justice and the sheriff, the mayor of Carlisle, all the constables and
catchpolls, the sergeants of the law, forty foresters, and many more.
This makes the king so sad that he can eat no more; but he wishes to see
these fellows shoot that have wrought all this woe. The king’s archers
and the queen’s go to the butts with the three yeomen, and the outlaws
hit everything that is set up. Cloudesly holds the butts too wide for a
good archer, and the three set up two hazel rods, twenty score paces
apart; he is a good archer, says Cloudesly, that cleaves one of these.
The king says no man can do it; but Cloudesly cleaves the wand. The king
declares him the best archer he ever saw. William says he will do a
greater mastery: he will lay an apple on his son’s head (a boy of
seven), and split it in two at six score paces. The king bids him make
haste so to do: if he fail, he shall be hanged; and if he touch the boy,
the outlaws shall be hanged, all three. Cloudesly ties the child to a
stake, turning its face from him, sets an apple on its head, and,
begging the people to remain quiet, cleaves the apple in two. The king
gives Cloudesly eighteen pence a day as his bowman, and makes him chief
rider over the North Country. The queen adds twelve pence, makes him a
gentleman of cloth and fee and his two brothers yeomen of her chamber,
gives the boy a place in her wine-cellar, and appoints Alice her chief
gentlewoman and governess of her nursery. The yeomen express their
thanks, go to Rome [to some bishop, in the later copy] to be absolved of
their sins, live the rest of their lives with the king, and die good
men, all three.
The rescue of Robin Hood by Little John and Much in No 117, sts 61–82,
has a general resemblance to the rescue of Cloudesly by Adam and Clim in
this ballad, st. 52 ff. The rescue of Will Stutly has also some slight
similarity: cf. No 141, sts 26–33, and 70, 79–81, of ‘Adam Bell.’
The shooting of an apple from a boy’s head, sts 151–62, is, as is well
known, a trait in several German and Norse traditions, and these
particular feats, as well as everything resembling them, have been a
subject of eager discussion in connection with the apocryphal history of
William Tell.
The Icelandic saga of Dietrich of Bern, compiled, according to the
prologue, from Low German tales and ballads, narrates that young Egil, a
brother of Weland the Smith, came to Nidung’s court with the fame of
being the best bowman in the world. Nidung, to prove his skill, required
Egil [on pain of death] to shoot an apple from the head of his son, a
child of three years, only one trial being permitted. Egil split the
apple in the middle. Though allowed but one chance, Egil had provided
himself with three arrows. When asked why, he answered the king that the
two others were meant for him, if he had hit the boy with the first.
Saga Ðiðriks Konungs af Bern, ed. Unger, c. 75, p. 90 f; Peringskiöld,
Wilkina Saga, c. 27, p. 63 f; Raszmann, Die Deutsche Heldensage, II, 247
f; the Swedish rifacimento, Sagan om Didrik af Bern, ed.
Hyltén-Cavallius, c. 73, p. 54. The Icelandic saga was composed about
1250.
Saxo, writing about 1200, relates nearly the same incidents of Toko, a
man in the service of King Harold Bluetooth († c. 985). Toko, while
drinking with comrades, had bragged that he was good enough bowman to
hit the smallest apple on top of a stick at the first shot. This boast
was carried to the king, who exacted a fulfilment of it on pain of
death; but the apple was to be set on the head of Toko’s son. The father
exhorted the boy to stand perfectly still, and, to make this easier,
turned the child’s face from the direction of the shot; then, laying out
three arrows from his quiver, executed the required feat. When the king
asked why he had taken three arrows, Toko replied, To wreak the miss of
the first with the points of the others. Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta
Danorum, Book x, ed. Holder, p. 329 f.
The White Book of Obwalden, written about 1470, informs us that Tell, a
good archer, having refused to bow to Gesler’s hat, was ordered by the
landvogt to shoot an apple from the head of one of his children. Unable
to resist, Tell laid-by a second arrow, shot the apple from the child’s
head, and being asked why he had reserved the other arrow, replied that
if the first had missed he would have shot Gesler or one of his men with
the second.[10]
This story is introduced into a piece of verse on the origin of the
Swiss confederacy, of nearly the same date as the prose document. In
this the landvogt says to Tell that if he does not hit with the first
shot, it will cost him his life; the distance is one hundred and twenty
paces, as in the English ballad, and Tell says simply that he would have
shot the landvogt if he had hit his son.[11] (Tell uses a cross-bow, not
the long-bow, as the English.)
