ROBIN HOOD’S GUYDE TO BEING THE MERRIEST OF MEN

Stephanie Cohen

Honors Thesis

Spring 2013

Dr. John Cech, Dr. R. Allen Shoaf CONTENTS

Introduction 2

Chapter 1 In All Kinds of Weather, Merry Men Band Together 11

Chapter 2 On Pride and Humility 15

Chapter 3 Testosterone in Tights 17

Chapter 4 Robbin’ the Rich: The Gift of Generosity 23

Chapter 5 Beware of Damsels in Distress! 24

Chapter 6 A Fair Fight 27

Chapter 7 On Outlaws 29

Chapter 8 Loyalty to the Lion-Hearted 34

Chapter 9 Disguises and Deceit: Trickster Robin 36

Chapter 10 Leave A Legacy: Death and Remembrance 44

Chapter 11 Robin the Role Model 51 Walt Disney’s Robin Hood 53 Robin Hood and The Hunger Games 59

Conclusion 68

Works Cited 71

1 Introduction

For this Honors Thesis project, I would like to analyze the depictions of the Robin Hood archetype over several texts, as the character has been transformed by time and various cultures.

We know him as the iconic archer clad in green from head to toe and, in medieval ballads and legends from as early as the 13th century to as recently as the past few years, the Robin Hood figure has been a prominent persona in literature. Even in medieval texts, Robin Hood morphed from a “highwayman”-like figure whose sole motivation was selfishness to a lovable outcast who steals from the wealthy and, in an act of self-sacrifice, gives the plunder to the poor. In more modern texts, most specifically Children’s Literature (i.e., Howard Pyle’s The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood), Robin Hood is a romanticized figure, a bold archer whose tale delights both young and old alike.

The archetypes of Robin Hood, the trickster and the adventurous archer, can also be observed in various contemporary texts, ranging from Mark Twain’s beloved characters of Huck

Finn and Tom Sawyer to the spunky Katniss Everdeen of Suzanne Collin’s The Hunger Games trilogy of recent vintage. I have set out to explore readers’ long-lasting love of the outlaw hero, this popular persona who defies the letter of the law and accepted conventions, yet who still manages to steal mainly our hearts. I also plan to study the evolution of the Robin Hood figure throughout literature, a mysterious being who first appeared in Scottish and English tales many centuries ago, whose adventures, conquests, and exploits continue to entertain and thrill readers to this very day.

As the beloved character of Robin Hood addresses his audience in Howard Pyle’s renowned The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood,

2 “One man calleth me kind, another calleth me cruel; this one calleth me good, honest

fellow, and that one vile thief. Truly, the world hath as many eyes to look upon a man

withal as there are spots on a toad; so, with what pair of eyes thou regardest me lieth

entirely with thine own self. My name is Robin Hood” (Pyle 160).

Over the years and throughout the multiple incarnations of this beloved hero, the archetype of

Robin Hood has altered genders, locations, ages, and even personalities, yet the core of the character and his merry adventures somehow have preserved their original vitality.

Ironically, Pyle’s oeuvre – at least his initial work – was met with disapproving reviews; as an American writer who had never visited England, he was criticized for an inaccurate portrayal of the English hero and his adventures in Nottinghamshire. Although The Merry

Adventures “was neither a stunning commercial nor popular success during the first years of its publication” (Cech 11), there have been countless tellings and retellings since then, a myriad of revisions and editions which, despite their nuances and subtleties, all depict Robin as a legendary hero in Lincoln green.

While newer productions of Robin Hood and his tales have appeared even into contemporary times, Pyle’s fears of losing the legends that were perpetuated solely by oral tradition, which originally drove him to write the book, unfortunately resurface as contemporary children’s interest in reading “old-fashioned” classics dwindles. Even though the name and reputation of Robin Hood and his Merry Men are known far and wide,

“Part of Pyle’s purpose in doing The Merry Adventures had been to bring the traditional

stories to children who ‘are very apt to know of Robin Hood without any very clear ideas

upon his particular adventures’” (Cech 11).

3 English children’s literature, an invention of the 1740’s, has been defined by writer

Bennett Brockman as “imaginative literature marketed to children and designed for their amusement as well as their edification” (Brockman 1); although the escapades of Robin Hood adhere to this definition, modern readers cannot help but feel that these tales are not as popular as they once were. The popular misconception of children’s literature as second or third-class literature has decreased the ostensible importance of keeping such legends strong, healthy, and alive: “[a]s Bennett Brockman has pointed out, the Robin Hood stories, along with many other medieval romances and fictions, were roundly denounced and dismissed by scholars, clergy, and educators from the Renaissance until well into the 18th century” (Cech 13). However, albeit

Robin Hood tales may be denounced as archaic or overdone, in the wake of five centuries of beloved readers, they continue to survive and be referenced in modern literature, so that future generations may still revel in the tales of the Merry Men. When we think of frolicking fellows in the forest, Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer and his partner-in-crime, Huckleberry Finn, also come to mind; when archery crosses our thoughts, we are reminded of Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger

Games trilogy, and that series’ protagonist, Katniss Everdeen. It is by and through such modern renditions that Robin Hood lives on in the minds and hearts of the literate.

The Four Archetypal Robin Hoods

We relish in the adventures of Robin Hood and his merry band of outlaws because, despite his rejection of conventional law, he always somehow effects a dashing escape, giving us a glimpse into what he stands for, namely, a system of social order and personal ethics superior to the current one that is in force. Although he is a mortal man, lacking any sort of superhuman powers – in fact, Robin of the Sherwood Forest always is represented as such an earthly and

4 human character – he is a protagonist of epic proportion, as identified by Stephen Knight in his

Robin Hood: A Mythic Biography (2003) (Knight xiv).

As evidenced in the Rymes of Robin Hood, there is Bold (Medieval) Robin, the Earl of

Huntingdon, Robin Hood, Esquire, and the Robin Hood of Hollywood. While each of these personas differs slightly from the other, all have been illustrated in the many renderings of Robin

Hood that have been compiled over the years through literature, film, and the mass conceptions of the general public audience. The first identity, Bold Robin Hood, is omnipresent in some form in the many different roles that the hero plays. Bold Robin Hood displays the utmost physical prowess and ethical courage, and is unfailingly successful in his brawls with strong, oppressive enemies. This medieval “yeoman,” reminiscent of Geoffrey Chaucer’s character from the

“Knight’s Yeoman’s Tale,” possesses no royal or formal title, but rather is a man who protects those close to him. Although he only commands a band containing three or four outlaws (more realistic than the depictions of hundreds of Merry Men that surface in later renditions), he remains steadfastly faithful to the King, and also is a master archer. But this Robin, hailing from some ambiguous part of England, or even Scotland, only robs the rich for his own ends; he has not evolved into the full-fledged “man of the people” that he is considered in later versions. He is the rugged, drawn to nature, “famous cutthroat” (Knight 5) of the Gest of Robin Hood (1510), hardly the gregarious and selfless Robin Hood that his name calls to mind in the present day.

At the roots of the Robin Hood tradition, there is no explanation for the Merry Men’s appearance in Sherwood Forest; it is seemingly very natural that Robin and his band exist in the forest, cohabitating with the King’s flora, fauna, and ferae naturae (wildlife), perpetuating the archetypal image of “Robin Hood in greenwood stood” (Knight 13). Harmony between the outlaw and the natural refuge to which he has fled has existed always, whereas there remains a

5 disconnect between the outlaw and the corrupt, immoral, and unethical authority figures that reign outside of the forest. In these “garlands,” collections of a dozen or so ballads bound together into small books, Little John, interestingly, is the trickster character; while Robin approves of his friend’s mischievous antics, he does not follow in his footsteps or initiate the playfulness, as he does in later retellings. Furthermore, there is no romantic subplot; Robin lacks any noble status and is unconcerned with any lady.

The second archetype, or the gentrified Robert, Earl of Huntingdon/Huntington, provides our hero with a backstory to his antiauthoritarian roots; Robin is an aristocrat in distress, often referred to as Sir Robert of Loxley. While we are not certain if his nobility has been gained through birth or through his achievements, this Robin’s abhorrence of all evil is personal, rather than political. This Robin, then, is more akin to the patriotic figure of Scottish rebel leader

William Wallace, condoning redistributive robbery, and supporting the illusion that the “pastoral is just a visit, forest provides just a charming reflex of the cultural realities of the court” (Knight

57). Although there is only one version of the Robin and Marian ballad (Knight 78), and Marian is first known as Mathilda, we begin to see the emergence of snippets of later tales, where Robin was at one point a distinguished, land-owning lord, replete with his own castle and lady.

Robin Hood, Esquire, is a “romantic,” or nostalgic, yeoman figure who appears in the most single important period in Robin Hood’s mythic biography, 1818-19 (Knight 100), when the well-known writers John Keats, Sir Walter Scott, and Thomas Love Peacock took literary interest in writing about the hero. This Robin provides audiences with a sentimental, positive outlook upon the outlaw world; he is always well-armed, but in a theatrical, attractive manner, and through him we are introduced to the “beauty and escapist value of forest, fascination, and enigmatic value of history” (Knight 107). In these representations of Robin, we are presented

6 with the classical image of our hero, splitting his rivals’ arrows with his own, and dashingly asserting his dominance and skill over all other Englishmen. When Sir Walter Scott decided to take him out of period dramas and, instead, utilize him as the star of his novels, commencing in

1819, and Thomas Love Peacock applied the hero’s name and reputation to present a critique upon society, where the forest becomes a refuge for antiauthoritarian figures, audiences began to become more familiar with the prototype archer bedecked in green from head to toe. With children’s literature evolving in the late eighteenth century (Knight 132) in chapbooks, and

Pyle’s introduction of The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood (1883), we gain a better understanding of who Robin is and precisely what motivates him to perform his actions of selflessness, for which the English countryside apparently remains eternally in gratitude and debt to him.

Knight’s fourth and final archetype of the Robin Hood tradition is his Hollywood counterpart, a character that has become very familiar to present-day readers and film audiences.

When “fruitful flexibility and related low profile of the Robin Hood texts changed in the 20th century, as one medium [film] became dominant” (Knight 151), contemporary adaptations began to shape our perception of Robin Hood and his adventures. Hollywood’s Robin is an action hero, who also always remains a gentleman. From Disney (1952 and 1973) to Jim Henson’s Muppets

(1981), our “hero retains an element of swash-buckling adolescence” (Knight 167), inspiring children to be brave, bold, and just a little bit reckless. While he is “Robin / Hood” in Britain, we have been introduced to him as Robinhood in Hollywood; he has become less of a historical, real figure and more of a performer.

Robin Hood, Medieval Myth to Modern Man

7 As Lois Potter and Joshua Calhoun write in Images of Robin Hood: Medieval to Modern

(2008), our modern Robin Hood tradition stems from a compilation of characters that all resist capture by the villains that attempt to impose their system upon the common people. Robin, who

“robs” from the rich to provide for the poor, loses to win – he donates the riches he attains, and he intentionally loses brawls with some sturdy yeomen so that he may add the cream of their crop to his band of Merry Men.

As will later influence Mark Twain’s description of carefree young Tom Sawyer and his rural sidekick, Huckleberry Finn, Robin and his band stem from play-games and ballads that glorified the outlaw leader (Potter and Calhoun 21). He is a costumed, theatrical “summer king” of playgames, whose name traveled over two countries beginning in the 15th century. However, the original Robin may have not been as lighthearted as we would like to believe. As Michael

Wheare mentions, in his essay “‘From the Castle Hill they came with violence’: The Edinburgh

Riots of 1561” (Potter and Calhoun 111), Scottish protesters and their leaders most likely provided inspiration for the merry leader of the men in green. Nevertheless, Robin Hood games were constantly promoted by local church authorities, aimed at fundraising, and even in May of

1595, when James VI left Edinburgh to avoid the plague, he was entertained by plays of Robin

Hood. From George Bernard Shaw to Howard Pyle, countless authors have tried their hand at rewriting the tales of Sherwood Forest, the Sheriff of Nottingham, and the best bowman in all of

England.

