THE RED BOOK OF HEROES
BY
MRS. LANG
EDITED BY ANDREW LANG
WITH 8 COLOURED PLATES AND
NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. WALLIS MILLS
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
1909
All rights reserved
PREFACE
'Life is not all beer and skittles,' said a reflectivesportsman, and all books are not fairy tales. In animperfect state of existence, 'the peety of it is that wecannot have all things as we would like them.' Undeniablywe would like all books to be fairy tales ornovels, and at present most of them are. But there isanother side to things, and we must face it. '"Life isreal, life is earnest," as Tennyson tells us,' said an oratorto whom I listened lately, and though Longfellow, notTennyson, wrote the famous line quoted by the earnestspeaker, yet there is a good deal of truth in it. Theword 'earnest,' like many other good words, has beenoverdone. It is common to sneer at 'earnest workers,'yet where would we be without them, especially in ourclimate?
In a Polynesian island, where the skies for eversmile, and the blacks for ever dance, earnestness is superfluous.The bread-fruit tree delivers its rolls punctuallyevery morning, strawberries or other fruits, as nice,spring beneath the feet of the dancers; the cavern inthe forest provides a roof and shelter from the sun; thesea supplies a swimming-bath, and man, in time of peace,has only to enjoy himself, eat and drink, laugh and love,[Pg vi]sing songs and tell fairy tales. His drapery is woven offragrant flowers, nobody is poor and anxious about food,nobody is rich and afraid of losing his money, nobodyneeds to think of helping others; he has only to put forthhis hand, or draw his bow or swing his fishing-rod, andhelp himself. To be sure, in time of war, man hasjust got to be earnest, and think out plans for catchingand spearing his enemies, and drill his troops and improvehis weapons, in fact to do some work, or have histhroat cut, and be put in the oven and eaten. Thus itis really hard for the most fortunate people to avoidbeing earnest now and then.
The people whose stories are told in this book werevery different from each other in many ways. Thechild abbess, Mère Angélique, ruling her convent, and atwar with naughty abbesses who hated being earnest, doesnot at once remind us of Hannibal. The great Montrose,with his poems and his scented love-locks, hisdevotion to his cause, his