THE LIFE OF ROBIN HOOD.

T will scarcely be expected that one should be able to offer an authentic narrative of the life and transactions of this extraordinary personage. The times in which he lived, the mode of life he adopted, and the silence or loss of contemporary writers, are circumstances sufficiently favourable, indeed, to romance, but altogether inimical to historical truth. The reader must, therefore, be contented with such a detail, however scanty or imperfect, as a zealous pursuit of the subject enables one to give; and which, though it may fail to satisfy, may possibly serve to amuse.

No assistance has been derived from the labours of his professed biographers (1);1 and even the {ii} industrious Sir John Hawkins, from whom the public might have expected ample gratification upon the subject, acknowledges that “the history of this popular hero is but little known, and all the scattered fragments concerning him, could they be brought together, would fall far short of satisfying such an inquirer as none but real and authenticated facts will content. We must,” he says, “take his story as we find it.” He accordingly gives us nothing but two or three trite and trivial extracts, with which every one at all curious about the subject was as well acquainted as himself. It is not, at the same time, pretended, that the present attempt promises more than to bring together the scattered fragments to which the learned historian alludes. This, however, has been done, according to the best of the compiler’s information and abilities; and the result is, with a due sense of the deficiency of both, submitted to the reader’s candour.

ROBIN HOOD was born at Locksley, in the county of Nottingham (2), in the reign of King Henry the Second, and about the year of Christ 1160 (3). His extraction was noble, and his true name ROBERT FITZOOTH, which vulgar pronunciation easily corrupted into ROBIN HOOD (4). He is frequently styled, and commonly reputed to have been, EARL OF HUNTINGDON; a title to which, in the latter part of his life, at least, he actually appears to have had some sort of pretension (5). In his youth he {iii} is reported to have been of a wild and extravagant disposition; insomuch that, his inheritance being consumed or forfeited by his excesses, and his person outlawed for debt, either from necessity or choice, he sought an asylum in the woods and forests, with which immense tracts, especially in the northern parts of the kingdom, were at that time covered (6). Of these, he chiefly affected Barnsdale, in Yorkshire, Sherwood, in Not­ting­ham­shire, and, according to some, Plompton Park, in Cumberland (7). Here he either found, or was afterward joined by, a number of persons in similar circumstances—

“Such as the fury of ungovern’d youth

Thrust from the company of awful men,” (8)

who appear to have considered and obeyed him as their chief or leader, and of whom his principal favourites, or those in whose courage and fidelity he most confided, where Little John (whose surname is said to have been Nailor), William Scadlock (Scathelock or Scarlet), George a Green, pinder (or pound-keeper) of Wakefield, Much, a miller’s son, and a certain monk or frier named Tuck (9). He is likewise said to have been accompanied in his retreat by a female, of whom he was enamoured, and whose real or adopted name was Marian (10).

His company, in process of time, consisted of a hundred archers; men, says Major, most skilful in battle, whom four times that number of the boldest fellows durst not attack (11). His manner of recruiting was somewhat singular; for, in the words of an {iv} old writer, “whersoever he hard of any that were of unusual strength and ‘hardines,’ he would desgyse himselfe, and, rather then fayle, go lyke a begger to become acquaynted with them; and, after he had tryed them with fyghting, never give them over tyl he had used means to drawe [them] to lyve after his fashion” (12): a practice of which numerous instances are recorded in the more common and popular songs, where, indeed, he seldom fails to receive a sound beating. In shooting with the long bow, which they chiefly practised, “they excelled all the men of the land; though, as occasion required, they had also other weapons” (13).

In those forests, and with this company, he for many years reigned like an independent sovereign; at perpetual war, indeed, with the King of England, and all his subjects, with an exception, however, of the poor and needy, and such as were “desolate and oppressed,” or stood in need of his protection. When molested, by a superior force in one place, he retired to another, still defying the power of what was called law and government, and making his enemies pay dearly, as well for their open attacks, as for their clandestine treachery. It is not, at the same time, to be concluded that he must, in this opposition, have been guilty of manifest treason or rebellion; as he most certainly can be justly charged with neither. An outlaw, in those times, being deprived of protection, owed no allegiance: “his hand was against every man, and every man’s hand against him” (14). {v} These forests, in short, were his territories; those who accompanied and adhered to him his subjects:

“The world was not his friend, nor the world’s law:”

and what better title King Richard could pretend to the territory and people of England than Robin Hood had to the dominion of Barnsdale or Sherwood is a question humbly submitted to the consideration of the political philosopher.

The deer with which the royal forests then abounded (every Norman tyrant being, like Nimrod, “a mighty hunter before the Lord”) would afford our hero and his companions an ample supply of food throughout the year; and of fuel, for dressing their vension, or for the other purposes of life, they could evidently be in no want. The rest of their necessaries would be easily procured, partly by taking what they had occasion for from the wealthy passenger who traversed or approached their territories, and partly by commerce with the neighbouring villages or great towns.

