Robin Hood and Little John: or, the Merry Men of Sherwood Forest

Front matter

... hske^kIiMI EDITOB OF "THE HOME CIBCLE," AND AUTHOR OP " WAT T.LEE," " QUINTIN MATSYS," " THE LONDON APPEENTIOE," &C. PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BT W. S. JOHNSON, 60, ST. MARTIN'S LANE. TO BE HAD OF ALL BOOK8EKLEBS. Entsbed at Stationee's Hall, 1850, OCTOBEB, '3 AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF ESTEEM AND GRATITUDE FOR MANY KIND AND AFFECTIONATE SERVICES THE ACCOMPANYING HUMBLE PRODUCTION, IN ALL SINCERITY OF HEART, IS INSCRIBED TO BENJAMIN WEBSTER, Esq., (lessee or TnE THEATBES eoyal haymaeket and ADELPHI,) BT HIS HIGHLY OBLIGED AND ATTACHED FRIEND, PIERCE EGAN. 1850. UM SF H_LBSYftJ.TIQ!!8, DRAWN EXPRESSLY FOB THIS WOKE BY ME. W. H. THWAITES, AND ENGRAVED BY ME JOHN WALL. •

Book I

Pobibait OF the Authoe— to face Title Illttsteated Title FACE Robin Hood brought an Infant to the Cottage of Gilbert Hood . , . . i Hobin Hood and his Foster Father ...... 9 Death of Ritson ........ 17 Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, and Allan Clare ...... 25 Robin Hood and Maude Lindsey ....... 33 Gilbert Hood and the Outlaw ..'..... 41 Baron Fitz Alwine and his Retainers ...... 49 The Friar reading verses to the Baron ...... 57 Caspar Steinkopft struck down by an arrow ..... 65 Robin Hood shooting the Baron's Retainer ..... 73 Meeting of Maude, Friar Tuck, &c, in the Forest . . . . . . 81 Christabel discovering her Father insensible ...... 89

Book II

Emblematical Illustration to Book II. . . . . . . . 97 Robin Hood and Friar Tuck at quarterstaff ...... 105 Robin Hood and Grace May . ....... 113 Flight of the Baron from Little John . . . . ... . 121 Capture of the Baron ......... 129 Attack on the Village of Ganiwell ....... 137 Robin Hood rescuing Marian from the Noi-man Knight . . . . . 145 Will Scarlet's Dream ......... 153 Meeting of Maude and Will Scarlet . . . . . . . . 161 Conference between the Baron and Sir Tristram ... . . . 169 The Holy Palmer and Will Scarlet ........ 177 Festivities in Sherwood Forest ........ 188

Book III

Emblematical Illustration to Book III. . . . . . • 189 Herbert of the Lee saviDg Lilas ........ 193 Robin Hood in the disguise of an old woman . . . . ■ 201 Little John and the Beggars . . . ■ • • ■ 2°9 Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham . . . • . . 217 Robin Hood meeting the Sister of the Joyhearts ..... 225 Sir Richard of the Lee performing bis promise . . • • • • 233 Robin Hood slaying Sir Guy of Gisborne ...... 241 Richard of the Lion Heart and Hal of the Keep . . • • . . 249 Richard Cœur de Lion giving a buffet to Robin Hood ..... 257 Death of Marian ....-• ... 265 Death of Robin Hood ....•■••• 2?3

Preface

. The materials for a Life of Eobin Hood are but scanty; for, although his fame is universal, the existing details of his Hfe are hut few, and so sur rounded by the mists and obscurity of age, that but little certain can be gathered. Many traditions have been handed down respecting him, bearing some stamp of authority if it be only in the fact that the feats narrated are within the bounds of credibility, while they illustrate the customs and manners of the period ; yet, on the other hand, there are many which are quite beyond the pale of human belief, and must be discarded accordingly. Among his Biographers, some have contended for the nobility of his birth ; others have repudiated it : the latter have labored hard to support the proofs they have advanced, but they have little foundation in fact, and, in truth, tend more to mystify than to enlighten the enquirer on this subject.

