It may seem strange that an outlaw, a thief and a robber, should be a
favorite theme of song and of story, and continue to command the respect
of mankind for centuries after the period of his existence: yet such is
the fact in respect to the subject of the present sketch. He was born at
Lockslay, near Nottingham, about the year 1150, and flourished during
the time of Richard I. of England.
Nearly a century before this, William of Normandy had conquered England,
and established the Norman sway in that realm. The great estates passed
into the hands of French chiefs and barons; and while nearly all the
higher ranks of society, at the period of which we speak, were French,
the other classes consisted of native Saxons. Between these distinct
races and orders, a natural jealousy existed, which was in no small
degree cherished by the laws and policy of the government, which tended
at once to oppress the people and extend the privileges of the nobles.
The game laws, which punished those who should kill game in the royal
forests, by putting out the eyes, and other mutilations, excited the
deepest indignation. The yeomanry of the country were, at this time,
universally trained in the use of the bow, and, notwithstanding the
severity of the laws, those living around the king's parks frequently
shot the game. These persons were so numerous, that they finally
associated together in considerable bands, for mutual protection. Many
of them devoted themselves entirely to robbing the parks, and became not
only skilful in the use of the bow, but familiar with the recesses and
hiding-places of the forests, and expert in every device, either for
plunder, concealment, or escape.
Of all the leaders of these several bands, Robin Hood became the most
famous; for he was not only bold and skilful in forest craft, but he
appears to have been guided by noble and patriotic sentiments. According
to one of the many ballads which set forth his adventures, he displayed
his courage and dexterity at a very early age.
"Robin Hood would into Nottingham go,
When the summer days were fine,
And there he saw fifteen foresters bold,
A drinking good ale and wine.
'What news? what news?' said bold Robin Hood,
'The news I fain would know;
If our king hath ordered a shooting match,
I am ready with my bow.'"
The foresters stared at him, and said, "We hold it a scorn for one so
young, presuming to bear a bow, who is not able to draw a string." "I'll
hold you twenty marks," said Robin, "that I will hit a mark a hundred
rods off, and cause a hart to die." "We hold you twenty marks, by our
lady's leave," replied the foresters, "that you neither hit the mark at
that distance, nor kill a hart."
"Then Robin Hood bent his noble bow,
And a broad arrow he let fly;
He hit the mark a hundred rod,
And he caused a hart to die.
The hart did skip, and the hart did leap,
And the hart lay on the ground;
'The wager is mine,' said bold Robin Hood,
'An' 'twere for a thousand pounds.'"
The foresters laughed, and taunted the proud archer, and also refused to
pay the twenty marks, and advised him to be gone, lest blows should
follow. He picked up his arrows and his bow, and was observed to smile
as he retired from these discourteous churls. When at some distance, he
paused,--
"Then Robin he bent his noble bow,
And broad arrows he let flye;
Till fourteen of these fifteen foresters
Upon the ground did lye."
Sherwood forest, near Nottingham, was the chief theatre of Robin Hood's
achievements. At one time he had no less than a hundred archers at his
command, a gallant woodsman, by the name of Little John, being his
particular friend and favorite. There was also among the merry crew, a
mock friar, by the name of Tuck, who appears to have been full of mirth
and humor.
Robin's orders to his men were, always to spare the common people; to
aid and assist the weak; to be scrupulous never to injure or insult a
woman; to be the friend of the poor, the timid, and the oppressed; but
to plunder fat bishops, lazy friars, purse-proud squires, and haughty
barons. His system was, to take from the rich, and give to the poor;
and while he ever observed this rule himself, he enforced it rigorously
among all his followers. His history is full of details in which he
illustrates these principles.
Robin became so notorious at last, that a price was offered for his
apprehension, and several attempts were made to deliver him up; but his
courage and dexterity, or his faithful friends, always saved him. One of
the old ballads relates an adventure with a stout tinker, who, among
others, sought to capture the redoubted outlaw. According to this story,
Robin met him in the greenwood, and bade him good morrow; adding, "pray
where live ye, and what is your trade? I hear there are sad news
stirring." "Aye, indeed!" answered the other; "I am a tinker, and live
at Banbury, and the news of which you speak have not reached me."
"'As for the news,' quoth Robin Hood,
'It is but, as I hear,
Two tinkers were set in the stocks,
For drinking ale and beer.'
'If that be all,' the tinker said,
'As I may say to you,
Your tidings are not worth a groat,
So be they were all true.'"
"Well," said Robin, "I love ale and beer when they are good, with all my
heart, and so the fault of thy brethren is small: but I have told all my
news; now tell me thine."
"'All the news I have,' the tinker said,
'And they are news for good;
It is to seek the bold outlaw,
Whom men call Robin Hood.
I have a warrant from the king,
To take him where I can,
And if you can tell me where he dwells,
I will make of you a man.'"
"That I can readily do," replied the outlaw; "let me look at the
warrant." "Nay, nay," said the tinker, "I'll trust that with no man."