Henning Wulf, a considerable person in Holstein, who had headed an
unsuccessful outbreak against Christian the First of Denmark, was
captured and brought before the king. The king, knowing Henning to be an
incomparable archer, ordered him to shoot an apple from the head of his
only son, a child: if he succeeded, he was to go free. The exploit was
happily accomplished. But Henning had put a second arrow into his mouth,
and the king asked the object. The second arrow was for the king, had
the boy been hit. Henning Wulf was outlawed. The story, which is put at
1472, is the subject of a painting preserved in a church.[12]
The Norwegian king, Haraldr Harðráðr († 1066), who has a grudge against
Hemingr, son of Áslákr, undertakes to put him to proof in shooting,
swimming, and snow-shoe sliding. They go to a wood, and both execute
extraordinary feats with bow and lance; but Hemingr is much superior to
the king. The king orders Hemingr to shoot a nut from his brother
Björn’s head, on pain of death for missing. Hemingr would rather die
than venture such a shot; but his brother offers himself freely, and
undertakes to stand still. Then let the king stand by Björn, says
Hemingr, and see whether I hit. But the king prefers to stand by
Hemingr, and appoints somebody else to the other position. Hemingr
crosses himself, calls God to witness that the king is responsible,
throws his lance, and strikes the nut from his brother’s head, doing him
no harm. Hemings Ðáttr, Flateyjarbók, III, 405 f (1370–80); Müller,
Sagabibliothek, III, 356 ff. This story was probably derived from an old
song, and is preserved in Norwegian and Färöe ballads: ‘Harald kongin og
Hemingen unge,’ Landstad, Norske Folkeviser, No 15, #A#, #B#, pp.
177–188; ‘Geyti Áslaksson,’ Hammershaimb, Færöiske Kvæder, No 17, #A-C#,
II, 149–163. In Norwegian #A#, 5–10, the shot is exacted under pain of
imprisonment. Hemingen insists that the king shall take a place near his
brother [son], whom he exhorts to stand erect and bold; one half of the
nut falls, the other is left on the head; the king asks what was to have
been done with a second arrow which Hemingen had secreted, and is
answered as in the previous cases.[13] The first and last of these
incidents are wanting in #B# (19–22). In the Färöe ballad, #A#, 53–62,
the king tells Geyti (whom he also calls Hemingur) that he must shoot a
nut from his brother’s head. Geyti asks the king to go to the wood with
him to see the result, invokes God and St Olav, hits the nut without
touching his brother. It is not till the next day that the king asks
Geyti why he had _two_ arrows with him in the wood.
The same story, pleasingly varied for the occasion, is found in the saga
of the Norwegian king Ólafr Tryggvason († 1000). The king hears that
Eindriði, a handsome, rich, and amiable young man, is unconverted.
Eindriði is a good swimmer, bowman, and dirk-thrower. Ólafr, a
proficient in all such exercises, proposes to try masteries with him in
the feats which he has repute for, on the terms that if Eindriði is
beaten he shall be baptized, but if victor shall hold such faith as he
will. The first trial is in swimming, and in this Ólafr shows
unequivocal superiority. The next day they shoot at a target, and the
advantage, after two essays, is rather with Eindriði. The king
compliments Eindriði; but the issue between them is not yet decided.
This fine young fellow’s salvation is at stake, and expedients which one
might otherwise scruple at are justifiable. Ólafr knows that Eindriði
tenderly loves a pretty child, four or five years old, his sister’s son.
This boy shall be our target, says the king. A chessman (the king-piece)
on his head shall be the mark, to be shot off without hurting the boy.
Eindriði must needs submit, but means to have revenge if the child comes
to harm. The king orders a cloth to be passed round the boy’s head, each
end of which is to be held firmly by a man, so as to prevent any
stirring when the whiz of the arrow is heard. Ólafr signs both himself
and the point of his arrow with the cross, and shoots; the arrow takes
off the chessman, passing between it and the head, grazing the crown and
drawing some little blood. The king bids Eindriði take his turn; but
Eindriði’s mother and sister beg him with tears to desist, and he,
though ready to take the risk, yields to their entreaties, and leaves
the victory with Ólafr. On the third day there is a match at a game with
dirks. For a time no one can say which does the better; but in the end
Ólafr performs feats so marvellous as in Eindriði’s conviction to
demonstrate the assistance of a deity: wherefore he consents to be
baptized. Saga Ólafs Tryggvasonar, Fornmanna Sögur, II, 259–74, c. 235;
Flateyjarbók, I, 456–64, cc. 359–64.
