FATHER DAMIEN. Adapted from "Father Damien: A Journey from
Cashmere to His Home in Hawaii," by Edward
Clifford

INTRODUCTION TO "HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW"

If there had been no real heroes there would have been created
imaginary ones, for men cannot live without them. The hero is just
as necessary as the farmer, the sailor, the carpenter and the
doctor; society could not get on without him. There have been a
great many different kinds of heroes, for in every age and among
every people the hero has stood for the qualities that were most
admired and sought after by the bravest and best; and all ages and
peoples have imagined or produced heroes as inevitably as they have
made ploughs for turning the soil or ships for getting through the
water or weapons with which to fight their enemies. To be some kind
of a hero has been the ambition of spirited boys from the beginning
of history; and if you want to know what the men and women of a
country care for most, you must study their heroes. To the boy the
hero stands for the highest success: to the grown man and woman he
stands for the deepest and richest life.

Men have always worked with their hands, but they have never been
content with that kind of work; they have looked up from the fields
and watched the sun and stars; they have cut wood for their fires in
the forest, but they have noticed the life which goes on among the
trees and they have heard the mysterious sounds which often fill the
air in the remotest places. From the beginning men have not only
used their hands but their intellect and their imagination; they
have had to work or starve, but they have seen the world, thought
about it and dreamed about it.

They had worked and thought and dreamed only a little time before
they began to explain the marvelous earth on which they found
themselves and the strange things that happened in it; the vastness
and beauty of the fields, woods, sky and sea, the force of the wind,
the coming and going of the day and night, the warmth of summer when
everything grew, and the cold of winter when everything died, the
rush of the storm and the terrible brightness of the lightning. They
had no idea of what we call law or force; they could not think of
anything being moved or any noise being made unless there was some
one like themselves to move things and make sounds; and so they made
stories of gods and giants and heroes and nymphs and fawns; and the
myths, which are poetic explanations of the world and of the life of
men in it, came into being.

But they did not stop with these great matters; they began to tell
stories about themselves and the things they wanted to do and the
kind of life they wanted to lead. They wanted ease, power, wealth,
happiness, freedom; so they created genii, built palaces, made magic
carpets which carried them to the ends of the earth and horses with
wings which bore them through the air, peopled the woods and fields
with friendly, frolicsome or mischievous little people, who made
fires for them if they were friendly, or milked cows, overturned
bowls, broke dishes and played all kinds of antics and made all
sorts of trouble if they were mischievous or unfriendly. Beside the
great myths, like wild flowers in the shade of great trees, there
sprang up among the people of almost all countries a host of poetic,
satirical, humorous or homely stories of fairies, genii, trolls,
giants, dwarfs, imps, and queer creatures of all kinds; so that to
the children of two hundred years ago the woods, the fields, the
solitary and quiet places everywhere, were full of folk who kept out
of sight, but who had a great deal to do with the fortunes and fates
of men and women.

From very early times great honor was paid to courage and strength;
qualities which won success and impressed the imagination in
primitive not less than in highly developed societies. The first
heroes were gods or demi-gods, or men of immense strength who did
difficult things. When men first began to live in the world they
were in constant peril and faced hardships of every kind; and from
the start they had very hard work to do. There were fields to be
cultivated, houses to be built, woods to be explored, beasts to be
killed and other beasts to be tamed and set to work. There were many
things to be done and no tools to work with; there were great storms
to be faced and no houses for protection; there was terrible cold
and no fire or clothing; there were diseases and no medicine; there
were perils on land, in the water and in the air, and no knowledge
of the ways of meeting them.

At the very start courage and strength were necessary if life was to
be preserved and men were to live together in safety and with
comfort. When a strong man appeared he helped his fellows to make
themselves more at ease in the world. Sometimes he did this by
simply making himself more comfortable and thus showing others how
to do it; sometimes he did it by working for his fellows. No matter
how selfish a man may be, if he does any real work in the world he
works not only for himself but for others. In this way a selfish man
like Napoleon does the work of a hero without meaning to do it: for
the world is so made that no capable man or woman can be entirely
selfish, no matter how hard they try to get and keep everything for
themselves.

