Michael Reuel's Blog - Posts Tagged "ballads"
Bizarre to call early Robin Hood ballads fiction
In my last blog post I explored the public’s perception of Robin Hood’s heroism and popularity and how this has developed over time to suit certain preferences and archetypes. As a follow-up, I’d like to tackle the argument that Robin’s origins are purely fiction and assess what strength lies behind such a position.
On this subject, the first point to be clear on is that there is no official history at all. Historians neither confirm that Robin Hood is fiction or a real individual. In attempting to draw our own conclusions, therefore, we do not in fact contradict any established historical analysis whatsoever. No one has ever accurately traced the famous outlaw in a church record or court archive and so, as far as typical historical study goes, there is actually very little to analyse at all.
The story of Robin Hood comes to us as exactly that: a story; specifically the five early ballads: Robin Hood and the Monk, The Gest of Robin Hood, Robin Hood and the Potter, Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne and The Death of Robin Hood.
As a result, in order to interpret what might be genuine and what might be fiction, or the addition of a storyteller, we have to consider these ballads with the art of storytelling in mind, rather than straining through a historian’s lens to locate a yeoman who lived outside of civilised society; an unenviable task.
So how valuable are the ballads? This is what we need to answer but, as my last blog touched upon, they have largely been misread. In ‘Robin Hood Existed’ I have delved into some of the science behind storytelling and our relationship with it from an evolutionary level, led by the expertise of Brian Boyd and his On the Origin of Stories. Even without the complexities of science, however, we can still draw a number of key conclusions simply by looking at the ballads and making an instinctive analysis.
Imagine we had never heard of Robin Hood; how would we assess that the content of the ballads belongs to a genuine story or else from a creative spark? What are the giveaways to look out for and what do the ballads score when subjected to the scrutiny of a storyteller’s eye?
In order to ascertain this, I would suggest five key areas in which to assess the ballads for flaws. These are: 1. the fantastical; 2. the implausible; 3. the landscape; the historical; and 5. the intricate.
1. the fantastical
This feels like the obvious place to start. Even those medieval tales that we know for sure are based on a factual hero often have their adventures spiced up by encounters with mythical creatures, such as giants and dragons. Fulk FitzWarin, Eustace the Monk and Hereward the Wake all serve as examples of this. There is nothing of the sort in the Robin Hood ballads, however. They stand out – or should have stood out – to chroniclers as being unusually down-to-earth. If he was made up then his storyteller restricted his foes to the sheriff of Nottingham and unpopular members of the local clergy, as well as the enigmatic Red Roger; a fairly meagre cast of villainy to compete against someone cast as the hero of the people.
2. the implausible
On the other hand, actions and achievements can still be far-fetched, even if there are no fire-breathing dragons involved. On this account Robin still passes with flying colours, however. Though the strength and prowess of the Merry Men are stated many times, the ballads present a consistent explanation for this in stressing it to be a result of their harsh woodland lifestyle. They are hardy folk who need to be strong enough to wield the mighty longbow to survive, as well as a sword. Robin’s most excessive physical accomplishment comes when cornered by the sheriff and his men in a church when he kills twelve of them – a feat that is not unheard of among valiant men of the time and he is still captured anyway. Additionally, Little John and Will Scarlett succeed in stealing two monks away from one hundred guards, but nowhere is it suggested that they had to fight them to do so. Robin and his men are impressive, but they are not super heroes.
3. the Landscape
Some storytellers care more about the geographical surroundings of their tales more than others and a loose depiction of England might have easily caught a tall-tale out. But although the woodland adventures are sometimes hard to pin down, for example when Robin is said to kill Gisborne ‘under the lime trees’, it is nevertheless clear that these stories belong to a particular part of the world. Although there is an ongoing debate over whether Robin belongs in Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire, or Barnsdale, in Yorkshire, the fact is that these two forests border each other and Nottingham would have been the closest significant town to them both. Indeed, the ballads perform so well on this score that there is only one unverifiable location in Verysdale, the home of the knight Sir Richard at the Lee. A place that no longer exists or else has been subject to a name change perhaps, but even building names, like the Kirklees Priory, and street names like Watling Street are accurate.