Medieval Robin

As Maurice Keen writes in The Outlaws of Medieval Legend (1961), Robin Hood was influenced by prior medieval legends, ranging from the venerable collection of King Arthur tales

8 to the lesser-known stories of the outlaw kings Gamelyn and Hereward. With the realistic takes on life, including the violence and danger of the outlaw ballads, these stories remind us that the glorified, romanticized life of Robin Hood is composed of layer upon layer of fabrications. The story of Hereward first gave a “romantic flavour” (Keen 9) to the term “outlaw,” and its original definition was simply placing an individual outside of the protection of the law of the land, as decided by the King or his courts; as an outlaw, an individual was civiliter mortuus (civilly dead). Such a sentence implied a weakness on the part of the law and political system, rather than upon the outlaw himself, and Hereward was the lineal ancestor of later English outlaws, who were organized rebels rather than casual nuisances. The similarities are striking:

“Hereward and the Potter” later transformed into “Robin Hood and the Potter,” both were known as “gentlemen of the road,” and were most likely of Anglo-Saxon ancestry, always battling the injustices of their Norman oppressors.

Other romances appeared prior to the popularization of Robin Hood tales as we are familiar with them today: the Romance of Fulk Fitzwarin (Keen 39), which portrays a two-fold protagonist, who grapples with bears and romantically rescues damsels in distress, and a fenland robber, a rebel idolized by his suppressed people; the Romance of Eustace the Monk (Keen 53), who is reminiscent of Friar Tuck; and the Tale of Gamelyn, the outlaw king. All of these outlaws possess a raison d'être of similar origins. While Robin Hood first appears to us in the 15th century, the romances of Fulk and Eustace appear as early as the 13th century, and modern versions are a conglomeration of oft-repeated about traditions and remembrances.

The ancestors of modern renditions, the original Robin Hood ballads, including the Geste of Robin Hood, which contains the popularized tales of Robin and the Potter, Guy of Gisbourne,

9 and Robin and the Monk, present a “Joly Robyn,” who haunts Barnesdale Forest in Yorkshire and Sherwood Forest in Nottinghamshire, and who is the prototype of modern Robin Hood.

No matter what gender or age we find our Robin Hood to be, and regardless of the location and time period he may inhabit, the outlaw ballad has become symbolic of an expression of discontent with society; “wicked men meet a merited downfall, and the innocent and unfortunate are relieved and rewarded” (Keen 145). Robin Hood, whether he is present in children’s, adolescent, or adult literature, has come to represent the common man’s demand for social justice, and the symbolic triumph of justice over evil.

The question remains, as we read of Robin Hood’s Merry Adventures across England: did he actually exist at some point in history? If he did not, why are we still so drawn to him after five centuries of old-fashioned tales? Of the triad of Scottish chroniclers who are the first to bring up the name of Robin Hood, two hail from the 15th century, and the third is from the early

16th century, yet they all attribute him to being a historical figure; some names that have been thrown around have been Andrew of Wyntoun, Walter Bower, and John Major (Keen 176). Yet, our hero has no birthplace, no remembered ancestry, and no childhood – while the Merry Men have a clear historic origin of their name, Robin Hood does not.

Robin has no celebrity status in history so “we must seek therefore for men of his stamp not in the chronicles but in the records of everyday businesses” (Keen 191). As Keen explicates, the “situation in outlaw ballads therefore reflects not only the genuine discontent with the working of the law in the age in which they were written, but also a genuine sympathy with those who had set it at defiance, which seems to have been felt over a wide social field (Keen 205)”.

The ballads seem more real to us because of their verisimilitude, rather than exaggerated

10 idealization, and we have come to accept the Robin Hood tales because of the “blindness of uneducated people who sincerely deplored corruption, but were too set in their ideas to perceive its root cause, which idealized the bandit into a figure typifying social justice” (Keen 207).

In a time where myth and history were divided by a barely discernable fine line (Keen

210), Robin Hood has come to belong to no one year or royal reign over another; rather, he is a protagonist of political history and social justice, and is not tied down to particular locations, times, or political parties. This is why Robin Hood has become such a beloved character to readers and audiences the world over; while the original ballads and tales may have been based upon the deeds of real people, they have transcended into the story of a hero who probably is imaginary, yet whose actions and impact on society paralleled those of the real men who were his protoypes, ranging across the Sherwood Forests of 14th and 15th century England.

Chapter 1 – In All Kinds of Weather, Merry Men Band Together

The first and markedly distinct character trait present in Robin Hood and the members of his band of Merry Men is steadfast loyalty – although Robin also promotes a strong sense of individuality, loyalty – first and foremost to the Crown and, then, to the band of Merry Men – is highly valued above all else. As Brockman writes, “Robin Hood enters this story as neither hero nor villain but merely as an illustration taken from the larger world of popular literature that the

Renaissance inherited from the Middle Ages and bequeathed in chapbook form to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries” (Brockman 2). Robin does not promote labels; his men are loyal to him and the band because they have volunteered to take on such a role, and choose to stay faithful to his values and beliefs. Pyle and other writers often refer to the Merry Men and

Robin as “companions,” but they are more than mere travelling buddies; their friendship never wavers, and Robin loves them, and they him, as much as if they were blood relations.

11 As illustrated in Pyle’s third chapter of his Merry Adventures, where Will Stutely is rescued by his “Good Companions,” from the villainy of the Sheriff of Nottingham and his cronies, the Merry Men are loyal to Robin Hood and accept his leadership role, despite the doubts or fears they may have at any given moment. When Robin organizes a questionable plot to save Will Stutely from the gallows, they immediately do as he requests, “But they said nothing aloud, swallowing their words, and doing as Robin bade them” (Pyle 35). With just a simple

“pep talk,” Robin is able to effect change in his men’s minds about a dangerous or reckless situation, or at least make it so that they disregard all potential harm and obey him, regardless of the odds stacked against them. It is this inspirational, motivational, and protective side of Robin that encourages his men to follow him blindly into all manner of trouble that they may find themselves due to their reckless games, much like little boys Tom and Huck.

To be sure, a leader is only as potent as his support system. The loyalty of the Merry Men to Robin is strong because it is reciprocated; as Robin emphatically declares to his men upon hearing of Will Stutely’s capture, “‘He shall not be hanged to-morrow day,’ cried Robin, ‘or, if he be, full many a one shall gnaw the sod, and many shall have cause to cry Alack-a-day!’” (Pyle

37). Robin rarely resorts to threats of violence or even chaos, but when it comes to protecting his men from evil or injustice, there are no limits as to what he will do to safeguard the welfare of his own people. At mention of Will Stutely’s perilous predicament, Robin immediately “clapped his horn to his lips and blew three blasts right loudly, and presently his good yeomen came running through the greenwood until sevenscore bold blades were gathered around him” (Pyle

37). Robin takes responsibility for the emotional happiness and personal welfare of his men and, so, they (and we, the audience) truly respect him as a leader. While he may be recognized as the

12 leader of the pack, in most renditions, he considers himself as just one of the boys, and any of his one Merry Men is deemed just as important as any other.

However, “Joly Robyn” has earned his name for good reason, and he is dedicated enough to his men to be more concerned about the safety of their lives than to be angry with those who have wronged his clan clad in Lincoln green. As Robin waits to hear the outcome of the rescue operation, he is mature enough – and less hell-bent on revenge – to experience “all his anger passing away like a breath from the window-pane, at the thought that perhaps his trusty right- hand man was in some danger of his life” (Pyle 85).

This loyalty of Robin’s extends beyond his Merry Men – Robin’s name is so well-known and beloved because he is there for anyone he feels deserves his care and protection, especially those in need, ranging from the peasant population to noblemen, the latter instance as exemplified in the tale of Sir Richard of the Lea and his plight of bankruptcy. When Robin first encounters the gloomy knight drudging his way through Sherwood Forest, and playfully tries to glean some riches off of him, he respects Sir Richard for honestly admitting that he is completely broke, owing debt money to the heartless Priory of Emmet. While Robin and his men usually take advantage of well-heeled visitors to the forest that they have claimed as their refuge and center of operations, they also afford due respect to kind-hearted and honest individuals, and are unfailingly loyal to the common folk.

Sir Richard is an interesting device in the adventures of Robin Hood, because he is one of the few men of aristocratic standing that Robin actually respects and will loyally offer aid and comfort to. True to his word, Sir Richard eventually returns the borrowed sum to Robin Hood by the deadline he had promised, and even asks the Priory for a pardon or at least a reduction of the

13 debt he is forced to pay them, so that he can preserve more of Robin’s money. However, because they scorn him, Sir Richard pulls a move reminiscent of Robin and tricks the Priory into unknowingly lowering their demand, so that they lose money in the process. Richard has become one of Robin’s allies and, so, expresses his loyalty by proving trustworthy to his benefactor, just as any of the Merry Men would.

On his journey to return the loan to Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest, Richard encounters

David of Doncaster, one of Robin’s beloved young Merry Men, participating in a wrestling match at Denby Fair, which has escalated into a full-blown brawl with the undefeated star of

Denby, William of the Scar. Young David is always praised for his skills in the ring, and has knocked William of the Scar unconscious so that the townspeople are raising a riot, fearing that their champion has been killed. Richard, loyal to Robin and what he stands for, including the members of his Merry Men band, rescues David from the mob and protects him, eventually overseeing to his safe return to Sherwood Forest. As Sir Richard wisely states – after buying the

Denby mob a round of drinks, so that they will be distracted from David – “[N]ever hereafterwards fall upon a man for being a stout yeoman” (Pyle 182). It is in Robin’s, and the yeoman’s, code not to unfairly attack a man who is playing by the rules. When Richard returns

David to Robin and the gang, “Quoth [Robin] in a trembling voice, ‘I owe thee a debt I can never hope to repay, Sir Richard, for let me tell thee, I would rather lose my right hand than have such ill befall young David of Doncaster as seemed like to come upon him at Denby’” (Pyle 183).

Whenever one of his men is in danger, Robin makes it his priority to save them.

Albeit Robin exudes devotion and fidelity to the Crown and his men, he also projects a strong sense of the importance of individuality and loyalty to oneself and one’s own values. For example, at the archery tournament at Nottingham, where Robin appears disguised as a simple

14 man he dubs “Jock,” the Sheriff is so taken with his archery skills that he asks him to join his ranks, but Robin replies, “Nay, that I will not…I will be mine own, and no man in all merry

England shall be my master” (Pyle 32). Although this is highly ironic, since Robin is considered the leader and master of his own men, he seems determined to promote self-worth and importance. This lends further appeal to him as an outlaw who disregards the control of those he deems unfit to rule over others, such as the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John, the brother of

King Richard.

However, Robin’s strength and loyalty is a double-edged sword, simultaneously a curse and a blessing; “Robin’s strength is also his flaw: loyalty” (Cech 12). Robin’s loyalty to Queen

Eleanor results in his attendance at the archery tournament and, thereby, his capture and angering the King; his loyalty to the safekeeping of his men results in many a chaotic chase and wreaking havoc upon the countryside, narrowly escaping capture each time; and his inner devotion to King

Richard leads to his departure from Sherwood Forest, to join the King on his Crusades in the

Holy Land – but, in the end, “Robin’s loyalty to King Richard leads him astray from Sherwood, estranging him further from the forest and the people he is so attached to there” (Cech 13). Had

Robin not been so loyal, he might have found himself embroiled in fewer dilemmas trying to rescue his men, and would have cut his losses but, then, the audience would not respect his brave and goodhearted character half as much.

Chapter 2 – On Pride and Humility

While Robin mockingly plays a coy, egotistical trickster, he prides himself and his men on their virtues of humility, selflessness, and willingness to engage in self-sacrifice. At the opening of Pyle’s version, Robin is quoted, “‘An’ I must drink sour ale, I must…but never have I yielded me to man before, and that without wound or mark upon my body. Nor, when I bethink

15 me, will I yield now. Ho, my merry men! Come quickly ” (Pyle 22). Robin Hood definitely prizes his reputation above all else – he is always curious to know what the people of England really think of him, especially those of the upper-class who generally find him to be an irritating nuisance.