The view taken by one writer on this question, though not original, is, perhaps, nearer the truth than any other speculation concerning the famous hero which has yet been formed. It is, that he was the last Saxon who made a positive stand against the dominancy of the Normans ; that, in fact, his predatory attacks upon them were but the national efforts of one who endeavoured to remove the proud foot of a conqueror from the neck of his countrymen. His means were all unequal to accomplish this noble and daring design ; but his efforts were unceasing, and must have been the source of constant alarm and harass to the Normans within his three counties, as well as of much uneasiness to the Governments under which he lived. But this, though probable and feasible, is, after all, only a speculation ; there is no positive evidence to prove it, although the collateral proofs are very powerful.

His popularity among the common people was universal, and has come down to us as fresh and untarnished as it must have been in his own day. There is not an authority but has a good word for him. Fordun, a writer and a priest in the fourteenth century, calls him " ille famosissinais stccarius," that most celebrated robber. Major styles him " the most humane and the prince of all robbers." He was compared by the author' of a curious Latin poem, dated Julii 1304, to William Wallace, the hero of Scotland. The renowned Camden speaks of him as " the gentlest of thieves." Shakspeare, in As You Like It, in his description of the Duke's mode of life, in allusion to its happiness, says " He is already in the Forest of Arden, and 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."

Drayton, a charming poet, in his Pohjbion, a work of extraordinary ability, thus characterises him : — " What, often time* he took, he shared amongst the poor. # # # * * * The widow in distress he graciously reliev'd, And remedied the wrongs of many a yirgin griev'd : He from the husband's bed no married woman wan, But to his mistress dear, his loved Marian, Was ever constant known."

PREFACE.

. Geoffrey Chaucer hath named him in kind terms : indeed, were we to enumerate all who have made mention of his name in their works, in strains of eulogy and tones of panegyric, we should exhaust the patience of our readers ; we may sum them up in the words of a gentleman who has most ably edited a very handsome edition of the " Robin Hood Ballads," and whose title to his opinion, from his very close research into the subject, is unquestionable. In concluding his life, he says, " He was 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 endeavors 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."

This is an opinion formed after the most careful and impartial investigation of almost every record existing respecting him extant, and it goes far to bear out the opinion upon his real position, and the object by which he was influenced, already mentioned. He has been the subject of poems, ballads, songs, and versification without number — of dramatic exhibitions, written by the best skdled poets of the time. For years, May Day never passed without seeing Robin Hood, Maid Marian, and their renowned followers, among the motley members of the festivals ; and Robin Hood is, perhaps, the only instance of a man of his class, although not actually canonized, having " a festival allotted to him and solemn games, instituted in honor of his memory • which were celebrated until 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 pohtical importance, and essential to the civil and religious liberties of the people."

His character, traced through every rhyme, ballad, song, tradition, proverb, or tale, in which he figures, is that of a man noble in spirit, ttnequalled in courage and daring, active and powerful, prudent, patient, just in his awards, generous and kind-hearted in his dispensations, of charity unbounded, and so full ofevery estimable quality, that he was not only devotedly beloved by his followers — no instance of any one proving unfaithful or treacherous appearing in any ballad or tradition extant — but he was revered by the people at large, at least, of the three counties in which he ranged, as a generous benefactor — as the true andfaithful friend who stoodbetween them, starvation, injury, and oppression. In the following pages the Author had no material for thc earlier portion of Robin Hood's life but such as his imagination supplied him with ; the latter portion embodies the exploits contained in the best ballads yet existing ; and he trusts, from the extraordinary success with which this humble effort of a youthful pen has been attended, that in combining the imaginative with all he could obtain of the actual, he has not failed in his desire to please.