4. the Historical
This is perhaps the least likely means by which to catch a Robin Hood storyteller out, as social norms and culture did not appear to change as dramatically during medieval times as they do in the modern world. However, it is worth pointing out that the ballads are entirely in keeping with everything we know of the time, unlike many Arthurian tales which have been consistently redeveloped to suit different cultures. For example, the system of appointing tough individuals as sheriffs, which was in place during King John’s time (1199–1216) and was only reviewed during Edward III’s (1327–77). Plus, the longbow became England’s most effective weapon during the fourteenth century and the forests of Sherwood and Barnsdale were considerably more vast and dense than they are today. It is worth mentioning the obvious too, that the king in the ballads is an Edward and that Robin did not exist during King Richard or King John’s time more than a century earlier – but this mistake was driven into popular culture by later writers and is something that the ballads are not at fault for.
5. the Intricate
For the final test we could look more closely at aspects of local knowledge and sentiment and it is here that, because again the ballads pass with flying colours, we perhaps also find the strongest argument for putting them forward as authentic. While being consistent in referring to Robin as a famous yeoman who did the poor much good, the ballads contain a number of curiosities, the like of which it is difficult to imagine a storyteller thinking up for the sake of creativity. Perhaps the prime example is that of William a Trent. During modern day Robin Hood films the sheriff’s men might equate to something like arrow fodder, in the same way that wearing a red suit in Star Trek also gets the actor killed, but the Gisborne ballad goes so far as to name and mourn the passing of ‘good William a Trent’, who is killed by an arrow when the sheriff is attempting to snare Robin and his men. The character is mentioned nowhere else and this is an amazing addition that can surely only be explained by some form of local sentiment being at play. If these ballads first became popular within the very communities where William a Trent came from, then that looks likely to have played the storyteller’s hand in adding the fact that William was not considered to be one of the villains just because he was in the sheriff’s employment.
So there we have it. The Robin Hood ballads pass on all accounts and his reputation only became murky because historians have not understood him and placed the content in a different context – in some cases ignoring it completely.
So how do we maintain the convenient naysaying and anti-romantic position that Robin Hood is all a load of nonsense?
Answer: we can’t. Robin Hood existed and modern day scholars need to look a bit harder in order to verify this.
On this subject, the first point to be clear on is that there is no official history at all. Historians neither confirm that Robin Hood is fiction or a real individual. In attempting to draw our own conclusions, therefore, we do not in fact contradict any established historical analysis whatsoever. No one has ever accurately traced the famous outlaw in a church record or court archive and so, as far as typical historical study goes, there is actually very little to analyse at all.
The story of Robin Hood comes to us as exactly that: a story; specifically the five early ballads: Robin Hood and the Monk, The Gest of Robin Hood, Robin Hood and the Potter, Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne and The Death of Robin Hood.
As a result, in order to interpret what might be genuine and what might be fiction, or the addition of a storyteller, we have to consider these ballads with the art of storytelling in mind, rather than straining through a historian’s lens to locate a yeoman who lived outside of civilised society; an unenviable task.
So how valuable are the ballads? This is what we need to answer but, as my last blog touched upon, they have largely been misread. In ‘Robin Hood Existed’ I have delved into some of the science behind storytelling and our relationship with it from an evolutionary level, led by the expertise of Brian Boyd and his On the Origin of Stories. Even without the complexities of science, however, we can still draw a number of key conclusions simply by looking at the ballads and making an instinctive analysis.
Imagine we had never heard of Robin Hood; how would we assess that the content of the ballads belongs to a genuine story or else from a creative spark? What are the giveaways to look out for and what do the ballads score when subjected to the scrutiny of a storyteller’s eye?
In order to ascertain this, I would suggest five key areas in which to assess the ballads for flaws. These are: 1. the fantastical; 2. the implausible; 3. the landscape; the historical; and 5. the intricate.
