rtant individually.
The word Hero is one of those Greek words which have been adopted into
all European languages, because they signify precisely a universal
idea of the thing. He must be strong and able in battle, for a lost
fight might mean the death or slavery of all his people. If the hero
does his living and dying in a noble fashion, the folk trouble
themselves very moderately about minor questions of religion or
ethics, and are very moderately scandalised by occasional ferocity.
Such a man is not to be hampered by ordinary rules; he is like a
general commanding in the field, who may do anything for the
preservation of his army, and the consequence is that he is seldom
expected to moralise. He acknowledges and pays great honour to the
cardinal virtues of truth-speaking, mutual fidelity, hospitality,
strict observance of pledges. He is in many ways a religious man;
though he is apt to break away from the priests when they interfere
seriously with the business in hand. For the chastity of wives he has
a high esteem, yet although he and his people are constantly brought
into trouble about women, he is tolerant of them, even when their
behaviour is what might be called regrettable; he treats them in some
degree as irresponsible beings, on the ground, perhaps, that they are
the only non-combatants in the world as he knows it, and that this
gives them special privileges. We can measure the importance of such a
personage in ancient days, by the noise which a first-class hero made
in the primitive world. He became literally and figuratively immortal:
he was regarded as a god, or at least godlike--the greatest of them
were actually deified. He was seized upon by fable, myth, miraculous
legend, and poetry--his name was handed down for centuries until the
heroic lineaments were softened down, disfigured, and at last faded
away in the magical haze of later Romance. But in very rare instances
he had the good luck to be taken in hand, before it was too late, by
some man of genius, who knew the temper of heroic times because he
lived within range of them, and who has preserved for us a story, an
incident, or a typical character--not, indeed, an authentic narrative,
for the true story disappears under the tradition which is built over
it; nor would such accurate knowledge be of much use to the poet,
whose business it is only to give us a fine spirited account of what
might have occurred. For the evidence that an ancient battle wa
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