Punker, a warlock of Rorbach (a town not far from Heidelberg), had
obtained from the devil, as the regular recompense for his having thrice
pierced the crucifix, the power of making three unerring shots daily,
and had so been able to pick off in detail all but one of the garrison
of a besieged town. To put his skill to proof, a certain nobleman
ordered him to shoot a piece of money from his own son’s head. Punker
wished to be excused, for he feared that the devil might play him false;
but being induced to make the trial, knocked the coin from the boy’s
cap, doing him no damage. Before shooting, he had stuck another arrow
into his collar, and asked why, replied that if the devil had betrayed
him, and he had killed the child, he would have sent the other bolt
through the body of the person who had obliged him to undertake the
performance. Malleus Maleficarum, Pars II, Quæstio I, c. xvi.[14] The
date of the transaction is put at about 1420.
The last three forms of this tradition have the unimportant variations
of brother and brother, or uncle and nephew, for father and son, and of
nut, chessman, or coin for apple.
The story is German-Scandinavian, and not remarkably extended.[15] The
seven versions agree in two points: the shot is compulsory; the archer
meditates revenge in case he harms the person on whose head the mark is
placed.[16] These features are wanting in the English ballad. William of
Cloudesly offers of his own free motion to shoot an apple from his son’s
head, and this after the king had declared him the best archer he had
ever seen, for splitting a hazel-rod at twenty score paces; so that the
act was done purely for glory. To be sure, the king threatens him with
death if he does not achieve what he has undertaken, as death is also
threatened in four of the seven German-Scandinavian stories for refusal
to try the shot or for missing; but the threats in sts 154 f of the
English ballad are a revival of the vow in sts 119 f. Justice has been
balked by the unconditional boon granted the queen; aggravating and
exasperating circumstances have come to light since this unadvised grace
was conceded, and a hope is presented for a pretext under which the king
may still hang the outlaws, all three. The shooting of the apple from
the boy’s head, isolated from any particular connection, is perhaps all
of the German-Scandinavian story that was known to the English
ballad-maker, and all minor resemblances may well be fortuitous.[17]
If the shooting of an apple by somebody from somebody’s head is to be
regarded as the kernel of the story, its area may then be considerably
extended.
Castrén heard the following story among the Finns in Russian Karelia.
Robbers had carried a man off over a lake. The son of the captive, a boy
of twelve, followed along the other side of the lake, threatening to
shoot them if they did not let his father go. These threats, for a time,
only procured worse treatment for the prisoner; but at last the boy was
told that his father should be released if he could shoot an arrow
across the water and split an apple laid on his father’s head. This the
boy did, and his father was liberated. Castrén’s Reiseerinnerungen aus
den Jahren 1838–44, ed. Schiefner, p. 89 f.
A Persian poet introduces into a work composed about 1175 this
anecdote.[18] A distinguished king was very fond of a beautiful slave,
so much so that he was never easy unless he was in some way engaged with
him. When the king amused himself with shooting, this slave would
tremble with fear, for the king would make his mark of an apple placed
on his favorite’s head, split the apple, and in so doing make the slave
sick with alarm.
J. Grimm had seen a manuscript of travels in Turkey, in the Cassel
library, with a picture of an archer aiming at an apple on a child’s
head. Deutsche Mythologie, I, 317, note, ed. 1875.
With regard to the Persian story, Benfey observes that it must be
admitted as possible that the shooting of an apple from the head of a
beloved person may have been pitched upon in various localities,
independently, as the mark of supreme skill in archery, but that this is
not likely, and that the history of tradition requires us rather to
presume that the conception was original in one instance only, and
borrowed in the remainder; in which case the borrowing would be by the
West from the East, and not the other way. We can come to no decision,
however, he adds, until the source of the Persian story, or some older
form of it, shall have been discovered. (Göttinger Gelehrte Anzeigen,
1861, p. 680.) The cautiousness of the imperial scholar is worthy of all
imitation. The Persian saga, as it is sometimes called, is, in the
perhaps mutilated form in which we have it, an inconsistent and inept
anecdote; the German-Scandinavian saga is a complete and rational story.
