The Hero-Tale
As the child creates a world of fancy and, when left to himself, lives within it, so marvelous deeds and achievements are to him as the daily breath of our own lives. He imagines himself the hero of such wonderful and impossible adventures that when he is told of Phaeton and his mad ride, he accepts it with the same calm appreciation which is accorded the imaginings of his own creative moods. The slaying of the Gorgon is fully in harmony with his own future plans. Not that he believes in these hero tales literally, or comprehends their deeper significance, but they fit in so perfectly with his normal habit of creative fancy that they seem to him as his very own, and he loves them.
The hero-tale appeals as strongly to the child as does the myth—probably more strongly to the boy. Indeed, the myth and hero-tale are often one, for Greek and Norse mythology abound in heroes and heroic adventures, and the lad who pores breathlessly over the thrilling experiences of a Captain Kidd, would find equal delight in the story of the Wooden Horse and the Fall of Troy, were it told him in a manner suited to his age and understanding.
The story of Arion, returning victorious from the great musical contest, and threatened by the mutinous seamen of his vessel, stirs any boy to enthusiasm, as do the adventures of Perseus, who, helped by Minerva and Mercury, slew the Gorgon, Medusa.
In another field there are the merry tales of Robin Hood, the outlaw beloved of boys, with his host of adventurous followers; and the chivalrous deeds of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Stories of the knights appeal to universal boyhood. Well do I remember a story hour in which the compact body of the audience was fringed all about with boys under whose arms were shoe-blacking kits, or bundles of newspapers. They dodged in for a story, and out again for a customer, but with one voice they demanded—it was not a request—“Give us a knight story! Give us a knight story!”
Boys can be kept from reading worthless fiction if books and stories of the right sort are placed in their hands, and the surest way to make these attractive is to give them the contents or a part of the contents in story form first. Make the stories vivid, give them plenty of life and action, and Captain Kidd or Bunco Bill will pale before King Arthur and Ulysses.
The younger children will listen with greatest delight to stories of imaginary heroes, such as abound in folk-lore and myth—Jack the Giant Killer easily leading in favor, as has been proven by statistics.
Children demand definite aims, swift action, prompt reward of the good, and punishment of the evil. They do not understand complex motives nor the slow working out of nature’s retribution. This comes with later years. The story-teller must choose her subjects in accordance with the age of the child. The world of fancy gradually gives way before the world of fact, and there comes a time when the heroes of the myth and the fairy tale are received with a certain degree of scorn. They are “out-grown.” At this period the boy and girl demand heroes of flesh and blood; men who “do and dare” especially appeal to them. There must still be rapid action and swift retribution or reward, but motives begin to be understood more fully, and little by little these motives begin to be less self-centered; they touch an ever-broadening circle.
To follow this circle and select stories which fit its circumference should be the aim of mother and teacher. Here, as everywhere in teaching, the “spontaneous interests” furnish the key for selection.
The range of hero-tales is wide. Among them are the mythological and folk-lore tales previously suggested; the legendary hero-tales which are partly fact and partly fancy, such as the Knights of the Round Table, Robin Hood, and most of the medieval stories; and Bible stories, among which there are a host of heroic characters, whose moral heroism should be made the dominant note.