Perhaps one of the best examples of humility that Robin attempts to set for his men is his reaction to Little John’s antics during the six (6) months that the latter lived under the Sheriff’s care as prized archer “Reynold Greenleaf.” Upon leaving the Sheriff’s hearth (Little John sleeps in when the Sheriff goes out hunting, expecting to meet his new servant there), Robin Hood’s right-hand man decides to thank the Sheriff for his provisions by conducting a walkthrough of the Sheriff’s quarters and “appropriating” whatever is pleasing to him. During this process, he is confronted by the Sheriff’s Cook, who demands to duel with Little John, inasmuch as the latter has disrespected his master: “Lion or no lion,” quoth the valorous Cook, “come thou straight forth, else thou art a coward heart as well as a knavish thief” (Pyle 68). This insult truly rattles

Little John, and so he must defend his dignity, as “[C]oward’s name have I never had; so, look to thyself, good Cook, for I come forth straight, the roaring lion I did speak of but now” (Pyle 68).

While Robin Hood wholeheartedly condones preserving or imposing reputations through a fair duel, he always tries to teach his men the value of humility. After commending Little John for bringing back a new companion, the Sheriff’s Cook, to his band of Merry Men, Robin honestly scolds him because “[T]hou hast stolen the Sheriff’s plate like some paltry thief. The

Sheriff hath been punished by us, and hath lost three hundred pounds, even as he sought to spoil another; but he hath done nought that we should steal his household plate from him” (Pyle 74).

To Robin, punishment must always be fair, just, and right – having emptied the Sheriff’s pockets at a feast in Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood deems that reclaiming the sum that was never the

16 Sheriff’s in the first place was punishment enough, and that the treasure trove of valuable belongings that Little John has filched from the Sheriff was pushing the boundaries of what is appropriate too far. Therefore, Robin makes amends for his man’s misdeeds by leading the

Sheriff personally out of the forest so that he will not get lost, thereby shocking the Sheriff, who is confused as to Robin’s small kindnesses when he and his men evince nothing but cruelty toward the Merry Men. The Sheriff of Nottingham is even more surprised when Robin returns his sack of silver goods to him, saying: “‘Take thou thine own again,’ he said, ‘and hearken to me, good Sheriff, take thou a piece of advice with it. Try thy servants well ere thou dost engage them again so readily.’ Then, turning, he left the other standing bewildered, with the sack in his hands” (Pyle 76). This is why we respect Robin; although he breaks numerous laws and violates social codes during his life as an outlaw, he is never selfish or avaricious, and always ensures that the price that the villains pay is just right, nothing more or less.

Robin and his men lead a simple life in Sherwood Forest, and he encourages his men to never take anything for granted, stating that, “Methinks I would rather roam this forest in the gentle springtime than be king of all merry England. What place in the broad world is as fair as this sweet woodland just now, and what king in all the world hath such appetite for plover’s eggs and lampreys as I for juicy venison and sparkling ale? Gaffer Swanthold speaks truly when he saith, ‘Bettr a crust with content than honey with a sour heart’” (Pyle 188). They never take from the aristocracy more than what they truly need, and never gloat upon their victories, unless one of their lives has been saved.

Chapter 3 – Testosterone in Tights

The question frequently arises when one thinks of Robin Hood: what role does masculinity, or lack thereof, play in a forest full of merry men, clad from head-to-toe in form-

17 fitting green tights, brandishing their bows and arrows, and constantly engaging in wrestling brawls? As Dr. John Cech writes in Pyle’s Robin Hood: Still Merry After All These Years, “The woods fairly ripples with muscle and good cheer” (Cech 12). While some versions of the tales include an allusion to Robin’s love interest, Maid Marian, that is simply a backdrop, and the authors are far more concerned with telling the tales of Robin and his adventures with his Merry

Men.

First, let us observe Robin Hood’s wardrobe choices. As John Marshall points out in

“Picturing Robin Hood in Early Print and Performance: 1500-1590,” Robin is “one of very few characters, real or fictional, who can be identified by a single piece of costume” (Potter and

Calhoun 60); Robin’s green and feathered bycocket hat is immediately recognized by audiences worldwide. Although Robin Hood is, as discussed above, tied more to social history than political history, there is speculation that his appearance is based upon a certain woodcut in

Geoffrey Chaucer’s classic Canterbury Tales, the Knight’s Yeoman’s illustration, which was most likely trimmed in a way to create the illusion of a bycocket hat, thereby presenting us with our modern image of Robin Hood, the nimble archer of Nottinghamshire. Perhaps this woodcut of the Knight and his Yeoman inspired the duo of Robin Hood and Little John.

While the appearance of Robin and his men in the woods has a fairly natural succession and we do not feel the need to question the situation, one must reasonably wonder about “the sevenscore merry men” (Pyle 1) that all inhabit the nest of Merry Men in the heart of the greenwood. Pyle attributes this type of male bonding to a similar relationship between King

Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, merely a leader and his very loyal, admiring men; as

Pyle describes the opening scene of his Merry Adventures, he mentions that “Never did the

Knights of Arthur’s Round Table meet in a stouter fight than did these two [Robin and Little

18 John]” (Pyle 6). While in one of his initial conversations with Sir Richard of the Lea, Robin proudly introduces his men: “They share and share alike with me all joys and troubles, gains and losses” (Pyle 160).

Robin also shares a similar recruitment process to that of King Arthur and his devoted

Knights; although Robin’s men are hardly the caliber of knights of the Round Table, as he tends to pick them up wherever he may roam and in whatever various and sundry situations he may find himself in. “‘Will I join thy band?’ cried the Tanner (Arthur a Bland), joyfully; ‘ay, marry will I! Hey for a merry life!’” (Pyle 87); having heard tales of Robin far and wide during their lifetimes, just as the audience reads of Robin now in contemporary times, they are ecstatic about joining his exclusive and renowned team of personable pirates.

Like King Arthur, Robin Hood and his men also have a “quest” to right wrongs, to rob from the rich and give to the poor, i.e. social justice. Pyle’s story picks up around Robin’s recruitment of Little John, but we are given the impression that Robin has become adept at judging men’s characters and strengths as he recruits various candidates. We also are provided with some degree of insight into what Robin provides his men in return for their service, as he informs Little John:

“Now hark ye, good youth, wilt thou stay with me and be one of my band? Three

suits of Lincoln green shalt thou have each year, beside forty marks in fee, and

share with us whatsoever good shall befall us. Thou shalt eat sweet venison and

quaff the stoutest ale, and mine own good right-hand man shalt thou be, for never

did I see such a cudgel-player in all my life before. Speak! Wilt thou be one of my

good merry men?” (Pyle 8).

19 Not only are these fees simple, but they also imply that Robin provides his men with all of the earthly desires that they could otherwise want. Upon his initiation into the group of Merry

Men, the individual is usually rechristened with an appropriate nickname, akin to the Arthurian

King’s practice of proclaiming his men Knights of the Round Table; to illustrate, John Little is redubbed “Little John,” Will Stutely’s idea of a pun since the man is so brawny.

In addition to their choice of tights as part of their wardrobe, the Merry Men often display many bouts of stereotypically feminine emotions; this seems strange since no women reside with them in the forest, so the men have to provide more of a balance. To illustrate, the resolution of the first adventure, the men, including Robin, heartily weep when Will Stutely is rescued from the gallows. Additionally, Robin exhibits very, very close bonds with his men, which may be viewed as either a parental-child connection or perhaps one reminiscent of romantic or sensual emotions. As Robin states when his right-hand man, his closest friend, embarks upon a potentially dangerous trip to the Fair at Nottingham Town, “It is much against my will…ne’ertheless, if thou dost wish it, get thee gone, but bear thyself seemingly, Little John, for thou art mine own right hand man and I could ill bear to have harm befall thee” (Pyle 58).

Homosocial/Homoerotic Aspects

Pyle’s descriptions of Robin and his men also cause us to question the orientations and preferences of the characters: “Around Robin Hood that day there lay the very flower of English yeomanrie” (Pyle 80). There is constantly a weird juxtaposition, yet connection, between the masculine, the homoerotic and homosocial, and the feminine. As discussed by Yoshiko Uéno in his essay “Male Cross-Dressing in Kabuki: Benten the Thief” (Potter and Calhoun 209), many countries possess an outlaw character type similar to that of Robin Hood. In Japan, it is in the

20 tale “The Five Bandits” that this archetype of “Shiranami-mono”, or “thief/bandit” first appears in the latter half of the nineteenth century (1862), known as Benten Kozo.

In more modern renditions of the Robin Hood tradition, Will of Gamwell, also known as

“Will Scarlet,” and Allan-a-Dale, the minstrel, are representations of how the Robin Hood stories border on the edge of masculinity, and even delve into the feminine qualities of their characters.

In the 1938 film, The Adventures of Robin Hood, in which Errol Flynn depicts the titular character, Little John criticizes Will Scarlet for not participating in a brawl: “He took care not to wet his feathers” (The Adventures of Robin Hood). While Robin Hood is often depicted as theatrical, flamboyant, boastful, charming, and overconfident, he is constantly preoccupied with

Will’s effeminate dress, appearance, and mannerisms, causing us to question his stance on male- male relationships (Pyle 90). Even though Robin highly values his nephew, Will Gamwell, as one of the Merry Men, he does admit to Little John that he doubts that such a foppish, feathered fancypants such as Will can overpower him: “Thou sayst he is a sturdy fellow, Little John. Lie thou here and watch till I show thee how woodland life toughens a man, as easy living, such as thine hath been of late, drags him down” (Pyle 90). In fact, the Merry Men have jokingly – but affectionately – rechristened Will of Gamwell according to his fashionable preening habits:

“[S]o, because of thy gay clothes, thou shalt henceforth and for aye be called Will Scarlet” (Pyle

96). In addition to his hardly-rugged manner of dress, whereas every other Merry Man, including

Robin himself, is cloaked in an earthy, masculine Lincoln green, Robin disapproves of Will

Scarlet’s effeminate ballads and proclaims: “’T is well sung,” quoth Robin; “but, cousin, I tell thee plain, I would rather hear a stout fellow like thee sing some lusty ballad than a finicking song of flowers and birds, and what not” (Pyle 100). They are men of the forest, sturdy creatures

21 who can survive on their own without the aid of society; Robin prefers that all of his men promote that idealized image.

Robin also pokes fun at the band’s minstrel, Allan-a-Dale, who is discovered sobbing over lost love; as Will Stutely phrases it: “I do hate to see a tall, stout fellow so sniveling like a girl of fourteen over a dead tomtit” (Pyle 118). Allan is fond of telling stories and tales, including those of the King Arthur tradition, among his companions, but his fragile emotions and love of sweet music have gained him an effeminate reputation that only is reinforced by Disney’s cartoon portrayal of the character as a crooning rooster with billowy sleeves, a stylish pompadour hairstyle, and a miniature mandolin. The yeomen are constantly demeaning his fighting skills; ironically, out of all of the men, Allan has the most consistent relationship with a female, present in all of the Robin Hood stories. Allan may cry over lost love, but his forbidden relationship is with the beautiful Ellen o’ the Dale, whose hand has been promised by her insensitive father to the very old and very rich Sir Stephen. As Robin agrees to help Allan out of his plight and retrieve his true love for him to marry, the yeomen constantly smirk about Allan’s fighting prowess but, ironically, Robin usually chooses his minstrel as one of the three men who serves as his personal backup force: “It was only a week ago when I saw him skipping across the hill like a yearling doe. A fine sight he was then, with a flower at his ear and a cock’s plume stuck in his cap; but now, methinks, our cockerel is shorn of his gay feathers” (Pyle 118). Robin and the majority of the men – probably due to insecurity issues – constantly poke fun at Will

Scarlet and Allan a Dale for their effeminate ways, yet the two have been approved of enough to be inducted to serve with Robin Hood and remain by his side throughout the adventures in his life.