In this story it is fundamental that the archer executes a successful
shot under circumstances highly agitating to the nerves; he risks the
life of a beloved object, and in the majority of versions his own life
is at stake besides. That the act must be done under compulsion is the
simplest corollary. If the archer is cool enough to volunteer the shot,
then the chief difficulty in making it is removed. This is a fault in
the English ballad, where the father is unconcerned, and all the feeling
is shown by the spectators. Cloudesly had already split a hazel-rod at
twenty score paces; what was it for him to hit an apple at six
score?[19]
But we are still far from covering the range of stories which have been
treated as having some significant relation to that of Egil. Any shot at
an apple, any shot at an object on a child’s person (provided the case
be not a fact and recent), has been thought worth quoting, as a probable
sprout from the same root. For examples: In an Esthonian popular tale,
one Sharpeye hits an apple which a man a long way off is holding by his
mouth. In a Servian poem, the hero, Milosch, sends an arrow through a
ring, and hits a golden apple on the point of a lance. Bellerophon’s
sons, Hippolochus and Isandrus, disputing which should be king of the
Lycians, it was proposed that the question should be settled by seeing
which could shoot through a ring placed on the breast of a child lying
on his back. Laodamia, sister of the competitors, offered her son
Sarpedon for the trial, and the uncles, to show their appreciation of
such handsome behavior, resigned their claims in favor of Sarpedon. The
shot, we may understand, did not come off.[20]
With regard to all this series of stories, and others which have been
advanced as allied, more will be required to make out a substantial
relationship than their having in common a shot at some object in
contiguity with a living human body, be the object an apple, or whatever
else. The idea of thus enhancing the merit or interest of a shot is not
so ingenious that one instance must be held to be original, and all
others derivative. The archer Alcon, according to Servius,[21] was wont
to shoot through rings placed on men’s heads. Sir John Malcolm (Kaye’s
Life, II, 400) was told that at Mocha, when the dates were ripe, a
stone, standing up some three inches, would be put on the head of a
child, at which two or three of the best marksmen would fire, with ball,
at thirty-one yards distance. A case was reported, about fifty years
ago, of a man in Pennsylvania shooting a very small apple from the head
of another man.[22] A linen-weaver was judicially punished at Spires,
some thirty years ago, for shooting a sheet of paper from his son’s
hand, and afterwards a potato (“also einen Erdapfel,” Rochholz!) from
the boy’s head.[23] The keel-boat men of the Mississippi, in their
playfulness, would cut the pipe out of a companion’s hat-band at a long
distance. “If they quarreled among themselves, and then made friends,
their test that they bore no malice was to shoot some small object from
each other’s heads,” such as an apple. Such feats have of late been
common on the American stage.
Whatever may be thought of the linen-weaver at Spires, it will scarcely
be maintained that the Mississippi keel-boat men shot at apples in
imitation of William Tell. As to the selection of an apple, it seems
enough to say that an apple makes a convenient mark, is familiar to
temperate climates, and at hand at almost any part of the year.[24] But
the chief point of all to be borne in mind is, that whether the
Mississippi boatmen took their cue, directly or indirectly, from William
Tell, they do not become mythical personages by virtue of their
repeating his shot. None the more does William of Cloudesly. A story
long current in Europe, a mythical story if you please, could certainly
be taken up by an English ballad-maker without prejudice to the
substantial and simply romantic character of his hero.[25]
The late Mr Joseph Hunter unhesitatingly declared Adam Bell “a genuine
personage of history,” and considered that he had had “the good fortune
to recover from a very authentic source of information some particulars
of this hero of our popular minstrelsy which show distinctly the time at
which he lived.”
“King Henry the Fourth, by letters enrolled in the Exchequer, in Trinity
Term, in the seventh year of his reign [1406], and bearing date the 14th
day of April, granted to one Adam Bell an annuity of 4_l._ 10_s._
issuing out of the fee-farm of Clipston, in the forest of Sherwood,
together with the profits and advantages of the vesture and herbage of
the garden called the Halgarth, in which the manor-house of Clipston is
situated.
“Now, as Sherwood is noted for its connection with archery, and may be
regarded also as the _patria_ of much of the ballad poetry of England,
and the name of Adam Bell is a peculiar one, this might be almost of
itself sufficient to show that the ballad had a foundation in veritable
history. But we further find that this Adam Bell violated his allegiance
by adhering to the Scots, the king’s enemies; whereupon this grant was
virtually resumed, and the sheriff of Nottinghamshire accounted for the
rents which would have been his. In the third year of King Henry the
Fifth [1416], the account was rendered by Thomas Hercy, and in the
fourth year by Simon Leak. The mention of his adhesion to the Scots
leads us to the Scottish border, and will not leave a doubt in the mind
of the most sceptical that we have here one of the persons, some of
whose deeds (with some poetical license, perhaps) are come down to us in
the words of one of our popular ballads.” (New Illustrations of the
Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare, I, 245 f, 1845.)