It may be readily imagined that such a life, during great part of the year, at least, and while it continued free from the alarms or apprehensions to which our foresters, one would suppose, must have been too frequently subject, might be sufficiently pleasant and desirable, and even deserve the compliment which is paid to it by Shakespeare in his comedy of As you like it (act i. scene 1), where, on Oliver’s asking, “Where will the old duke live?” Charles answers, “They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and {vi} a many merry men with him; and there they live like the OLD ROBIN HOOD OF ENGLAND; . . . and fleet the time carelessly as they did in the golden world.” Their gallant chief, indeed, may be presumed to have frequently exclaimed with the banished Valentine, in another play of the same author:2

“How use doth breed a habit in a man!

This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,

I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:

Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,

And, to the nightingale’s complaining notes,

Tune my distresses and record my woes.”

He would doubtless, too, often find occasion to add:

“What hallooing and what stir is this to-day?

These are my mates, that make their wills their law,

Have some unhappy passenger in chace:

They love me well; yet I have much to do,

To keep them from uncivil outrages.”

But, on the other hand, it will be at once difficult and painful to conceive,

“When they did hear

The rain and wind beat dark December, how,

In that their pinching cave, they could discourse

The freezing hours away!” (15).

Their mode of life, in short, and domestic economy, of which no authentic particulars have been even traditionally preserved, are more easily to be guessed at than described. They have, nevertheless, been elegantly sketched by the animating pencil of an excellent though neglected poet:—

“The merry pranks he play’d, would ask an age to tell,

And the adventures strange that Robin Hood befell,

When Mansfield many a time for Robin hath been laid,

How he hath cousen’d them, that him would have betray’d;

How often he hath come to Nottingham disguis’d,

And cunningly escap’d, being set to be surpriz’d.

In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one,

But he hath heard some talk of him and Little John;

And to the end of time, the tales shall ne’er be done,

Of Scarlock, George a Green, and Much the miller’s son,

Of Tuck the merry frier, which many a sermon made

In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade.

An hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood,

Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good,

All clad in Lincoln green (16), with caps of red and blue,

His fellow’s winded horn not one of them but knew,

When setting to their lips their little beugles shrill,

The warbling ecchos wak’d from every dale and hill.

Their bauldricks set with studs, athwart their shoulders cast,

To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled fast,

A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a span,

Who struck below the knee, not counted then a man:

All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous strong;

They not an arrow drew, but was a cloth-yard long.

Of archery they had the very perfect craft,

With broad-arrow, or but, or prick, or roving shaft,

At marks full forty score, they us’d to prick, and rove,

Yet higher than the breast, for compass never strove;

Yet at the farthest mark a foot could hardly win:

At long-outs, short, and hoyles, each one could cleave the pin:

Their arrows finely pair’d, for timber, and for feather,

With birch and brazil piec’d to fly in any weather;

And shot they with the round, the square, or forked pile,

The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a mile.

And of these archers brave, there was not any one,

But he could kill a deer his swiftest speed upon,

Which they did boil and roast, in many a mighty wood,

Sharp hunger the fine sauce to their more kingly food. {viii}

Then taking them to rest, his merry men and he

Slept many a summer’s night under the greenwood tree.

From wealthy abbots’ chests, and churls’ abundant store,

What oftentimes he took, he shar’d amongst the poor:

No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin’s way,

To him before he went, but for his pass must pay:

The widow in distress he graciously reliev’d,

And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin griev’d: (17)

He from the husband’s bed no married woman wan,

But to his mistress dear, his loved Marian,

Was ever constant known, which wheresoe’er she came,

Was sovereign of the woods; chief lady of the game:

Her clothes tuck’d to the knee, and dainty braided hair,

With bow and quiver arm’d, she wander’d here and there,

Amongst the forests wild; Diana never knew

Such pleasures, nor such harts as Mariana slew.” 3

That our hero and his companions, while they lived in the woods, had recourse to robbery for their better support is neither to be concealed nor to be denied. Testimonies to this purpose, indeed, would be equally endless and unnecessary. Fordun, in the fourteenth century, calls him “ille famosissimus siccarius,” that most celebrated robber, and Major terms him and Little John “famatissimi latrones.” But it is to be remembered, according to the confession of the latter historian, that, in these exertions of power, he took away the goods of rich men only; never killing any person, unless he was attacked or resisted: that he would not suffer a woman to be maltreated; nor ever took anything from the poor, but charitably fed them with the wealth he drew from the abbots. I disapprove, says he, of the rapine {ix} of the man: but he was the most humane and the prince of all robbers (18). In allusion, no doubt, to this irregular and predatory course of life, he has had the honour to be compared to the illustrious Wallace, the champion and deliverer of his country; and that, it is not a little remarkable, in the latter’s own time (19).

Our hero, indeed, seems to have held bishops, abbots, priests, and monks, in a word, all the clergy, regular or secular, in decided aversion.