In conclusion, he wishes to make especial mention that this is the only edition which he has revised with scrupulous care, and, without abridging, in many parts re-written such portions as appeared to him weak or defective. [THE AU T HOE'S OWN EDITION.] w er -y" AND LITTLE JOHN: (tot, €l)t Mm\\ Mttt nf Ijrmnni fnmi BV PIERCE EGAN THE YOUNGER. lliilnti Iniiii AND LITTLE JOHN; OE. THE MERRY MEN OF SHERWOOD FOREST. 23oofe I. "COME LITHE AND LYSTEN GENTLEMEN THAT BEE OF FREEBORN BLOOD, I SHALL TELL VE OF A GOOD TEMAN— HVS NAME WAS ROBYN HODE." ©IB 13-iiIaB. eye and an imperfect recollection to guide me. As yet we have journeyed in the right path, and with good steeds a 6hort hour's ride would bring us to Head's Cottage." " See if you cannot lash that lazy beast of thine into something like a pace," exclaimed his companion, spurring his horse sharply ; " my steed, although tired, lags not as does thine."

Ritson complied with his master's request, and the tired beast, under the influence of whip and spur, cantered but wearily along. The wind had risen consi derably ; it howled and moaned like the wad of un quiet spirits ; the sun had nearly vanished, and the darkness had increased apace, while the vast trees, which even in the broad daylight shed a sombre hue around, now added to the gloom, and made the twilight almost night ; heavy drops of had began to fall, and the indications of fold weather were being now rapidly realised. "Are we near the dwelling of this yeoman yet?" asked the elder traveller.

Chapter I

"In silence then they took the way, Beneath the forest's solitude. It was a vast and antique wood, Thro' which they took their way ; And the grey shades of evening, O'er that green wilderness did flings Still deeper solitude." — Sh elley . t2***S?N the year of Grace, 1157, during the reign ' (?? _ rQt °^ *k<* second Henry, two travellers, travel- ■ SsSJ Si) stained and mounted upon jaded steeds, >/**Rk__« wen(je(j their way through the intricacies of the vast sorest of Shire Wood or Sherwood, situated in Nottinghamshire. It was an evening in March, chill and cold ; the wind came in sharp fitful gusts, whistling now, and anon sighing through the young green leaves and old boughs of the huge trees. The sun was fast declining, and was setting with a wild aspect, deep red clouds clustered gloomily about him, and as he sunk behind the trees, long streams of grey mist rapidly uprose, giving dreary evidence of a stormy night.

The travellers were sufficiently weather-wise to recognise in these indications an imperious necessity for a speedy arrival at their journey's end, or, fading in that, to obtain the nearest shelter. One of them, who rode in advance, and appeared the superior, as well as the elder of the two, drew his mantle, in which he was enveloped, closer around him, and called to his com panion to quicken his speed ; the other obeyed the command with such right good will that he brought himself in a few minutes to a level with his fellow traveller ; for a short time they continued their journey in sdence, at length the elder traveller broke it by observing — " The wind is increasing ; I expect it will be a wild night — what think you, Ritson ?" " It looks threatening, my Lord," replied Ritson ; " I would our steeds were not so miserably fagged, for it will be somewhat serious to be benighted in this forest."

" We are, my Lord, replied his man ; " a quarter of an hour will bring us there." " It is well," muttered the noble. " This man — - this Head, is one on whom I may depend?" " You may, my Lord ; particularly when he believes the tale which your Lordship has coined so admir ably," replied Ritson: "he is a rough, frank, honest fellow, who has not two ideas of one thing ; he believes right ought to be might, and does his best to make it so — Wheugb ! there was a blast," he cried, as a gust of wind of tremendous force came tearing through the forest, followed by a vivid flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder. "There it is, my Lord, there it is!" cried Ritson, with a joyful burst, when the long peal of thunder had ceased; "you see that Hght twinkling through the trees ; that comes from Head's house ; it's now ehrht years since I saw that glimmering light from this spot.