Mr Hunter’s points are, that an Adam Bell had a grant from the proceeds
of a farm in the forest of Sherwood, that Adam Bell is a peculiar name,
and that his Adam Bell adhered to the king’s enemies. To be sure, Adam
Bell’s retreat in the ballad is not Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire, but
Englishwood, or Inglewood, in Cumberland (an old hunting-ground of King
Arthur’s, according to several romances), a forest sixteen miles in
length, reaching from Carlisle to Penrith.[26] But it would be captious
to insist upon this. Robin Hood has no connection in extant ballads with
the Cumberland forest, but Wyntoun’s Scottish Chronicle, c. 1420, makes
him to have frequented Inglewood as well as Barnsdale.[27] The
historical Adam Bell was granted an annuity, and forfeited it for
adhering to the king’s enemies, the Scots; the Adam Bell of the ballad
was outlawed for breaking the game-laws, and in consequence came into
conflict with the king’s officers, but never adhered to the king’s
enemies, first or last, received the king’s pardon, was made yeoman of
the queen’s chamber, dwelt with the king, and died a good man. Neither
is there anything peculiar in the name Adam Bell. Bell was as well known
a name on the borders[28] as Armstrong or Graham. There is record of an
Adam Armstrong and an Adam Graham; there is a Yorkshire Adam Bell
mentioned in the Parliamentary Writs (II, 508, 8 and 17 Edward II,) a
hundred years before Hunter’s annuitant; a contemporary Adam Bell, of
Dunbar, is named in the Exchequer Rolls of Scotland under the years
1414, 1420 (IV, 198, 325); and the name occurs repeatedly at a later
date in the Registers of the Great Seal of Scotland.
The placability of the king in this ballad is repeated in the Gest of
Robin Hood, and is also exhibited in the Tale of Gamelyn, where Gamelyn
is made justice of all the free forest, as William is here made chief
rider over all the North Country. The king, besides, forgives all
Gamelyn’s eight young men, and puts them in good office. The king of the
outlaws, in the tale, had previously made his peace without any
difficulty. Vv 888–94, 687–89.
Translated, after Percy’s Reliques, by Bodmer, II, 78; by Fouqué,
Büsching, Erzählungen, u. s. w., des Mittelalters, I, 1; the third Fit,
by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Altenglands, No 70.
#c.# 1
Mery it was in grene forest,
Amonge the leues grene,
Where that men walke both east a_n_d west,
Wyth bowes and arrowes kene,
2
To ryse the dere out of theyr denne;
Suche sightes as hath ofte bene sene,
As by th[r]e yemen of the north countrey,
By them it is as I meane.
3
The one of them hight Adam Bel,
The other Clym of the Clough,
The thyrd was William of Cloudesly,
An archer good ynough.
4
They were outlawed for venyson,
These thre yemen euerechone;
They swore them brethen vpon a day,
To Englysshe-wood for to gone.
5
Now lith and lysten, gentylmen,
And that of myrthes loueth to here:
Two of them were single men,
The third had a wedded fere.
6
Wyllyam was the wedded man,
Muche more then was hys care:
He sayde to hys brethen vpon a day,
To Carelel he would fare,
7
For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife,
And with hys chyldren thre:
‘By my trouth,’ sayde Adam Bel,
‘Not by the counsell of me.
8
‘For if ye go to Caerlel, brother,
And from thys wylde wode wende,
If the justice mai you take,
Your lyfe were at an ende.’
9
‘If that I come not to morowe, brother,
By pryme to you agayne,
Truste not els but that I am take,
Or else that I am slayne.’
10
He toke hys leaue of hys brethen two,
And to Carlel he is gone;
There he knocked at hys owne wyndowe,
Shortlye and anone.
11
‘Wher be you, fayre Alyce, my wyfe,
And my chyldren three?
Lyghtly let in thyne husbande,
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’
12
‘Alas!’ then sayde fayre Alyce,
And syghed wonderous sore,
‘Thys place hath ben besette for you
Thys halfe yere and more.’
13
‘Now am I here,’ sayde Cloudesle,
‘I woulde that I in were;
Now feche vs meate and drynke ynoughe,
And let vs make good chere.’
14
She feched him meat and drynke plenty,
Lyke a true wedded wyfe,
And pleased hym with that she had,
Whome she loued as her lyfe.
15
There lay an old wyfe in that place,
A lytle besyde the fyre,
Whych Wyllyam had found, of cherytye,
More then seuen yere.
16
Up she rose, and walked full styll,
Euel mote she spede therefoore!
For she had not set no fote on ground
In seuen yere before.
17
She went vnto the justice hall,
As fast as she could hye:
‘Thys nyght is come vn to thys town
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’
18
Thereof the iustice was full fayne,
And so was the shirife also:
‘Thou shalt not trauaile hether, da_m_e, for nought;
Thy meed thou shalt haue or thou go.’