“These byshoppes and thyse archebyshoppes,

Ye shall them bete and bynde,”

was an injunction carefully impressed upon his followers. The Abbot of Saint Mary’s, in York (20), from some unknown cause, appears to have been distinguished by particular animosity; and the Sheriff of Not­ting­ham­shire (21), who may have been too active and officious in his endeavours to apprehend him, was the unremitted object of his vengeance.

Notwithstanding, however, the aversion in which he appears to have held the clergy of every denomination, he was a man of exemplary piety, according to the notions of that age, and retained a domestic chaplain (Frier Tuck, no doubt) for the diurnal celebration of the divine mysteries. This we learn from an anecdote preserved by Fordun (22), as an instance of those actions which the historian allows to deserve commendation. One day, as he heard mass, which he was most devoutly accustomed to do (nor would {x} he, in whatever necessity, suffer the office to be interrupted,) he was espied by a certain sheriff and officers belonging to the king, who had frequently before molested him in that most secret recess of the wood where he was at mass. Some of his people, who perceived what was going forward, advised him to fly with all speed, which, out of reverence to the sacrament, which he was then most devoutly worshipping, he absolutely refused to do. But the rest of his men having fled for fear of death, Robin, confiding solely in Him whom he reverently worshipped, with a very few, who by chance were present, set upon his enemies, whom he easily vanquished; and, being enriched with their spoils and ransom, he always held the ministers of the Church and masses in greater veneration ever after, mindful of what is vulgarly said:

“Him God does surely hear

Who oft to th’ mass gives ear.”

Having, for a long series of years, maintained a sort of independent sovereignty, and set kings, judges, and magistrates at defiance, a proclamation was published (23) offering a considerable reward for bringing him in either dead or alive; which, however, seems to have been productive of no greater success than former attempts for that purpose. At length, the infirmities of old age increasing upon him (24), and desirous to be relieved, in a fit of sickness, by being let blood, he applied for that purpose to the Prioress of Kirkleys nunnery in Yorkshire, his {xi} relation (women, and particularly religious women, being, in those times, somewhat better skilled in surgery than the sex is at present), by whom he was treacherously suffered to bleed to death. This event happened on the 18th of November 1247, being the 31st year of King Henry III. and (if the date assigned to his birth be correct) about the 87th of his age (24). He was interred under some trees, at a short distance from the house; a stone being placed over his grave, with an inscription to his memory (25).

Such was the end of Robin Hood: a man who, in a barbarous age, and under a complicated tyranny, displayed a spirit of freedom and independence which has endeared him to the common people, whose cause he maintained (for all opposition to tyranny is the cause of the people), and, in spite of the malicious endeavours of pitiful monks, by whom history was consecrated to the crimes and follies of titled ruffians and sainted idiots, to suppress all record of his patriotic exertions and virtuous acts, will render his name immortal.

With respect to his personal character: it is sufficiently evident that he was active, brave, prudent, patient; possessed of uncommon bodily strength and considerable military skill; just, generous, benevolent, faithful, and beloved or revered by his followers or adherents for his excellent and amiable qualities. Fordun, a priest, extols his piety, Major (as we have seen) pronounces him the most humane and the prince of all robbers; and Camden, whose testimony is of {xii} some weight, calls him “prædonem mitissimum,” the gentlest of thieves. As proofs of his universal and singular popularity: his story and exploits have been made the subject as well of various dramatic exhibitions (26), as of innumerable poems, rimes, songs and ballads (27): he has given rise to divers proverbs (28); and to swear by him, or some of his companions, appears to have been a usual practice (29): his songs have been chanted on the most solemn occasions (30); his service sometimes preferred to the Word of God (31): he may be regarded as the patron of archery (32); and, though not actually canonised (a situation to which the miracles wrought in his favour, as well in his lifetime as after his death, and the supernatural powers he is, in some parts, supposed to have possessed (33), give him an indisputable claim), he obtained the principal distinction of sainthood, in having a festival allotted to him, and solemn games instituted in honour of his memory, which were celebrated till the latter end of the sixteenth century; not by the populace only, but by kings or princes and grave magistrates; and that as well in Scotland as in England; being considered, in the former country, of the highest political importance, and essential to the civil and religious liberties of the people, the efforts of government to suppress them frequently producing tumult and insurrection (34). His bow, and one of his arrows, his chair, his cap, and one of his slippers, were preserved, with peculiar veneration, till within {xiii} the present century (35); and not only places which afforded him security or amusement, but even the well at which he quenched his thirst, still retain his name (36): a name which, in the middle of the present century, was conferred as a singular distinction upon the prime minister to the king of Madagascar (37).

After his death his company was dispersed (38). History is silent in particulars: all that we can, therefore, learn is, that the honour of Little John’s death and burial is contended for by rival nations (39); that his grave continued long “celebrous for the yielding of excellent whetstones;” and that some of his descendants, of the name of Nailor, which he himself bore, and they from him, were in being so late as the last century (40).

FOOTNOTES TO “THE LIFE OF ROBIN HOOD”, pp. i–xiii

{xiv}