22 One of the most playful of Robin Hood renditions, Mel Brooks’ film Robin Hood: Men in

Tights, satirically reminds the audience of questioning the relationships between the Merry Men, as Robin Hood’s sidekick (a very young Dave Chapelle) exclaims: “Let's get out of this ladies’ clothing [disguise] and get into our tights!” (Robin Hood: Men in Tights) With the cast’s performance of the titular musical number, “Men in Tights,” we are humorously reminded of the juxtaposition of manly yeomen that prowl the forests to serve justice to the Prince’s men, and who provide for the poor through trickery or brute force. Nevertheless, this light-hearted take on the tales reminds us that, despite the many questionable aspects of Robin Hood’s masculinity, he surely is a man of the forest, protector of his people, and a powerful leader: “We rob from the rich and give to the poor / That’s right! / We may look like sissies / But watch what you say / Or else we’ll put out your lights!” (Robin Hood: Men in Tights) As Little John sagely observes during the film: “Let’s face it. You’ve gotta be a man to wear tights!” Certainly, Robin is confident enough to portray himself so, and inspires his men to follow his lead.

Chapter 4 – Robbin’ the Rich: The Gift of Generosity

As Robin teaches his men, honesty – at least, their perception of it – is integral to success, and provides one with a rewarding feeling inside (and out, if certain wealthy, unscrupulous visitors haplessly find themselves in the midst of Sherwood Forest). During one of Robin’s adventures, when he dresses up as a beggar and attempts to experience life from the perspective of the less fortunate, Pyle writes that even the dogs and lasses did not have any qualms about

Robin’s character, “[f]or dogs know an honest man by his smell, and an honest man Robin was – in his own way” (Pyle 209). Even Pyle acknowledges the subjectivity of the terms “honesty” and

“generosity” when it comes to Robin Hood and his ways – although he is a bandit, he only does it to promote his own particular brand of justice.

23 As he jokes with a Bishop, Robin’s band and their lodgings in the forest are popularly known as a “den of thieves” (Pyle 165); yet, they only rob the rich to give to the poor. Robin has mercy upon those allies in honesty and generosity that he encounters along his travels (Pyle

167); for example, he makes sure that his men do not tamper with the merchant Quentin’s goods, although they pilfer the rest of the store that the greedy nobleman possesses, since Quentin is a purportedly honest fellow, and it would break their code if they took from him what was not rightfully theirs.

When it comes to dealing with honest men, Robin makes sure that they are not harmed by his bargains; Sir Richard of Lea owes money to the greedy Priory of Emmet, but Robin has pity upon such a gentle and goodhearted being: “Put up thy purse, Sir Richard…[f]ar be it from me to doubt the word of so gentle a knight. The proud I strive to bring low, but those that walk in sorrow I would aid if I could” (Pyle 161).

Chapter 5 – Beware of Damsels in Distress!

Robin may not be a knight in shining armor, but many versions of the tales of his life often include the plight of a damsel in distress – namely, Maid Marian, the royal ward. In Pyle’s rendition, which is geared more towards a younger audience which revels in the tales of Tom and

Huck, there is only a brief mention of “mine own maid” Marian (Pyle 200), without further explanation. Nevertheless, there is no shortage of references to attractive females in the tales.

Little John usually is the male involved in such scenes, which are always comical; to illustrate, as a disguised Little John balances three baskets of eggs to help some young women out, “Then kissing each lass sweetly, he wished them all good den, and left them. But the maids stood looking after him as he walked away whistling. ‘What a pity,’ quoth one, ‘that such a stout,

24 lusty lad should be in holy orders’” (Pyle 192). While Little John recognizes his supposed

“problem,” Robin is not usually the lovesick one of the duo; Little John’s lamenting of, “‘Little

John! Little John!’ said he sadly to himself, shaking his head the while, ‘woman will be thy ruin yet, if thou dost not take better care of thyself’” (Pyle 192). This is highly ironic because it is, in fact, Robin who will fall prey to the devices of women, being hunted down by the Crown on account of his relationship with Maid Marian and, later dying at the hand of his nefarious cousin, the Prioress of Kirklees.

It is in the film tradition of Robin Hood that the character begins to adopt a more romanticized role, playing both a lover and a hero, and seeking justice while maintaining a forbidden relationship with his true love. This mindset begins in 1922’s Robin Hood, in the film starring Douglas Fairbanks in the title role as the very charming and dashing archer in green, ever seeking the heart and hand of Lady Marian Fitzwalter. Although the film is silent, we can gain a sense of the lofty and romanticized style used here: one of the placards reads that in the

England of Robin’s time, “her ballads sing of jolly friars, of troubadours, of gallant outlaws who roamed her mighty forests” (Robin Hood 1922).

In this film, Prince John’s right-hand man and confidant, Sir Guy of Gisbourne, is depicted as a royal crony, rather than a condemned outlaw, and he provides the motivation behind many of Robin’s adventures – comically dorky-looking and googly-eyed, he is always seeking the affection of Marian, but is awkwardly rejected every single time. The fight over who is more masculine of a suitor is the catalyst for Guy’s schemes against Robin – he cheats during a jousting tournament; becomes angry and jealous when Robin goes to war with King Richard as his second-in-command; and constantly harasses Marian when she is alone. Although the film is silent, from the shift in musical tonations and the exaggerated facial expressions emphasized, we

25 can clearly see that a romantic rivalry over Maid Marian fuels the fires between Robin and his archenemy.

When Fairbanks introduces us to his character at the beginning with the line, “I am afeard of women,” responding to the King’s query about why he does not have a maid, the ironic part is that he has every right to be, as women seem to be the root cause of most of the major negative issues in his life. This is why we adore Robin; not only is he a brave leader, but he is a chivalrous one, constantly dashing about and sacrificing his personal safety to protect Marian from Prince

John and Sir Guy, even though he appreciates the potentially dire consequences. Fairbanks’

Robin is completely immersed in his relationship: “My Lord King, I go to the Holy Land with half a heart. The other half I leave in the keeping of a maid.” His last wish before leaving for the

Crusades is for his squire, Little John, to protect her, and when he is led to believe that Marian is dead upon his return (actually, she is hiding for her life), his goal is to seek out those who murdered her.

Upon the reunion of Marian and Robin, Robin is overwhelmed and overjoyed, skipping, hopping, and frolicking everywhere, finally reunited with “His Lady and his King,” referring to his two flags, her veil and the three lion crested banner of Richard. As in most film versions of the tales, Sir Guy finally is killed by Robin when he approaches Maid Marian and sexually harasses or assaults her (depending on the film director’s vision). Although the Prince’s men catch them, and Robin is placed on the gallows once more, Marian still exhibits her reciprocal love for him, and almost stabs herself to save herself from a certain fate, expressing the same level of self-sacrifice that Robin has always demonstrated for her. Mel Brooks does a fine job of satirizing the romance in his film Robin Hood: Men in Tights; between Maid Marian’s iron-clad chastity belt (which only Robin has been granted the key to open), the inheritance left to him by

26 his father, while Ridley Scott, in his 2010 version, makes Robin Longstride and Marion Loxley a seriously enamored, long-distance and long-term couple (Robin Hood 2010).

MEL BROOKS’ VISION Robin Hood: Oh, my darling, I'm ready for that kiss now. Maid Marian: But first, I must warn you. It could only be a kiss. For I am a virgin and could never... go all the way. Robin Hood: But... Maid Marian: Unless I were married. Or if a man pledged his endless love to me. Robin Hood: Yes… Maid Marian: Or if I knew that he desperately cared for me. Or if he were really cute!

RIDLEY SCOTT’S VISION

Marion Loxley: Once before I said goodbye to a man going to war. He never came back. Robin Longstride: Ask me nicely. [She smiles, steps forward. They kiss]

Robin Longstride: [fervently] I love you, Marion.

Whichever version of the story we choose to accept, it certainly is intriguing how the female characters significantly impact Robin’s life.

Chapter 6 – A Fair Fight

One of the central themes in the Robin Hood adventures is, of course, the battles, both won and lost. As Robin jokingly says in Mel Brook’s Robin Hood: Men in Tights, “I lost. I lost?

Wait a second, I’m not supposed to lose. Let me see the script.” But, it is true – whether in

Pyle’s, Brooks’, Scotts’, or Disney’s celluloid classics, Robin indisputably is one of the best fighters in all the land and, certainly, is the best archer bar none. Most of the men he loses a fight

27 to, we come to love nevertheless, as they later are inducted into his band of Merry Men. He almost always defeats his enemies; in those few instances in which he is defeated by a rather unimportant individual, we feel protective of his threatened safety and well-being.

One of the first adventures in which Robin faces a fight is in the first portion of Pyle’s tales, “Robin and the Tinker.” In response to the Sheriff’s promise of fourscore golden coins, initially “none could be found in all Nottingham Town to serve this warrant, for fear of cracked pates and broken bones” (Pyle 15); Robin and his men have a fearful reputation for fighting – and winning. The Tinker, Wat o’ the Crabstaff, attempts to fight Robin, but is instead deceived and defeated. His overconfidence in his ability to beat Robin seems outlandish to the audience.

At the Queen’s archery tournament, which Robin risks both life and limb to attend: “And now a low murmur ran all among that great crowd, for never before had London seen such shooting as this; and never again would it see it after Robin Hood’s day had gone” (Pyle 232).

Despite the fact that he wins most of the time, Robin is neither boastful, nor prideful; he distributes the prizes fairly to the top three deserving participants, including the King’s men.

Despite Robin’s attempt to be a fair fighter, which sets him apart from the sneaky and cowardly Prince John, and the cheating Guy of Gisbourne, there usually is a character in a position of power who does not care for Robin and would prefer to see him imprisoned or killed.

In these stories, kings always seem to have some problem asserting their power, as Robin Hood usurps them. Robin seeks justice and fairness for all, offering to repay debts and remember those who have treated him well: “I will show thee that Robin Hood never forgets these things” (Pyle

238). Although he tricks people often, he does it “fairly,” in a sense – he pays the Cobbler for his clothes, and although the King’s men capture the Cobbler unknowingly dressed as Robin, whom

28 they seek, “Robin stood looking after them, and when they were gone he laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks; for he knew that no harm would befall the honest fellow, and he pictured to himself the Bishop’s face when good Quince was brought before him as Robin Hood” (Pyle

247). He is a fighter, but he never seeks to intentionally harm, and certainly not to kill, unless he deems it absolutely necessary.

Robin’s checkered reputation certainly precedes him – in the Bed and Breakfast he is staying at, in “The Chase of Robin Hood,” he is paired with a bedfellow late in the night, because of the inn’s lack of vacancies, and Pyle writes, “As for the friar, had he known whom

Robin Hood was, you may well believe he would almost as soon have slept with an adder as with the man he had for a bedfellow” (Pyle 248).

Chapter 7 – On Outlaws

Robin and the Sheriff

If Robin is an outlaw, an individual condemned by the law and society, then, why is he such a beloved character? Although the Sheriff, Prince John and, sometimes Guy of Gisbourne

(among other characters in the stories) despise him and the type of justice he stands for, Robin virtually always is consistently peaceful in his ways, fair in his judgment, and cheerful as can be.

There is no doubt that Robin Hood has performed his share of violent deeds, from the downfall and death of the cruel Sheriff of Nottingham, to the robbery of the Abbot of St. Mary’s, to the gruesome death of Guy of Gisbourne. In each of these events, however, we see more of the medieval desire to seek retribution rather than justice, and we have come to accept that the outlaw’s value is preserved (despite his crimes or misdeeds) by reason of his perseverance seeking to do “right” in the world.