Ah ! many a merry night have I passed with Gilbert Head." . " I trust you have no cause to expect an occurrence so unpleasant," returned his companion quickly ; " I imagined our journey was nearly at its close ; you are the guide — you have not lost your road, I hope P" "Oh, no!" answered Ritson, "but if we do not make better progress before the sun sinks down and the storm comes up, I shall be likely to miss my road in the darkness : as it is, I have nothing but a quick " You have the brat safe ?" interrogated the Lord. "I have, my Lord," was the reply: "he is fast < asleep. I cannot see, my Lord, why you should take X all this trouble ; if this boy is in your way, the X quietest and most certain way to remove him would X be to give him two inches of cold steel ; it is .a good X time now, it will not take me a minute, and your < Lordship will thank me, and remember me in your j wid, for the deed."

"No, no," returned his Lordship, hurriedly; "although he is in my way, and did he reach man's estate, knowing his birthright, it would bring ruin on me, yet I would not imbrue my hands in his blood : no, 'tis better as it is. I shall rid myself of him with out being guilty of so foul a crime as murder ; and if he never becomes aware of his right of title to the earldom — and he never can unless you disclose it, which it shall be my peculiar care to prevent — brought up to a yeoman's life, he will never miss it ; I shall enjoy that which I need, and he will not be the worse for losing that which he never needed." "Be it as you will, my Lord," returned Ritson coolly ; " but for my part, I think a brat's hfe not worth a journey from Huntingdonshire to Notting hamshire. This is the house, my Lord," he concluded, as they arrived in front of a well-built cottage standing on the borders of the forest.

It was a welcome sight to both, for their journey had been a long and weary one. It was therefore with a feeHng of satisfaction that both dismounted, and Ritson knocked loudly for admittance, accompanying his blows by a series of shouts, which would, he an ticipated, gain for them instant ingress. " What ho ! neighbour Head ; goodman Head !" he roared. " Gilbert Head ! a kinsman knocks ; the blazing logs are on thy hearth, and the outside of thy door is to my front ; a shelter— a shelter for the benighted !" His appeal was answered by the deep-mouthed bay ing of hounds, who, on the instant he had struck the door, had rushed to it and poured forth a fierce clamour. A voice was soon heard quieting them, and then inquiring " Who knocks ?" " Thy kinsman, Roland Ritson," was the reply. " Open quickly, good Gilbert.

I have a companion with me ; we are wet to the skin ; quick, quick !" " What, Roland Ritson, of Mansfield ?" asked the voice. tardy in bidding ye welcome, which I now do heartily and truly. Ah ! you have steed3 with you ; we must see to their comfort. Ho ! Lincoln !" he shouted, and a stout serving man, in the garb of a forester, made his appearance ; " here, lead these steeds to the shed, and see them well served," he cried. The man obeyed without uttering a word, or scarcely glancing at the new comers. Gdbert Head led the travellers to the fire, and a female about thirty, with pretty features, and altogether of a pleasing exterior, met them and bade them welcome. This was the wife of Gilbert Head, and Ritson's sister. " Why, Margaret !" cried her brother, " eight years have not added much weight to thy brow ; thy sore head is as clear and thine^eye as bright as when Gilbert came a-wooing."

" I have been well and very happy," she replied, bestowing a glance of affection upon her husband, who returned it with a hearty kiss. " You may say we, Maggie girl, for we have been very happy," cried the honest yeoman, his eyes dwelling upon the pleasing face of his wife with a look of intense satisfaction ; " and thanks to thy sweet temper, there has been no sullen looks nor rough words to mar our peace. But come, kinsman, doff your cloak ; and you, sir, the rain hangs upon thy cloth Uke dew on the leaves. Bustle, Margaret ; make the fag gots blaze ; a hot supper shall soon drive out the cold which the rain has worked in." The worthy couple moved themselves with a good will, and hastened to place materials for a hearty sup per upon the table. Whde thus employed, Ritson took the opportunity of throwing his cloak from his shoulders, and discovered a sleeping child resting upon his arm, wrapped in a cloak of fine blue cloth ; the face of the infant was of great beauty, round and weU formed, and the clear skin, ruby lips, and red cheeks exhibited the appearance of extreme health.