It was not long before men saw that strong men could not work for
themselves without working for others, and there came in very early
the idea of service as part of the idea of heroism, and the demi-
gods, who were among the earliest heroes, were servants as well as
masters. Hercules, the most powerful of the heroes to Greek and
Roman boys was set to do the most difficult things not for himself
but for others. He destroyed lions, hydras, wild boars, birds with
brazen beaks and wings, mad bulls, many-headed monsters, horses
which fed on human flesh, dragons, he mastered the three-headed dog
Cerberus, he tore asunder the rocks at the Strait of Gibraltar which
bear his name to open a channel between the Mediterranean and the
Atlantic. He fought the Centaur and brought back Alcestis, the wife
of Admetus, from the pale regions of death where she had gone to
save her husband's life. In all these labors, which were so great
that works of extraordinary magnitude have since been called
Herculean, the brave, patient, suffering hero, was helping other
people rather than helping himself.

And this was true of Thor, the strong god of the Norsemen whose
hammer was the most terrible weapon in the world, the roll and crash
of thunder being the sound of it and the blinding lightning the
flash of it. The gods were the friends of men, giving the light and
warmth and fertility of the summer that the fields might bear food
for them and the long, bright days might bring them peace and
happiness. And the giants were the enemies of men, tirelessly trying
to make the fields desolate and stop the singing of birds and shroud
the sky in darkness by driving away summer with the icy breath of
winter. In this perpetual conflict Thor was the hero of strength and
courage, beating back the giants, defeating their schemes and
fighting the battle for gods and men with tireless zeal; counting no
peril or hardship too great if there was heroic work to be done.

Courage and achievement are the two signs of the hero; he may
possess or lack many other qualities, but he must be daring and he
must do things and not dream or talk about them.

From the days of Hercules to those of Washington and Livingston, men
of heroic spirit have not stopped to count the cost when a deed must
be done but have done it, usually with very little talk or noise;
for heroes, as a rule, are much more interested in getting their
work done than in making themselves conspicuous or winning a
reputation. Heroes have often been harsh and even brutal, especially
in the earliest times when humane feeling and a compassionate spirit
had not been developed; Siegfried, Jason, Gustavas Adolphus and Von
Tromp were often arbitrary and oppressive in their attitude toward
men; and, in later times, Alfred the Great, William the Silent and
Nelson were not without serious defects of temper and sometimes of
character. Men are not great or heroic because they are faultless;
they are great and heroic because they dare, suffer, achieve and
serve.

And men love their heroes not because they have been perfect
characters under all conditions, but because they have been brave,
true, able, and unselfish, A man may have few faults and count for
very little in the world, because he lacks force, daring, the
greatness of soul which moves before a generation like a flaming
torch; a man may lead a stainless life, not because he is really
virtuous but because he has very few temptations within or without.
Some of the most heroic men have put forth more strength in
resisting a single temptation than men of theories and more
commonplace natures put forth in a life time. The serious faults of
heroes are not overlooked or forgotten; the great man is as much the
servant of the moral law as the little man, and pays the same price
for disobedience; but generosity of spirit, devotion to high aims
and capacity for self-sacrifice often outweigh serious offences.
Nelson is less a hero because he yielded to a great temptation; but
he remains a hero in spite of the stain on his fame. It is much
better not to be profane under any circumstances, but when
Washington swore fiercely at Charles Lee on the battle field of
Monmouth his profanity was the expression of the righteous wrath of
a good man. In judging the hero one must take into account the age
in which he lived, the differences in moral standards between the
past and the present, and the force of the temptations which come
with strength of body, passion, imagination, great position,
colossal enterprises; these do not conceal or excuse the faults of
heroes but they explain those faults.

The men whose bravery and great deeds are described in these pages
have been selected not because they are faultless in character and
life, but because they were brave, generous, self-forgetful, self-
sacrificing and capable of splendid deeds. Men love and honour them
not only because they owe them a great deal of gratitude, but
because they see in their heroes the kind of men they would like to
be; for the possibilities of the heroic are in almost all men.
Stories of the heroes have often made other men strong and brave and
true in the face of great perils and tasks, and this book is put
forth in the faith that it will not only pass on the fame of the
heroes of the past but help make heroes in the present.