29 As Keen writes, our affection for such characters as the archetypal Robin Hood is a warning to modern society “that injustice cannot be tolerated just because it is a part of the system, for the anger which such injustice in the end awakens is unrestrained” (Keen 218). By society’s norms and standards, we ought to fear and hate outlaws, and uphold those in the service of protecting us, such as our leaders and our police force; as the Sheriff perplexedly wonders,

“Robin Hood steals money from my pocket, forcing me to hurt the public, and…they love him for it?” (Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves). Yet, the Sheriff, in every version of the tale, is either completely incompetent or a bumbling idiot, such as Brooks’ depiction of the Sheriff of

Rottingham, who confuses every single word out of his mouth, to wit:

Sheriff of Rottingham: You know, this wasn't a very smart thing to do, Locksley. I'll pay for this! [pause]

Sheriff of Rottingham: YOU'LL pay for this! (Robin Hood: Men in Tights).

As Sir Guy says to the Sheriff in the Errol Flynn film (The Adventures of Robin Hood

1938): “You couldn’t capture [Robin] if he sat in your lap shooting arrows at a crow.” We would rather, it seems, identify with the hero of the story who always prevails, than the inept and corrupt law enforcement official who symbolizes an embarrassment to the system.

Pyle’s audience roots for the outlaw, and this “choice also reflects an American preoccupation with the figure of the outlaw – a pop culture interest that probably could not have been more ‘in the air’ than it was at the time of Pyle’s writing Robin Hood” (Cech 12), in a time when boys’ greatest role models in literature included King Arthur and the Knights of the Round

Table, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, and the great leaders and pioneers in history included such adventurous souls as Teddy Roosevelt and Lewis and Clark. Pyle was, in fact, personal

30 friends with President Theodore Roosevelt, who once observed that, “there is something very curious in the reproduction here on this continent of essentially the conditions of ballad growth which obtained in medieval England, including, by the way, Jesse James taking the place of

Robin Hood” (Cech 12).

However, in order to properly gauge Robin’s status as an outlaw, we must look at his origins closely. As Dr. John Cech writes of the archetype, “The outlaw may be simply an older

(though a certainly more lethal) version of that figure whom Leslie Fiedler dubs the ‘Good Bad

Boy,’ the mischief-maker with the heart of gold” (Cech 12). We still feel a connection to Robin because he has a heart, rather than being ruthless, and is often a comic fooler/foiler. Additionally, the reasoning behind the Sheriff’s death warrant for him seems a bit strained, as his two reasons for bringing Robin to justice are: “first, because he wanted the two hundred pounds and, next, because the forester that Robin Hood had killed was of kin to him” (Pyle 4). Not only do we not view Robin as a murderer, but the man also feels guilty for the rest of his life about the very few lives he has been constrained to take.

The reversal of official/outlaw roles in the Robin Hood tradition also causes us to support

Robin. As the Sheriff ruthlessly declares: “I have tried law, and I have tried guile, and I have failed in both; so I will try what may be done with might” (Pyle 34). Robin may be outside the boundaries of the law, but he often resorts to harmless deception to ease his way out of bad situations or into better ones. Unlike the Sheriff, Robin is both merciful and brave, sparing lives and bloodshed if at all possible, whereas the Sheriff will burn down an entire village if need be simply in a futile attempt to capture Robin: “Now Robin Hood and his band might have slain half of the Sheriff’s men had they desired to do so, but they let them push out of the press and get them gone, only sending a bunch of arrows after them to hurry them in their flight” (Pyle 43).

31 We also admire Robin’s success as an outlaw because of his boldness, as compared to the

Sheriff’s flaky personality and reluctance to actually fight fairly; as Will Stutely shouts after the fleeing Sheriff’s backside, “Thou wilt never catch bold Robin Hood if thou dost not stand to meet him face to face” (Pyle 43). Even King Richard and Prince John find the Sheriff incompetent and unfit for his position, as the King condescendingly warns him of his lack of job security: “But look well to it, master Sheriff, for I will have my laws obeyed by all men within my kingdom, and if thou art not able to enforce them thou art no sheriff for me. So look well to thyself, I say, or ill may befall thee as well as all the thieving knaves in Nottinghamshire. When the flood cometh it sweepeth away grain as well as chaff” (Pyle 26). While this ultimatum may provide the Sheriff with further reasons to despise Robin and all that he stands for, as well as how much the people love him, this does not alter the audience’s preference of Robin over the evil, plotting Sheriff.

The major contrast between Robin and the Prince and Sheriff’s men is the unconditional bravery of the Merry Men, who always finish whatever they start. This is demonstrated in the

Disney film (Robin Hood 1973), in which the Prince is an anthropomorphic lion, an ironic choice since he is such a cowardly king of the jungle (or forest). Every time someone mentions the Queen, Prince John and King Richard’s mother, the Prince reverts to his infantile self, resorting to thumb-sucking and curling up in the fetal position as reassurance. Whereas Robin

Hood boldly and proudly furnishes the poor community with money so that they may pay their unfair taxes and just barely survive, the cowardly Sheriff arrives at each family’s door like the

Big Bad Wolf that Disney depicts him as, but he is not internally brave, and simply hides behind the reputation of his name and title to support the public’s fear and avoidance of him. For example, when the Sheriff shows up at Skippy the Bunny’s birthday party, and takes away the

32 only farthing that the bunny family owns, displaying his pure villainy, Robin counteracts this by appearing as a blind beggar at the party, presenting Skippy with a bow and arrow (and his very own Robin Hood bycocket hat), taking pure pleasure in the child’s simple happiness. Prince John and the Sheriff have, by extreme contrast, the most negative reputation in the eyes of their countrymen; when young Skippy accidentally launches an arrow into Prince John’s courtyard, the children are terrified (as they always are in the film or book versions of the tales), and bashful Toby the Turtle expresses his fears that the Prince will chop off their heads.

Robin Hood and Guy of Gisbourne

The true outlaw of the Robin Hood tales is Sir Guy of Gisbourne who, ironically, has been knighted, where in several versions, Robin Hood is not necessarily a man of noble birth.

Pyle’s description of Guy of Gisbourne is eerie, with his black cloak, and hawk-like appearance

(Pyle 257). The stark contrast between the evil Guy and the brave Robin is painfully obvious, and we could not possibly classify them in the same category as “outlaws.” Guy senses the strong presence and personality of Robin immediately: “‘By the bones of the Daemon Odin,’ said he, ‘thou art the boldest spoken man that ever I have seen in all my life’” (Pyle 258).

Another one of the differences between Guy and Robin is that Guy refers to himself as an outlaw

– it has become his sole title and identity. He even scoffs at the public’s reference to Robin as a possible fellow in this profession – although Robin has been exiled, Guy does not consider his actions very much like an “outlaw”; “Why, he an outlaw, forsooth! Why I hear that he hath never let blood in all his life, saving when he first came to the forest” (Pyle 259).

Although we do have some doubts as to Robin’s classification as simply an exiled, fallen hero or a full outlaw, when he finally kills Guy, we understand that this is one of those dire situations in which Robin had no choice but to shed blood, as “[m]ore than once the point of

33 Robin Hood’s sword felt the softness of flesh, and presently the ground began to be sprinkled with bright red drops, albeit not one of them came from Robin’s veins” (Pyle 260). Even though

Guy would have willingly – and enthusiastically – murdered Robin in cold blood, probably in his sleep, Robin still feels a pang of regret and pain for having to extinguish a life, even the life of one so bloodthirsty: “This is the first man I have slain since I shot the King’s forester in the hot days of my youth. I ofttimes think bitterly, even yet, of that first life I took, but of this I am glad as though I had slain a wild boar that lay waste a fair country” (Pyle 260).

As Dr. John Cech writes, Pyle’s version of the Robin Hood tradition has added on an aspect that was not included in any of the original ballads: “a moral recognition on Robin’s part about what he has done: ‘meanwhile, Robin Hood ran through the greenwood. Gone was all the joy and brightness from everything, for his heart was sick within him, and it was borne upon his soul that he had slain a man’” (Cech 13). Thus, unlike Guy of Gisbourne, who relishes his acts of revenge and looks forward to bloodshed, and Prince John, who heedlessly kills men needlessly with a simple command to his guards, Robin simply, but profoundly, has been completely altered by the act of killing another human being, which helps us understand why he disliked going to the Crusades and fighting in the Holy Land: “Once I slew a man, and never do I wish to slay a man again, for it is bitter for the soul to think thereon” (Cech 13).

Chapter 8 – Loyalty to the Lion-Hearted

It hardly seems necessary to add that, not only is Robin known for his extreme fidelity to his Merry Men and to his Maid Marian, but also for his loyalty and obedience to the rightful holders of the Crown. This is an admirable trait, particularly considering how much trouble his beliefs get him into when Prince John and his cronies come to power. In the film with Douglas

34 Fairbanks (Robin Hood 1922), when Robin finds out about Prince John and Guy’s conspiracy against the throne he so highly respects, Robin is afraid to disappoint the King or convince him to return to England from the Crusades. Consequently, he requests permission for leave to return to England without justifying it and telling the truth. The King rejects his request immediately, and when Robin and his squire (Little John) attempt to leave the Holy Land fight to save

England, Guy accuses him of treason, shoots him with a crossbow, and has guards beat him up for “deserting.”

Robin is willing to sacrifice his very life for the King he loves so much, and even takes the punishment that the King doles out upon him (exile, rather than death, but it is tantamount to death), unaware of how Robin only wants to protect him. As quoted in the film Robin Hood:

Prince of Thieves: “Nobility’s not a birthright – it’s defined by one’s actions.” Whether our hero is known as Robert Locksley, Earl of Huntingdon, or simply Robin Hood, outlaw of Sherwood

Forest, his courageous manner and support of the Crown has bestowed upon him a presence of nobility that Prince John or the aristocrats who aid him may never achieve, despite their regal titles. As Guy asks Robin, “By what right do you interfere with the King’s justice?”; his response was a bit saucy, but certainly acceptable: “By a better right than you have to misuse it” (The

Adventures of Robin Hood 1938). Similarly, Marian is, at first, taken about by Robin’s bold character: “Why, you speak treason!”; Robin responds, “Fluently” (The Adventures of Robin

Hood 1938); but he will always be the people’s champion, because he firmly stands up against what is wrong.

As Marian says in this film to Robin, “You’re strange because you want to do something about it.” In Ridley Scott’s 2010 film, Robin Hood, Robin Longstride is blatantly forthright with his King, when asked of his opinion concerning the Crusades in the Holy Land; he is not afraid

35 to tell even the King that he believes that the current events are flawed, and that a massacre in the

Holy Land in the supposed name of “justice” does not render it morally right or justifiable. Not only is the modern Robin extremely concerned with the spiritual and moral implications of his people’s actions, complaining that such mass, coldhearted killings would cause the English people to “be godless” (Scott), but he advises his king that the underdog may, indeed, one day prevail, ironically as in the story of his own life: “Rise and rise again until lambs become lions”

(Scott).

Speaking of lions, Disney’s 1973 Robin Hood is not afraid to confront the Crown if necessary, as he prioritizes the welfare of his Merry Men and the people of Nottinghamshire and the whole of England above any one mortal man, even one with a crown upon his head. When

Robin the fox corrects Prince John, claiming that the correct king is Richard, he bares his fangs

(a rare occurrence for the usually “cute and cuddly” Disney prototypes), John then orders

Robin’s beheading, and all hell breaks loose. Little John, with a few tricky maneuvers, threatens the Prince with a sharp, gleaming dagger, and so the battle begins, with a horde of royal rhino and crocodile guards, hungrily seeking to devour the small mammalian, Robin.

Chapter 9 – Disguises and Deceit: Trickster Robin

“100 gold pieces? That’s all? I’ll have to annoy the Sheriff more.”