"Well," answered the other, "be it as you please; come with me, and I'll
show you Robin Hood." To accomplish this, Robin took him to an inn,
where the ale and wine were so good and plentiful, and the tinker so
thirsty, that he drank till he fell asleep; and when he awoke, he found
that the outlaw had not only left him to pay the reckoning, which was
beyond his means, but had stolen the king's warrant. "Where is my
friend?" exclaimed the tinker, starting up. "Your friend?" said mine
host; "why, men call him Robin Hood, and he meant you evil when he met
with you." The tinker left his working-bag and hammer as a pledge for
the reckoning, and, snatching up his crab-tree club, sallied out after
Robin. "You'll find him killing the king's deer, I'll be sworn," shouted
the landlord; and, accordingly, among the deer he found him. "What knave
art thou," said the outlaw, "that dare come so near the king of
Sherwood?"
"'No knave, no knave,' the tinker said,
'And that you soon shall know;
Which of us have done most wrong,
My crab-tree staff shall show.'
Then Robin drew his gallant blade,
Made of the trusty steel,
But the tinker he laid on so fast,
That he made Robin reel."
This raised the outlaw's wrath, and he exerted his skill and courage so
well, that the tinker more than once thought of flight; but the man of
Banbury was stubborn stuff, and at last drove Robin to ask a favor.
"'A boon, a boon,' Robin he cries,
'If thou wilt grant it me;'
'Before I'll do 't,' the tinker said,
'I'll hang thee on a tree.'
But the tinker looking him about,
Robin his horn did blow;
Then unto him came Little John,
And brave Will Scarlet too."
"Now what is the matter, master," said Little John, "that you sit thus
by the way-side?" "You may ask the tinker there," said Robin; "he hath
paid me soundly." "I must have a bout with him, then," said the other,
"and see if he can do as much for me." "Hold, hold," cried Robin; "the
tinker's a jovial fellow, and a stout."
"'In manhood he's a mettled man,
And a metal man by trade;
Never thought I that any man
Should have made me so afraid.
And if he will be one of us,
We will take all one fare;
Of gold and good, whate'er we get,
The tinker he shall share.'"
The tinker was not a man of many words; he nodded assent, and added
another bold forester to the ranks of the outlaw.
Robin and his friends were so sharply hunted by the sheriff of
Nottinghamshire, that they deemed it prudent to retire to the forests
of Barnesdale, where they gaily pursued their calling. Their
interference in church matters, in various ways, gave offence to his
reverence, the Bishop of Hereford, who declared that measures should be
taken to repress the insolence of the outlaw, and he promised to look
strictly into the matter the first time he chanced to be near
Barnesdale. It was on a sunny morning that Robin heard of the bishop's
approach, "with all his company," and his joy was excessive.
"'Go, kill me a fat buck,' said bold Robin Hood,
'Go slay me a fair fat deer;
The Bishop of Hereford dines with me to-day,
And he shall pay well for his cheer.'"
Accordingly, the deer was killed and skinned, and laid to the fire, and,
with six of his men habited like shepherds, Robin was pacing round and
round, as the wooden spit with its savory load revolved, when up came
the Bishop of Hereford, who halted, and exclaimed, "What is all this, my
masters? For whom do you make such a feast, and of the king's venison?
Verily, I must look into this." "We are shepherds, simple shepherds,
sir," replied the outlaw meekly. "We keep sheep the whole year round,
and as this is our holiday, we thought there was no harm in holding it
on one of the king's deer, of which there are plenty." "You are fine
fellows," said the bishop, "mighty fine fellows; but the king shall know
of your doings; so quit your roast, for to him you shall go, and that
quickly."
"'O pardon, pardon,' cried bold Robin Hood,
'O pardon of thee I pray;
O it ill becomes a holy bishop's coat,
For to take men's lives away.'
'No pardon, no pardon,' the bishop he said,
'No pardon to thee I owe;
Therefore make haste, for I swear by St. Paul
Before the king you shall go.'"
Upon this, the outlaw sprung back against a tree, and setting his horn
to his mouth, made in a moment all the wood to ring. It was answered, as
usual, by the sudden appearance of threescore and ten of his comrades,
who, with Little John at their head, overpowered the bishop's guard, and
then inquired of Robin what was the matter that he blew a blast so sharp
and startling.
"'O here is the Bishop of Hereford,
And no pardon shall we have;'
'Ho, cut off his head, then,' quoth Little John,
'And I'll go make him a grave.'
'O pardon, pardon,' then cried the bishop,
'O pardon of thee I pray;
O had I known that you were so near,
I'd have gone some other way.'"
Now Robin had no pleasure in shedding blood, but he loved to enjoy the
terrors of those whom he captured: and to keep them in suspense, while
he feasted them on the best, was a favorite practice of his. It was in
this spirit that he now spoke:
"'No pardon, no pardon,' said bold Robin Hood,
'No pardon to thee I owe;
Therefore make haste, for I swear by my bow
That to Barnesdale with me you go.'