1. the fantastical
This feels like the obvious place to start. Even those medieval tales that we know for sure are based on a factual hero often have their adventures spiced up by encounters with mythical creatures, such as giants and dragons. Fulk FitzWarin, Eustace the Monk and Hereward the Wake all serve as examples of this. There is nothing of the sort in the Robin Hood ballads, however. They stand out – or should have stood out – to chroniclers as being unusually down-to-earth. If he was made up then his storyteller restricted his foes to the sheriff of Nottingham and unpopular members of the local clergy, as well as the enigmatic Red Roger; a fairly meagre cast of villainy to compete against someone cast as the hero of the people.
2. the implausible
On the other hand, actions and achievements can still be far-fetched, even if there are no fire-breathing dragons involved. On this account Robin still passes with flying colours, however. Though the strength and prowess of the Merry Men are stated many times, the ballads present a consistent explanation for this in stressing it to be a result of their harsh woodland lifestyle. They are hardy folk who need to be strong enough to wield the mighty longbow to survive, as well as a sword. Robin’s most excessive physical accomplishment comes when cornered by the sheriff and his men in a church when he kills twelve of them – a feat that is not unheard of among valiant men of the time and he is still captured anyway. Additionally, Little John and Will Scarlett succeed in stealing two monks away from one hundred guards, but nowhere is it suggested that they had to fight them to do so. Robin and his men are impressive, but they are not super heroes.
3. the Landscape
Some storytellers care more about the geographical surroundings of their tales more than others and a loose depiction of England might have easily caught a tall-tale out. But although the woodland adventures are sometimes hard to pin down, for example when Robin is said to kill Gisborne ‘under the lime trees’, it is nevertheless clear that these stories belong to a particular part of the world. Although there is an ongoing debate over whether Robin belongs in Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire, or Barnsdale, in Yorkshire, the fact is that these two forests border each other and Nottingham would have been the closest significant town to them both. Indeed, the ballads perform so well on this score that there is only one unverifiable location in Verysdale, the home of the knight Sir Richard at the Lee. A place that no longer exists or else has been subject to a name change perhaps, but even building names, like the Kirklees Priory, and street names like Watling Street are accurate.
4. the Historical
This is perhaps the least likely means by which to catch a Robin Hood storyteller out, as social norms and culture did not appear to change as dramatically during medieval times as they do in the modern world. However, it is worth pointing out that the ballads are entirely in keeping with everything we know of the time, unlike many Arthurian tales which have been consistently redeveloped to suit different cultures. For example, the system of appointing tough individuals as sheriffs, which was in place during King John’s time (1199–1216) and was only reviewed during Edward III’s (1327–77). Plus, the longbow became England’s most effective weapon during the fourteenth century and the forests of Sherwood and Barnsdale were considerably more vast and dense than they are today. It is worth mentioning the obvious too, that the king in the ballads is an Edward and that Robin did not exist during King Richard or King John’s time more than a century earlier – but this mistake was driven into popular culture by later writers and is something that the ballads are not at fault for.
5. the Intricate
For the final test we could look more closely at aspects of local knowledge and sentiment and it is here that, because again the ballads pass with flying colours, we perhaps also find the strongest argument for putting them forward as authentic. While being consistent in referring to Robin as a famous yeoman who did the poor much good, the ballads contain a number of curiosities, the like of which it is difficult to imagine a storyteller thinking up for the sake of creativity. Perhaps the prime example is that of William a Trent. During modern day Robin Hood films the sheriff’s men might equate to something like arrow fodder, in the same way that wearing a red suit in Star Trek also gets the actor killed, but the Gisborne ballad goes so far as to name and mourn the passing of ‘good William a Trent’, who is killed by an arrow when the sheriff is attempting to snare Robin and his men. The character is mentioned nowhere else and this is an amazing addition that can surely only be explained by some form of local sentiment being at play. If these ballads first became popular within the very communities where William a Trent came from, then that looks likely to have played the storyteller’s hand in adding the fact that William was not considered to be one of the villains just because he was in the sheriff’s employment.
So there we have it. The Robin Hood ballads pass on all accounts and his reputation only became murky because historians have not understood him and placed the content in a different context – in some cases ignoring it completely.
So how do we maintain the convenient naysaying and anti-romantic position that Robin Hood is all a load of nonsense?
Answer: we can’t. Robin Hood existed and modern day scholars need to look a bit harder in order to verify this.