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

The Merry Life

Robin Hood and his men lived merrily, “for it was little the outside striving of the world troubled them” (Pyle 256). As Helen Phillips writes in “‘Merry’ and ‘Greenwood’: A History of

Some Meanings,” Robin and his troop practice a mode of life that is “benign criminally, happy

36 homelessness, and a sympathetic form of thieving” (Potter and Calhoun 84). It was simply a tradition of the times: from the 16th to 18th century, “Merry” as part of a printed titled was a prime term for selling ballads, songs, and literature. The term had a patriotic and uplifting connotation, giving us a vision of Robin as a Peter Pan-esque figure, a man who acts like a boy who is free from all care, and who forever lives a life of reckless adventure. As for his band of

Merry Men, this unconventional group of outlaw comrades is comprised of yeomen, which originally derives from the term “Yonge men,” inviting us to consider that the Merry Men live as boys wreaking havoc eternally in Sherwood Forest, always managing to evade punishment and capture (Knight). Quite frankly, how could one manage not to be merry, living in Pyle’s “Edenic

England,” “where Robin and his men . . . ‘right merrily…dwelt within the depths of Sherwood

Forest, suffering neither care nor want, but passing the time in merry games of archery or bouts of cudgel play, living upon the King’s venison, washed down with draughts of ale of October brewing.’” (Cech 12)

A Master of Disguises

Robin and his men prove to be so adept at evading the consequences of their merry romps largely due to of his skills as the archetypal “borrower” and master of disguises, “the quicksilver trickster incarnate” (Cech 11). Yet, as the Sheriff points out, “Whether he be dressed as priest or beggar, knight or palmer, what disguise can conceal the finest archer in all of England?” (The

Adventures of Robin Hood 1938). As the audience, we clearly discern Robin through his various disguises, and we laugh, while his enemies seem always to be caught off-guard and quickly defeated.

37 Robin’s most popular disguise is his choice of wardrobe at the main archery tournament in Nottinghamshire, as “a stranger in scarlet, who wore a patch over one eye” (Pyle 29), which

Walt Disney Studios translated as a stork clad in crimson. Robin introduces himself as Jock o’

Teviotdale, but his shabby costume seems comical to us, and we almost expect his captors to see through his impromptu disguises. Query whether Robin Hood really is that clever of an actor, or is it just a simpler plot to have his disguises constantly accepted?

Robin’s next costume change is his trade of outfits with a passing Butcher, which he does simply on a whim to amuse himself and see what possible mischief he can accomplish in

Nottinghamshire, while catching the Sheriff unawares. Once in the town market, Robin changes the price of meat depending on the social class of the customer, or their gender – while he gives away the high-quality meat cheerfully to women by the penny, he charges the greedy noblemen an absurd price (Pyle 50). Robin always seems to attract the Sheriff’s attention, even while in disguise, suggesting that the fictional universe in Nottinghamshire and Sherwood really does depend upon the every action of its hero. Chatting with the Sheriff, Robin easily manages to trick him into buying the “Butcher’s” fake cattle, and he passes himself off, interestingly enough, as

Robert o’Locksley (Pyle 52).

Robin is, of course, not the only one of his men to utilize disguises: on various occasions,

Little John also puts on a performance, his most noted persona taking advantage of the Sheriff’s hospitality – and his silver collection – Reynold Greenleaf. For the most part, however, the disguises employed by Robin and his men are orchestrated with the best of intentions, as seen in

“The Merry Adventure with Midge the Miller.” In his encounter with the headstrong Miller’s son, Midge, we are given a prime example both of Robin’s use of disguises and his generally cheerful attitude towards life. As Midge attempts to attack him, Robin’s anger is short-lived, as it

38 usually dissipates fast and lapses into amusement: “But Robin’s anger could not hold, so first his eyes twinkled, and then in spite of all he broke into a laugh” (Pyle 111). Robin’s laugh is contagious, and we, the audience, laugh along with him when he assures Midge, who does not recognize him: “‘In truth I fear Robin Hood no more than I do myself,’ quoth Jolly Robin” (Pyle

106). Pyle often writes of Robin’s tendency to “Always look on the bright side of life” (à la Eric

Idle and Monty Python), a life without troubles, and full of playing dress-up and soldier: “Ever and anon he would skip and leap or sing a snatch of song, for pure joyousness of the day; for, because of the sweetness of the springtide, his heart was as lusty within him as that of a colt newly turned out to grass” (Pyle 200).

As Pyle notes, “for it took but little to tickle Robin’s heart into merriment” (Pyle 200).

One of Robin’s greatest joys in life is making the people in his life who support him happy, and the most memorable example of this selflessness is his binding of two true lovers, Allan-a-Dale and Ellen o’ the Dale, as he portrays his usual trickster archetype for both positive and constructive purposes. The band of Merry Men unite to help Allan win his bride; disguised as a band of minstrels, they trick old Sir Stephen and Ellen’s father, along with the rest of the wedding party comprised of old aristocrats, into letting Ellen marry a man who she truly loves, and not to fulfill some arranged marriage promise. When Allan is blamed for the chaos at the wedding, Robin reveals himself so that his friend will not be blamed, and Robin boldly states that the wedding will go on, with or without her father’s blessing.

Robin’s one last trick concerns the wedding dowry and presents, an act that causes the wedding party to remember him forever after as a scoundrel. Taking the Bishop’s golden chain,

Robin places it on Ellen’s shoulders as a wedding gift, then parts with these words: “I thank thee, on the bride’s part, for thy handsome gift, and truly thou thyself art more seemly without it”

39 (Pyle 153). His philosophy is to rob from the rich and give to the poor, and Robin never breaks this code. We value his consistency and adherence to his beliefs.

In Disney’s version, Robin and Little John are disguised as gypsy women fortunetellers, at one point, in order to more easily rob Prince John’s coach and train. Not only is the scene memorably amusing, as the two male characters have really gotten into the “drag queen” spirit

(Little John has paid the utmost attention to his costume, even down to his enormous “breasts”, in which he cleverly stores sacks of gold), but there is even a slight homoerotic vibe as Little

John flirts with a few of the guards, unabashedly putting his “goods” on display. Robin’s other main disguise choice in the film is at Nottinghamshire’s archery tournament, at which he appears bundled up and dressed as a lanky “fiddle-legged stork from Devonshire” (Robin Hood 1973), in hopes of surreptitiously winning the tournament and, at the same time, catching a glimpse of the lovely Maid Marian. Little John is keeping an eye out for him, as the foppish aristocrat, Sir

Reginald, Duke of Chutney, always flattering the Prince and thereby distracting the vapid creature. Interestingly enough, Little John often mentions “scenes” or “performances,” implying that Robin and Little John are very conscious in their decisions to transform characters and act in disguise; that their lives as bandits and outlaws, whatever one chooses to call them, are merely a performance, a persona that they will play the role of eternally in the imaginations of audiences everywhere.

The Trickster Archetype

As Lewis Hyde quotes cultural anthropologist and folklorist Paul Radin in his book

Trickster Makes This World, “Every generation occupies itself with interpreting Trickster anew”

(Hyde). Just as the tradition of Robin Hood and his adventures has evolved over the years,

40 writers’ visions of the trickster archetype likewise have evolved. Nevertheless, certain elements hold true over the years – Robin is both a boundary crosser and creator, and his appetite for justice and righteousness drives his wanderlust.

As Pyle frequently reminds us in his Merry Adventures, “For when Robin Hood caught a baron or a squire, or a fat abbot or bishop, he brought them to the greenwood tree and feasted them before he lightened their purses” (Pyle 47). Robin is a thief, but a trickster at heart, with the best of intentions and the welfare of society as one of his responsibilities. Tricksters, Hyde writes, are boundary crossers:

“Where someone’s sense of honorable behavior has left him unable to act, trickster will

appear to suggest an amoral action, something right/wrong that will get life going again.

Trickster is the mythic embodiment of ambiguity and ambivalence, doubleness and

duplicity, contradiction and paradox (Hyde 7).

Robin is also a boundary creator – he calls the shots in Nottinghamshire, and the fearful Sheriff and his men are completely helpless in containing the Merry Men, either within the forest or outside of it its borders.

Hyde extemporizes that tricksters like Robin are motivated by their own appetites – in

Robin’s case, he hungers for justice and peace to return to his homeland. Even though trickster stories may be contemporized or possess more elaborate cultural meanings, they preserve traditional literary imageries from the days when what mattered above all else was hunting; not only is Robin a world-class bowman who tracks the King’s deer to survive, but he constantly targets one ultimate form of prey – injustice in his beloved England.

41 As author Ralph Ellison is quoted, “Archetypes, like taxes…seem doomed to be with us always, and so with literature, one hopes; but between the two there must needs be the living human being in a specific texture of time, place and circumstance…Archetypes are timeless, novels are time-haunted” (Hyde 14). Robin plays both the hero and the fool, the clever predator and stupid prey of his many adventures and misadventures. As novelist George W.S. Trow is quoted: “trickster is always wandering, on the road – he has the ‘context of no context’” (Hyde).

Along these many paths, trickster Robin often does not think before involving himself in certain quagmires; “If trickster is initially ridden by his appetites, and if such compulsion leads him into traps, then we might read intentional sacrifice as an attempt to alter appetite – to eat without the compulsion or its consequences” (Hyde 38).

Robin is, no doubt, an opportunist, constantly searching for opportunities to get his way or accomplish his goals; “One mark of trickster’s mind, then, is that it exploits and frustrates opportunity” (Hyde 49). As Hyde notices, the trickster takes advantage of seizing and blocking opportunity, confusing polarity, and disguising his own tracks. While Robin plans a lot, however, the trickster develops an intelligence about contingency, the wit to work with happenstance (Hyde 96), and they must become “masters of reversal” (Hyde 118).

Tricksters and Sacrifice

Although tricksters prove to be nuisances to those whom they choose to pester, the trickster is capable of generous actions of self-sacrifice. Ironically, the trickster is classified as shameless: “They’re all the same, these tricksters; they have no shame and so they have no silence” (Hyde 154). Robin disguises himself to win tournaments brazenly; he practically laughs in the face of his enemies. As in the case of Greek mythology, Hermes’ mother calls lying with a

42 straight face “the cloak of shamelessness” (Hyde 154). Notwithstanding, we do not see Robin’s trickster mannerisms in a negative light because the outcomes of his actions generally are positive and constructive. While Robin sets his own operating parameters for his life, “[a]t first,

[he] create[s] separation, setting others at odds and placing boundary markers in new and unusual places, but then [he] may annoy the domestic figures through mischief once they are settled in”. Hyde provides us with a few alternate storylines for the trickster archetype: he may be eventually domesticated and taught to live by the rules of those in charge, or he will eventually be exiled, destroyed, or bound so that his mischief may not survive. Hyde furthermore proposes the interesting suggestion that tricksters might help someone see into the heart of things, and that they therefore have a touch of the prophet about them (Pyle 283). Robin may live in exile for most of his life, but he has not been destroyed and his legacy lives on.

Furthermore, his message of justice and right lives on and when we think of “Robin Hood,” his name and his cause célèbre naturally are connected.

Trickster and Gender

As Hyde points out in his work, all of the standard tricksters are male (Hyde 335) and

Robin Hood, as the poster child for goodhearted bandits and light-footed thieves, certainly is no exception to this general rule. While the tradition of Robin Hood has evolved over many years, and female characters have been granted more of a role, Hyde explains that we often connote

“trickster” with a male because of our connection to patriarchal mythologies, and our experience with such societies (e.g., Loki [from the Jim Carrey film, The Mask], and Batman’s enemies, The

Joker, and The Riddler, etc.). Female tricksters do exist, but they are rare, as they do not conform to the stereotype (e.g. Baubo/Iambe of Greek mythology). Furthermore, this gender difference

43 usually is due to the trickster’s aggressive or opportunistic personality traits, which typically are denoted as male personality qualities.

Chapter 10 – Leave A Legacy: Death and Remembrance

As exemplified by Marian’s faked demise, there is quite a bit of feigned death in the

Robin Hood tradition. Perhaps this is just another illusion of the trickster Robin, but it seems that the stories themselves evade death in order to retain their vitality. While the popularity of the

Robin Hood tales varies from generation to generation and, occasionally, they seem to be “dead” stories, they really are not. This fluctuation of popularity and vibrance can be paralleled with

Robin’s many games involving death that occur during the course of his adventures.