H. W. M.

CHAPTER I

PERSEUS

Once upon a time there were two princes who were twins. Their names
were Acrisius and Proetus, and they lived in the pleasant vale of
Argos, far away in Hellas. They had fruitful meadows and vineyards,
sheep and oxen, great herds of horses feeding down in Lerna Fen, and
all that men could need to make them blest: and yet they were
wretched, because they were jealous of each other. From the moment
they were born they began to quarrel; and when they grew up each
tried to take away the other's share of the kingdom, and keep all
for himself.

But there came a prophet to Acrisius and prophesied against him, and
said, "Because you have risen up against your own blood, your own
blood shall rise up against you; because you have sinned against
your kindred, by your kindred you shall be punished. Your daughter
Danae shall have a son, and by that son's hands you shall die. So
the gods have ordained, and it will surely come to pass."

And at that Acrisius was very much afraid; but he did not mend his
ways. He had been cruel to his own family, and, instead of repenting
and being kind to them, he went on to be more cruel than ever: for
he shut up his fair daughter Danae in a cavern underground, lined
with brass, that no one might come near her. So he fancied himself
more cunning than the gods: but you will see presently whether he
was able to escape them.

Now it came to pass that in time a son came to Danae: so beautiful a
babe that any but King Acrisius would have had pity on it. But he
had no pity; for he took Danae and her babe down to the seashore,
and put them into a great chest and thrust them out to sea, for the
winds and the waves to carry them whithersoever they would.

The northwest wind blew freshly out of the blue mountains, and down
the pleasant vale of Argos, and away and out to sea. And away and
out to sea before it floated the mother and her babe, while all who
watched them wept, save that cruel father, King Acrisius.

So they floated on and on, and the chest danced up and down upon the
billows, and the baby slept upon its mother's breast: but the poor
mother could not sleep, but watched and wept, and she sang to her
baby as they floated; and the song which she sang you shall learn
yourselves some day.

And now they are past the last blue headland, and in the open sea;
and there is nothing round them but the waves, and the sky, and the
wind. But the waves are gentle, and the sky is clear, and the breeze
is tender and low.

So a night passed, and a day, and a long day it was for Danae; and
another night and day beside, till Danae was faint with hunger and
weeping, and yet no land appeared. And all the while the babe slept
quietly; and at last poor Danae drooped her head and fell asleep
likewise with her cheek against the babe's.

After a while she was awakened suddenly; for the chest was jarring
and grinding, and the air was full of sound. She looked up, and over
her head were mighty cliffs, all red in the setting sun, and around
her rocks and breakers, and flying flakes of foam. She clasped her
hands together, and shrieked aloud for help. And when she cried,
help met her: for now there came over the rocks a tall and stately
man, and looked down wonderingly upon poor Danae tossing about in
the chest among the waves.

He wore a rough cloak of frieze, and on his head a broad hat to
shade his face; in his hand he carried a trident for spearing fish,
and over his shoulder was a casting-net; but Danae could see that he
was no common man by his stature, and his walk, and his flowing
golden hair and beard; and by the two servants who came behind him,
carrying baskets for his fish. But she had hardly time to look at
him before he had laid aside his trident and leapt down the rocks,
and thrown his casting-net so surely over Danae and the chest, that
he drew it, and her, and the baby, safe upon a ledge of rock.

Then the fisherman took Danae by the hand, and lifted her out of the
chest, and said:

"O beautiful damsel, what strange chance has brought you to this
island in so frail a ship? Who are you, and whence? Surely you are
some King's daughter and this boy has somewhat more than mortal."

And as he spoke he pointed to the babe; for its face shone like the
morning star.

But Danae only held down her head, and sobbed out:

"Tell me to what land I have come, unhappy that I am; and among what
men I have fallen!"

And he said, "This isle is called Seriphos, and I am a Hellen, and
dwell in it. I am the brother of Polydectes the King; and men call
me Dictys the netter, because I catch the fish of the shore."

Then Danae fell down at his feet, and embraced his knees and cried:

"Oh, sir, have pity upon a stranger, whom a cruel doom has driven to
your land; and let me live in your house as a servant; but treat me
honourably, for I was once a king's daughter, and this my boy (as
you have truly said) is of no common race. I will not be a charge to
you, or eat the bread of idleness; for I am more skilful in weaving
and embroidery than all the maidens of my land."