Then Robin he took the bishop by the hand,
And led him to merry Barnesdale,
And he supped that night in the clear moonlight,
On the good red wine and ale."
How this was to end, the bishop seems to have had a guess. The parody
which the outlaw made on his threats of carrying him to the king, showed
that he was in a pleasant mood; and the venison collops, and the wine
and ale, all evinced a tendency to mercy; of which, as it was now late,
he took advantage. "I wish, mine host," said the bishop, with a sort of
grave good-nature, "that you would call a reckoning; it is growing late,
and I begin to fear that the cost of such an entertainment will be
high." Here Little John interposed, for Robin affected great ignorance
in domestic matters, leaving the task of fleecing his guests to his
expert dependents. "Lend me your purse, master," said his scrupulous
deputy to the bishop, "and I'll tell you all by-and-by."
"Then Little John took the bishop's cloak,
And spread it upon the ground,
And out of the bishop's portmanteau
He told three hundred pound.
'Here's gold enough, master,' said Little John,
''Tis a comely thing for to see;
It puts me in charity with the good bishop,
Though he heartily loveth not me.'
Robin Hood took the bishop by the hand,
And causing the music to play,
He made the good bishop to dance in his boots,
And glad he could so get away."
If we may put trust in ballad and song, the loss of the three hundred
pounds dwelt on the bishop's mind, and at the head of a fair company he
went in quest of his entertainer. He had well nigh taken Robin by
surprise, for he was upon him before he was aware; but the outlaw
escaped into an old woman's house, to whom he called, "Save my life; I
am Robin Hood, and here comes the bishop, to take me and hang me." "Aye,
that I will," said the old woman, "and not the less willingly that you
gave me hose and shoon, when I greatly needed them." It was thus that
the robber always found friends among the poor, for he was uniformly
their protector and benefactor.
According to one of the ballads, king Edward had become deeply incensed
against Robin, and went to Nottingham to bring him to justice. But in
vain did he seek to get a sight of him; at last, however, dressed in the
disguise of a monk, he met him, and dined with him and his merry men in
the forest. After a time, the king was recognised by the outlaw, who
bent his knee in homage, and, upon an assurance of safety, went with him
to Nottingham, where he was nobly entertained, in the midst of the
court. He soon, however, became sick of this kind of life, and joyfully
returned to the greenwood.
But there is no safeguard against the approach of death. Time and toil
began to do with Robin Hood all that they do with lesser spirits. One
morning he had tried his shafts, and found that they neither flew so far
as they were wont, nor with their usual accuracy of aim; and he thus
addressed Little John, the most faithful of his companions:--
"'I am not able to shoot a shot more,
Mine arrows refuse to flee;
But I have a cousin lives down below,
Who, please God, will bleed me.'"
Now this cousin was prioress of Kirkley Nunnery, in Yorkshire, and seems
to have had no good-will to Robin, whom she doubtless regarded as a
godless and graceless person, who plundered church and churchmen, and
set laws, both sacred and profane, at defiance.
"Now Robin is to fair Kirkley gone,
He knocked low at the ring;
And none came there save his cousin dear,
To let bold Robin in.
'Thrice welcome now, cousin Robin,' she said;
'Come drink some wine with me;'
'No, cousin, I'll neither eat nor drink
Till I blooded am by thee.'"
She took him to a lonely room, and bled him, says the ballad, till one
drop more refused to run: then she locked him in the place, with the
vein unbound, and left him to die. This was in the morning; and the day
was near the close, when Robin, thinking the prioress was long in
returning, tried to rise, but was unable, and, bethinking him of his
bugle when it was too late, snatched it up, and blew three blasts. "My
master must be very ill," said Little John, "for he blows wearily," and,
hurrying to the nunnery, was refused admittance; but, "breaking locks
two or three," he found Robin all but dead, and, falling on his knee,
begged as a boon to be allowed to "burn Kirkley Hall, with all its
nunnery." "Nay, nay," replied Robin, "I never hurt a woman in all my
life, nor yet a man in woman's company. As it has been during my life,
so shall it be at my end."
"'But give me my bent bow in my hand,
A broad arrow I'll let flee,
And where this shaft doth chance to fall,
There shall my grave digged be.
And lay my bent bow by my side,
Which was my music sweet;
And cover my grave with sod so green,
As is both right and meet.
And let me have breadth and length enough,
By the side of yon green wood,
That men may say, when they look on it,
Here lies bold Robin Hood.'"
Having given these directions, he died, and was buried as he directed,
under some fine trees near Kirkley, and a stone with an inscription was
laid on the grave. Little John, it is said, survived only to see his
master buried. His burial-place is claimed by Scotland as well as by
England; but tradition inclines to the grave in the church-yard of
Hathersage.
The bond of union which had held his men so long together, was now
broken; some made their peace with the government, others fled to
foreign parts, and nothing remained of Robin Hood but a name which is to
be found in history, in the drama, in ballads, in songs, in sayings, and
in proverbs.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]