Redemption

Before Robin ultimately dies, he is redeemed by the grace of good King Richard, when the monarch, in disguise, visits Sherwood Forest, curious about the rogue hero he has only heard about through his incompetent brother, Prince John. As the King walks into the forest, Pyle has only the utmost reverence for his character: “His hair and beard were like threads of gold, and his eyes were as blue as the summer sky” (Pyle 271). The King and his men are disguised as friars to enter into the forest, in anticipation of encountering a dangerous and hostile robber that the

Prince and the Sheriff have so highly criticized; “No sooner had the King so spoken, than out from the covert at the roadside stepped a tall fellow with yellow beard and hair and a pair of merry blue eyes” (Pyle 274).

As the King talks to the unassuming Robin and his men, the Merry Men’s loyalty to King

Richard and his cause is often re-asserted and proclaimed, “But as for King Richard, I tell thee, good brother, there is not a man of us all but would pour out our blood like water for him” (Pyle

44 276). When the King does reveal himself, Robin grows worried, but not for long, because he and the Merry Men have only spoken well of the Crown. Although Sir Henry of the Lea (Sir Richard, the “melancholy” Knight’s son) immediately speaks defensively on Robin Hood’s behalf, King

Richard pardons him anyway, finally understanding how much of a positive impact Robin has had upon all of England.

Unfortunately, Robin Hood and his band’s redemption also results in the dissolution of their band and the metaphorical death of the entire culture of the Merry Men. The King is greatly impressed by Robin’s skill, and “[w]ould give a thousand pounds for this fellow to be one of my guard!” (Pyle 278); King Richard assumes that because he is now back in England, all of the land’s problems have come to an end. King Richard splits up the Merry Men, so that they can no longer roam Sherwood Forest and do as they please (even though they successfully protected the land in his stead); while the monarch has the best of intentions, the disintegration of the Merry

Men most likely leads to Robin’s death at such a young age, before he can accomplish many more victories, and his many adventures have unfortunately been cut short. As the King graciously imparts to the family of exiles, “Thy danger is past, for hereby I give thee and all thy band free pardon” (Pyle 283).

Robin has always been a favorite of the King, and whether he is living in exile in

Sherwood Forest or finally redeemed when the King returns from the Crusades, he always remains the hero. This vexes and perplexes the Sheriff of Nottingham, since he has done nothing but try to hunt down Robin for the many years that Prince John has ruled the land, and “As for the Sheriff, he knew not what to say nor where to look when he saw Robin Hood in such high favor with the King, whilst all his heart was filled with gall because of the vexation that lay upon him” (Pyle 285). Not only is Robin redeemed, but he is also rewarded; Robin is dubbed Earl of

45 Huntingdon in Pyle’s story, and he faithfully follows the King to the wars as his obedient servant

(Pyle 286).

Nevertheless, Pyle’s story, unlike the general conception of the Robin Hood tradition, or the many film and children’s versions of the tales, comes to an unfortunate end that many readers overlook or easily forget, because we do not want to believe that our beloved hero is, after all, a mortal man. Perhaps this is why the character of Robin Hood dies young and quickly; we do not even have to consider him as an older character, sickly or on his deathbed, after being such a strong, brawny archer during his lifetime. As Pyle acknowledges, Robin stays true to his character up until his very last breath, regardless of his new socioeconomic title or his recent knighthood, depending on the version one is studying. Pyle writes of, “[H]ow that stout fellow,

Robin Hood, died as he had lived, not at court as Earl of Huntingdon, but with bow in hand, his heart in the greenwood, and he himself a right yeoman” (Pyle 289).

Everything seems to come to an end in Pyle’s tale; King Richard dies upon the battlefield, to be replaced by the ne’er do well King John. With his true King dead and his

Lady’s whereabouts mysteriously unknown, Robin Hood ends his story where it began – by the side of his closest comrade and confidant, Little John. After the Merry Men’s dissolution, Robin

Hood begins to feel a calling, a “yearning” (Pyle 290), for the Sherwood Forest and his band of

Merry Men, and so he deserts his position with the Crown and heads back into the woods, regathering his Merry Men by robustly blowing his infamous silver bugle, which attracts Little

John and the rest of the men, returning to the side of their leader, “[a]s leaps the stag when it feels the arrow at its heart, so leaped Little John when that distant sound met his ear” (Pyle 291).

Robin finally understands that in the greenwood is where he belongs, eternally – so must he die young and live on in the hearts of those who tell and read his stories. Robin is emotionally

46 moved when he sets foot again on his home soil, for the city is not for a rugged hero such as he:

“After a while Robin looked around him with tear-dimmed eyes, and said, in a husky voice,

‘Now, I swear that never again will I leave these dear woodlands. I have been away from them and from [you Merry Men] too long. Now do I lay by the name of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, and take upon me once again that nobler title, Robin Hood, the Yeoman’” (Pyle 291).

Inasmuch as the King of Robin’s prime lifetime, Richard, has been killed in battle and replaced, Robin once more has issues with authority, and upon hearing that the Merry Men have been pieced together again, King John is furious, “[swearing] both loud and deep, and took a solemn vow that he would not rest until he had Robin Hood in his power, dead or alive” (Pyle

291). Such is Robin’s life, living with a death warrant lodged upon his forehead, forever a beloved outcast, and usually a survivor, often dodging his enemies’ schemes and evading capture and trouble.

This is where a shift in the story occurs: Pyle reminds us that, unlike the Robin of past years who killed one man out of self-defense, this Robin has served as a royal archer, and has no qualms about killing a man, let alone a Sheriff, or a King; “Now, had Robin Hood been as peaceful as of old, everything might have ended in smoke, as other such ventures had always done before; but he had fought for years under King Richard and was changed from what he used to be. It galled his pride to thus flee away before those sent against him, like a chased fox flees from the hounds…” (Pyle 292). This is perhaps where Disney contrived his image of Robin as a fox, both clever and lithe, yet always on the run.

And, so, the battle began; “The first man slain in that fight was the Sheriff of

Nottingham,” who had earlier escaped his meddling with the Merry Men with a mere wound in

47 the posterior. Now, everything has literally come back to bite him in the rear, and the Sheriff of

Nottingham falls, finally, wounded with an arrow in his brain (Pyle 292). The knight, Sir

William of Dale, who King John sent after Robin to exterminate him and his men, retreats wounded and is neither a victim, nor a victor. This final battle is truly a dark point in the book; whereas many of the battles end on a positive note, devoid of much bloodshed or death, no clear victor emerges from the fight, and it seems to have all been in vain, while wounding many of our beloved characters.

Still, as Dr. John Cech points out, “Robin wins, but he loses. This murder [of Guy] ‘lay heavily on his mind, so that he brooded over it until a fever seized upon him’” (Cech 13). Robin has beat the King’s men and his archenemy, Guy of Gisbourne, but Robin has nonetheless been wounded. Little John, his ever-faithful friend and protector, brings him to his cousin’s nunnery at

Kirklees, whom he has assisted in becoming Prioress there; yet, she has been ungrateful and plotted against him in a cruel attempt to preserve her own reputation. Once Robin decided to leave the King’s service and once more pursue his role as leader of the Merry Men, the Prioress felt that her reputation had been tarnished and jeopardized, as she was now the cousin of an outlaw. Although Robin has visited her for medical reasons, the Prioress cold-heartedly bleeds him out completely, forcing Little John to leave, so that she can finalize her dirty deed. As Robin lays dying, he blew the silver horn that oft-called his Merry Men to his side in times of victory, that had encouraged them to come back to the forest when he returned to Sherwood and, as he lay on his deathbed, he blew his horn; finally, Little John hears it and rushes to the scene in a vain attempt at rescue.

Even when gasping for his terminal breath, and bleeding his last few drops of plasma onto his deathbed, Robin remains the merciful hero has always been. Little John swears that he

48 will take vengeance to redeem Robin Hood’s subtly-plotted murder, but “Robin Hood took Little

John’s rough, brown fist in his white hands, and chid him softly, in his low, weak voice, asking him since what time Little John had thought of doing harm to women, even in vengeance” (Pyle

294), making Little John promise not to avenge him.

Robin’s final moments in his life are both moving and emotional, something we do not expect from a carefree, man-boy who has spent much of his time frolicking about the forest, feasting upon the King’s fresh venison, and confiscating the riches of the greedy noblemen and clergymen who travel through Sherwood. As the sun dramatically sets, “Robin Hood, in a weak, faltering voice, bade Little John raise him, that he might look out once more upon the woodlands” (Pyle 294), his one true home, and the setting in which his heart, soul, and mind, live on eternally. With Little John’s help, Robin raises his good bow, notching his arrow, and divulging, “Little John, mine own dear friend, and him I love better than all the others in the world, mark, I prythee, where this arrow lodges, and there let me grave be digged. Lay me with my face toward the east, Little John, and see that my resting-place be kept green, and that my weary bones be not disturbed” (Pyle 295).

Shooting his final arrow, Robin’s body collapses into itself, “As the shaft flew, his hand sank slowly with the bow till it lay across his knees, and his body likewise sank back again into

Little John’s loving arms; but something had sped from that body, even as the winged arrow sped from the bow” (Pyle 295). While Little John has sworn to Robin not to harm the Prioress or her sisters, he threatens them to leave, and asserts that he will bear Robin’s body from that place, bringing back six Merry Men to help bear their leader, friend, and mentor’s body. Robin’s final impact on those who loved him finally is witnessed; as there is no funeral, this final mourning crying is his eulogy: “[A] great, loud sound of wailing arose from the glade that lay all dark in

49 the dawning, as though many men, hidden in the shadows, had lifted up their voices in sorrow”

(Pyle 295).

Remembrance

Pyle grievously writes, “Thus died Robin Hood, at Kirklees Nunnery, in fair Yorkshire, with mercy in his heart toward those that had been his undoing; for thus he showed mercy for the erring and pity for the weak through all the time of his living” (Pyle 296). Although the treacherous Prioress of Kirklees is responsible for Robin’s death, we cannot help but feel that she is not entirely to blame for Robin’s demise and destruction. As Dr. John Cech notes, “One leaves

Pyle’s version with the feeling that Robin, rather than the Prioress, is the actual agent of his own undoing” (Cech 13). Like the first murder he was forced to commit, which was the reason that he was exiled by the crown and forced to live as an outlaw in Sherwood Forest, Robin is very susceptible to guilt and remorse, and the deaths he has caused because of the bloodshed instigated by his enemies has taken an enormous mental, emotional, spiritual and, thereby, physical toll upon him and his personality and character. After Robin passes away, his Merry

Men are scattered and dispersed across the land, but there is at least a positive aspect to the end of the story; there is a more sympathetic sheriff that has replaced one of Robin’s greatest enemies and, so, the Merry Men are held in a bit higher esteem, no longer living and hiding as outlaws in the forest.

And yet, despite Robin’s literary death, he continued to live on in the imaginations of children, and even in the hearts and minds of their elders, as his tales were passed down from generation to generation. Pyle’s story ends with the inscription upon Robin’s tombstone, “Hear undernead tis laitl steam / lais robert earl of huntingdon” (Pyle 296), yet we question how

50 accurate this inscription is. After all, despite the many titles that Robert Locksley, Earl of

Huntingdon, or Sir Robert, goes by, there is indisputably one title and role that this famous individual holds closest and dearest to his heart: Robin Hood, leader of the Merry Men in

Sherwood Forest – patriotic countryman, beloved friend and leader, and inspirational archer and game adventurer, across the land and across the imagination.

Chapter 11 – Robin the Role Model

As mentioned in Stephen Knight’s Robin Hood: A Mythic Biography, the author of The

Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, Howard Pyle, grew up in an American family in Delaware, although of English descent. Critics condemned his allegedly “inaccurate” portrayal of England and English culture. However, to me it seems that Pyle’s choices in character traits, setting, and plot events were very deliberate, as he recreated the Sherwood Forest of old for American boys specifically and intentionally, not just an international audience, and his imaginative universe was a clever blend of both the English and American countryside terrains. Most of the tall, athletic young men depicted in his illustrations and who served as inspiration for his writing, were his students, as well as his models, lending a genuine feel to his depictions and descriptions of the antics of Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men. Pyle’s primary audience, just like that of Mark Twain, was “A small boy – a truly dangerous animal” (Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves); although we have all come to love Robin Hood over the years, Pyle intended his book for children, especially younger versions of Robin himself. As Robin asks of his downhearted men during the 1938 film, “Where’s your love of fights, risk, adventure?” (The Adventures of Robin

Hood). Little boys love adventure; Pyle’s book clearly is geared towards them.