When Ritson had quite disengaged himself from his mantle, and disposed the chdd to as much advantage as circumstances would allow, he turned to his sister, and assuming a tone of voice which wouldj best answer his purpose, said — "Margaret, come hither, I have a present for thee ; you shall not say that I returned after eight years' absence empty handed. See what I have brought thee." " Holy Mary !" ejaculated the astonished Margaret as she saw the child, " a chdd ! why, Roland, where got you this, is it thine? What an angel ! oh, Gdbert, look at this sweet chdd " " Why, what now ?" exclaimed G ilbert Head, as he looked upon the chdd with almost as much amaze ment as his wife. "A sleeping babe ! What, Roland, at your old tricks agaiD, eh ? — or have you turned nurse in your reformed state ? — it's strange for you to be scouring the country on stormy nights with an infant in your arms.

What's iu the wind, lad ? Out with it ; I know thee, Roland. Now, I've seen tins babe, I am well assured it was not a mere matter of being benighted that brought you hither. Out with it, Ritson, let's have the worst and best." "You shall have all I know, in good truth," replied Roland. " This child is none of mine — nor of any one's, now ; it is an orphan, but this friend of mine is the present owner ; he knew the family and the whole story, which he shall tell you. But if you have Chris tian charity, you will spread the supper table and say ' sit ye down and eat and drink your fill, and to what there is ye are kindly welcome." Here, Margaret, take the boy ; my arm has been his cradle these two days — hours I mean — and my arm aches." " The sweet innocent shall not stay thy stomach from its feast," said Margaret, taking the chdd from her brother's arms, while an expression of pleasure " Aye, aye, the same — at least I was of Mansfield," returned Ritson, impatiently.

"You forget, good Gdbert, the rain is coming down in torrents ; hear ye not the wind ?" " No, I do not forget that 'tis a rough night, neither forget I that you played me a scurvy trick at our last meeting, Master Roland," said the voice. "But as you have one with you, and the night is not over pleasant, why, my hospitality shall not be questioned ; else beshrew me, but I would let you thump till your arm ached, and shout tiU you were hoarse, ere I would let door of mine fly back at your command." Saying which, the speaker unbound the door, and admitted the travellers. " Give me thy hand, Gdbert," said Ritson, with an appearance of frank cordiality. " I acknowledge my offence, and am heartily ashamed of it ; I freely ask thy pardon, and beg of thee to remember I was some eight years younger than I stand now before you, and that much wilder ; besides, good Gilbert, you had your revenge of me."

" And so I had !" replied Gdbert, laughing, " it's ill sport to draw a shaft on a dead buck, and so there's my hand. A welcome to my humble roof, sir stranger," he added, turning to Ritson's companion. " Judge not harshly of my good will, that an oaken door stood some time between you and my hearth after you had asked for admittance ; but some rude neighbours in the forest here, who would be hand-and-glove with what ever they can lay claw on, without consulting the in clination of the owner, make it needful to trust to bars and bolts for a security which is denied to a strong arm and stcut heart, when opposed to num bers ; and a difference between me and my kinsman there, which occurred some years since, made me " You hesitate," said the noble, a frown gathering > on his brow ; " my proposition likes you not."

J "In good truth," said the yeoman quickly, "it i likes me well, for since it hath not pleased the Holy \ Mother to grant us bantlings, I should be well pleased > to fondle one, to bring him up to good thoughts and i honest deeds, though he be not son of mine ; but it \ rests with Maggie ; if it likes her we will cry a bar \ gain, sir stranger. What say you, girl ?" " I am well content the child stay with us, Gilbert ; > for, as this good soldier truly says, what should he < do with a young and tender babe, being kinless and I passing his life in the rough scenes of war ? It is a 5 sweet child, and pity indeed 'twould be that harm I should come to it. Let him be as though he were our s own, until you, sir, shall think it time he change a I forest home for one of thy choosing." 5 " Our thoughts and wishes jump together in this, j as they do in all things, dear Maggie," said her hus i band affectionately to her.