And she was going on; but Dictys stopped her, and raised her up, and
said:

"My daughter, I am old, and my hairs are growing grey; while I have
no children to make my home cheerful. Come with me then, and you
shall be a daughter to me and to my wife, and this babe shall be our
grandchild. For I fear the gods, and show hospitality to all
strangers; knowing that good deeds, like evil ones, always return to
those who do them."

So Danae was comforted, and went home with Dictys the good
fisherman, and was a daughter to him and to his wife.

Fifteen years were passed and gone and the babe was now grown to a
tall lad and a sailor, and went many voyages after merchandise to
the islands round. His mother called him Perseus; but all the people
in Seriphos said that he was not the son of mortal man, and called
him Zeus, the son of the king of the Immortals. For though he was
but fifteen, he was taller by a head than any man in the island; and
he was the most skilful of all in running and wrestling and boxing,
and in throwing the quoit and the javelin, and in rowing with the
oar, and in playing on the harp, and in all which befits a man. And
he was brave and truthful, gentle and courteous, for good old Dictys
had trained him well; and well it was for Perseus that he had done
so.

Now one day at Samos, while the ship was lading, Perseus wandered
into a pleasant wood to get out of the sun, and sat down on the turf
and fell asleep. And as he slept a strange dream came to him--the
strangest dream which he had ever had in his life.

There came a lady to him through the wood, taller than he, or any
mortal man; but beautiful exceedingly, with grey eyes, clear and
piercing, but strangely soft and mild. On her head was a helmet, and
in her hand a spear. And over her shoulder, above her long blue
robes, hung a goat-skin, which bore up a mighty shield of brass,
polished like a mirror. She stood and looked at him with her clear
grey eyes; and Perseus saw that her eyelids never moved, nor her
eyeballs, but looked straight through and through him, and into his
very heart, as if she could see all the secrets of his soul, and
knew all that he had ever thought or longed for since the day that
he was born. And Perseus dropped his eyes, trembling and blushing,
as the wonderful lady spoke.

"Perseus, you must do an errand for me."

"Who are you, lady? And how do you know my name?"

"I am Pallas Athene; and I know the thoughts of all men's hearts,
and discern their manhood or their baseness. And from the souls of
clay I turn away, and they are blest, but not by me. They fatten at
ease, like sheep in the pasture, and eat what they did not sow, like
oxen in the stall. They grow and spread, like the gourd along the
ground; but, like the gourd, they give no shade to the traveller,
and when they are ripe death gathers them, and they go down unloved
into hell, and their name vanishes out of the land.

"But to the souls of fire I give more fire, and to those who are
manful I give a might more than man's. These are the heroes, the
sons of the Immortals who are blest, but not like the souls of clay.
For I drive them forth by strange paths, Perseus, that they may
fight the Titans and the monsters, the enemies of gods and men.
Through doubt and need, danger and battle, I drive them; and some of
them are slain in the flower of youth, no man knows when or where;
and some of them win noble names, and a fair and green old age; but
what will be their latter end I know not, and none, save Zeus, the
father of gods and men. Tell me now, Perseus, which of these two
sorts of men seem to you more blest?"

Then Perseus answered boldly: "Better to die in the flower of youth,
on the chance of winning a noble name, than to live at ease like the
sheep, and die unloved and unrenowned."

Then that strange lady laughed, and held up her brazen shield, and
cried: "See here, Perseus; dare you face such a monster as this, and
slay it, that I may place its head upon this shield?"

And in the mirror of the shield there appeared a face and as Perseus
looked on it his blood ran cold. It was the face of a beautiful
woman; but her cheeks were pale as death, and her brows were knit
with everlasting pain, and her lips were thin and bitter like a
snake's; and, instead of hair, vipers wreathed about her temples,
and shot out their forked tongues; while round her head were folded
wings like an eagle's, and upon her bosom claws of brass.

And Perseus looked awhile, and then said: "If there is anything so
fierce and foul on earth, it were a noble deed to kill it. Where can
I find the monster?"

Then the strange lady smiled again, and said: "Not yet; you are too
young, and too unskilled; for this is Medusa the Gorgon, the mother
of a monstrous brood."

And Perseus said, "Try me; for since you spoke to me a new soul has
come into my breast, and I should be ashamed not to dare anything
which I can do. Show me, then, how I can do this!"

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