Then turning to the } traveller, he continued — "Well, sir soldier, it is a I bargain; we keep the boy until he is of anage to give > you no trouble, and when that time arrives you will 5 see we have dealt honestly by him, to which I pledge i my faith, and there's my glove on it," he concluded, ; drawing one of bis-gauntlets from his belt, andthrow i ing it on the table. s "I accept the token," returned the traveller, taking < up the glove, and giving one of his own in exchange.* 5 He then drew a small bag from a pocket in his j doublet, adding, " Here is a sum in gold pieces, which | each year I will transmit to you, be I at what quarter \ of the globe I may, for his support and clothing." < This proposition met with strong opposition on the f part of the good yeoman, who stoutly refused to re \ eeive a fraction of it ; but the friendly altercation \ was at length terminated by a proposal from Margaret < to receive the sum and. put it by each year, until the < boy quitted them ; it would then make a pretty purse ; to begin the world with.

This was agreed to, a few 't arrangements were made, and the parties separated < for the night. When Gilbert Head rose next morning, his first act was to visit the shed, to see that his visitors' steeds had met with good treatment. He found them \ well groomed, but still labouring under the effects of I long and hard riding ; they were noble steeds, of high < breeding aud excellent value. Gilbert Head possessed S two horses, aud it was with something like a smile he ; turned to compare these high-bred cattle with his < own forest nags. To his surprise he missed them ; : they were absent from the stable, and as he knew | none connected with his establishment (for he was a j keeper of the forest) dare take either or both without . his permission, as he kept them for his own especial ; riding, his mind misgave him that his guests had not : stayed for leave-taking.

He sought the chamber iu > which he led them to repose, aud found it empty : j they had gone ere day-break. I " There is something afloat that should not be," i he muttered, " or they would not have left in this stiauge manner. At least they have not been dishonest, everything is as I left it ; and so far from robbmg me, they have given me a bag of gold, exchanged two blood horses for a pair of sturdy forest nags, but common brutes iu comparison with those I have iu exchange, and I have a pretty boy thrown into the bargain. No, no, 'tis no picking and stealing they have been after ; there is something in which this child is concerned, of some particular importance, that has made them journey loug and wearily to seek me out. Well, be it what it may, I will do my best by passed over her features as she received him and gazed on the sweet calm features reposing in gentle slumber.

She carried him gently up a flight of stairs which led from the room they were in to her bed room ; she placed the sleeping infant upon the bed, and covering him with her own scarlet mantle which decorated her fair person when she went to mass or to holiday treats, returned to thc room she had previously quitted. She found her husband bantering her brother and the stranger alternately, upon the possession of the child ; which the former took in good part, but the latter rather stiffly, although he strove to conceal the dislike he felt to the honest yeoman's freedom of speech. The supper passed away, without an occurrence worthy of remark, and with little conversation, save a few questions from Gilbert and Margaret to her brother, which he saw fit to answer only as it would serve his present purpose.

At length, when Gilbert began to entertain serious notions of retiring for the night, and to think in what way he could dispose of his guests to their satisfaction, the noble broke the silence which had reigned for a short time, by remark ing to his host. — " You were making some observations respecting the infant which your relative brought hither to-night and consigned to the custody of your wife. I am in a position to satisfy your curiosity, and as I have a proposition to make which will affect his future welfare, I wish to put you in possession of all matters connected with him. " His father was a soldier, of good family, a most I dear and intimate friend of mine, and a comrade in j arms. We served for some time together in France '■ under the present King Henry, iu Normandy, ; Aquitaine, Poictou, and many other places, and again, a few years since, in Wales.