As Stuart Kane observes in “The Green Man and the Facial Machine” (Potter and

Calhoun 41), childhood is a sort of greenwood, a special, secretive place where the realm of the

51 imagination reigns supreme. For the medieval children, however, the fine line between childhood and adulthood was barely existent, and children were forced to face the cruel realities of poverty, disease, unhappiness, and death very early on, assuming they survived past childhood. Therefore, it is not surprising that “Medieval and early modern children, recent research shows, both read and listened to the same romances as did their elders” (Brockman 3); there was no separation in dialogue because the children were expected to grow up rapidly, so that they would be stronger and more likely to survive the harshness of the medieval world. The greenwood, or the safe haven of childhood, is a “zone delimiting possibility and danger” that allows for “possibility of performance, fragmentation, personification, mobility” (Potter and Calhoun 42) and offers the opportunity to begin life anew with a tabula rasa, just as Robin had to when he was first exiled.

In addition to the fictional figure of the greenwood implemented in these stories, the

American incarnations of Robin Hood – including, but not limited to, Twain’s Tom Sawyer and

Huckleberry “Huck” Finn, from his 1876 The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (even the titles are parallel) – are very realistic, as children during this era recreated Robin Hood games all of the time in the Midwest, and Huck is basically the reincarnation of Robin’s trickster with a “heart of gold” archetype. As explicated in Patricia Yongue’s “The Play’s the Thing: Tom Sawyer Re- enacts Robin Hood” (Potter and Calhoun 174), boys at that time were highly encouraged to use brave and chivalric Robin Hood as a role model as they were being prepared to serve in combat, as they were “groomed (1) for service in the quest for individuality, manly physical perfection –

“select” (Darwin) and “fittest” (Spencer) and (2) for the preeminence of America promised by its

“manifest destiny” (Potter and Calhoun 174). The parallels between Robin and Tom and Huck are numerous; as William Dean Howells wrote in the Atlantic Monthly, boy’s natural savagery was “encouraged” (Potter and Calhoun 175); even the mention of the Merry Men’s treasure

52 house – a cave hewn into the side of a boulder – sounds like one of the boyish antics of Twain’s

Tom and Huck.

Walt Disney’s Robin Hood

For those children who grew up in the latter part of the twentieth century, the advent of

Disney’s animated versions of classic tales truly transformed their outlook upon the plots of fairy tales and other folk stories. Though these versions seem “less important” than others, the choices made in them are completely deliberate, and even studied if one thinks about it. As Stephen D.

Winick writes in his essay on “Reynardine and Robin Hood” (Potter and Calhoun 51), the standard character of the highway robber in the outlaw ballad highly influenced Disney’s perspective; not only is Reynardine the highwayman extremely sneaky and cleverly manipulative, to the point where the common people consider him a hero with supernatural powers, but he is a fox! Perhaps this is where the alias “Reynold (Greenleaf),” Little John’s cover-up in many of the stories, was derived from.

Disney’s film begins with a “book” sequence, perhaps reminding children that the Robin

Hood tales are just as important as a part of literature as they are of oral tradition. Our introduction to the titular character is that, “Robin Hood was the people’s only hope” (Robin

Hood 1973), immediately emphasizing that Robin is a larger-than-life hero, even though he is a mere mortal. The story cuts to an opening song, “Oo-De-Lally,” which is reprised several times throughout the film like a ballad (or a drinking song), and Robin and Little John already are the best of friends at this point. Disney’s choice of anthropomorphic “cute but cuddly” characters is flawless, but goes over many of the youngsters’ heads who have not previously read of Robin and his adventures: Allan-a-Dale, our Narrator and main minstrel, is a folk-singer rooster; the

53 slimy advisor, Sir Hiss, is a serpent; cowardly Prince John is, ironically, a Lion; Little John is a friendly bear; the vile Sheriff is a big, bad wolf; and Robin and Marian are a fox and vixen, respectively. The Prince’s men all are violent creatures, i.e., crocodiles, rhinos, elephants, hippos, and vultures, making it very clear to children which side they should root for.

The movie includes several light-hearted escapes from the Sheriff and his men, and the usual warning to Robin that he takes too many chances, and that one day his mischief-making will truly get him into trouble. Robin is bold and reckless, but also sophisticated, with his suave

British accent and dashing mannerisms. Despite the change in medium, however, the vital questions at the core of the Robin Hood tradition remain: as Little John asks Robin, “Are we good guys or bad guys?”(Robin Hood 1973). Robin’s response, in every book and film, is simple, but consistent and honest: “We just sort of borrow a bit.” And, as always, the Disney villains stay true to their titles, as the conniving Prince John laughs about the newly imposed taxes with his counselor, Sir Hiss, exclaiming, “This crown gives me a feeling of power!”

Portrayal of Romance

Whereas the romance of Marian and Robin varies from story to story, Disney consistently presents the two characters as a single unit, a star-crossed couple who finally is reunited at the end of the story for their “happily-ever-after” moment. We first encounter Maid Marian and her handmaid, Lady Kluck, the Chicken, playing badminton in the castle courtyard, where Marian reminisces about her relationship with her outlaw love, as demonstrated by the tree with their initials carved into it with a heart. She also has a Robin “Reward” poster hidden secretly in her wardrobe, but she fears that he has forgotten her. Likewise, Disney’s Robin often pines over

Marian, giving children the impression that everything will eventually work out between them, because the story is a “fairy tale.” When Robin hears that the prize of the archery contest is a kiss

54 from Marian, he goes all cartoon crazy, and Marian ends up often serving as his motivation for all that he does (he is a highly-dependent character): “Remember, faint hearts never won fair ladies. Fear not, my friends, this will be my greatest performance!” (Robin Hood 1973).

As Lady Kluck jokes to Maid Marian, “Your uncle king Richard will have an outlaw for an in-law!” Not only is this foreshadowing in every version of Robin Hood, but it is also amusing, since the most wanted man (or fox) in the land eventually becomes a highly-regarded nobleman. When Robin is caught and sentenced to death at the Prince’s tournament, which was a trap, it is Marian who spares his life with her pleading. Here, Robin proclaims his everlasting love for her, sealing the Disney couple’s status: “Marian, my darling, I love you more than life itself!” and giving us background for the Disney ballad, “Love” that occurs on a romantic moonlit stroll through the forest, complete with fireflies, lilies, and perfect English weather.

Robin is a fox, and Marian is a vixen…does their being the same animal signify that Robin and

Marian are separate halves of a whole? Interestingly enough, Pyle only mentions Maid Marian once in passing, but Walt Disney Studios seems to have become enamored with the thought of

Robin as a devoted paramour, as well as a rugged hero.

The Carnivalesque

Disney’s version is highly carnivalesque, almost gaudy in its representation of the medieval ages. During the battle scenes, to calm children, perhaps, carnival music is played when the soldiers set off after Maid Marian and Lady Kluck, as the chicken in a gown humorously fights a horde of rhinos and hippos off like football players, proclaiming shamelessly, “Long live King Richard!” Among these comical scenes throughout the film, we remember Prince John growing angry with a very drunk Sir Hiss, upon whom all of the kingdom’s problems are blamed by the incompetent Prince, as well as the Disney song “The

55 Phony King of England”, which both emasculates and humiliates Prince John and his regime.

After Robin and Marian’s betrothal, the forest creatures engage in a rustic romp, complete with minstrels, dancing, feasting, and a puppet show, a scene straight out of a children’s eye-view of the Middle Ages.

Somber Mood and Disney Villains

Although Disney’s version undoubtedly contains numerous light-hearted moments, we cannot help but notice the somber, darker tones in the backstory of even a beloved children’s film. While there is a formidable army on the Prince and Sheriff’s side, there is a serious deficiency in Robin’s forces – the lack of Merry Men (which are mainly limited to Little John,

Allan-a-Dale, and Friar Tuck) is almost appalling. When the Prince’s taxes are imposed and his regime is imposed upon England, his threats bring a quite obvious scenery change – the sunny scenes in the peaceful forest transform into rainy and cold English bleak days and nights, as the

Crown “Taxed the heart and soul out of the poor people of Nottingham.” When the scene shifts to Allan-a-Dale singing a ballad in a jail cell, whose lyrics contain, “Sometimes ups outnumber the downs, but not in Nottingham,” which is an especially poignant minstrel song in a jail cell with the sick, the old, the young, the poor, and virtually everyone else in Nottinghamshire, we are disheartened and expect Robin to do something immediately to the best of his ability to remedy the situation.

From a sad little string of starving, drenched, and cold mice and baby raccoons, to the mourning tolling of bells in the church, rung by Friar Tuck, and the organ being played by

Sexton Churchmouse, we are reminded why Robin Hood exists – to provide hope and support for those in need. When Mrs. Churchmouse’s last farthing is stolen from the alms box by the greedy Sheriff, and Friar Tuck commences a fight with him, we finally see a glimpse of the

56 darkness of the real Robin Hood tales; this is more like the Friar Tuck of the stories, he is feisty and willing to fight for what he believes in, literally. While Nottinghamshire suffers through the rainy song, the juxtaposition of Prince John and Sir Hiss huddled in by the fire with a pile of money serves as stark contrast to those miserable souls in squalor, as counting money makes the prince “so happy,” but he is still not satisfied, and he is bent on revenge (“I would give all my gold, if I could just get my hands on… [Robin Hood]”).

The story takes an even darker turn as the guard vultures prepare the noose for the captured Robin, reminiscent of the gravedigger clown scene in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. While the scene lightens up as Robin dons a disguise as Nutsy the incompetent vulture guard, who sings a lullaby to put the Sheriff to sleep so that Robin and Little John may free the people in the jail, the tone remains dark and foreboding. Children are reminded of the moral lesson of the tales of

Robin Hood as he is almost captured at the end of this escapade; greedily taking one too many sacks of gold from the prince’s treasury, John is then awakened and a fight begins.

After the general chaos of the fight, the mood lightens a bit as Robin moves out of his dark phase and regains the character traits that make him so admirable. As the Baby Bunny gets left behind, Robin reverts to self-sacrifice and returns to set the baby free, even though it gets in the way of his own escape. When the Sheriff gleefully exclaims, “this time we got him for sure!”, which is followed by the frightening image of him with a torch setting fire to the castle, which, in turn, is consumed in flames, we are relieved when this is revealed to be an ironic slip- up by the Sheriff, as usual. As in Pyle’s tales, Robin must fake a final death; in this film, Robin jumps and lands in the moat, air bubbles disappear, and his hat shows up with an arrow in it.

With the sun setting in the bloody orange and red skies, the Prince (and all who love Robin,

57 especially Little John) assume he is dead, and there is an immense weight placed on the audience’s shoulders.

However, as is the case with all Disney films, there must be a rewarding resolution, a finale with a “happily ever after.” Robin saves himself by using a reed to breathe underwater and, eventually, we are shown a future, bright shot of flowery Nottingham, which greatly contrasts to the first scene of a sad, rainy day. Robin is pardoned and wedded to Marian with the blessing of King Richard, and the villains have been sentenced to work as slaves in the Royal

Rock quarry. However, not “all’s well that ends well.” As Skippy the Bunny innocently conjectures, while the happy couple rides off to their honeymoon, “Robin Hood’s gonna have kids, so someone needs to keep their eyes on things”; but as Lewis Hyde writes in his Trickster

Makes This World, the trickster archetype is drawn to adventure by lust and appetite, yet hardly ever leaves a trace of progeny to carry on his legacy in this world. The only offspring Robin can offer to us is his brainchild, his story, and that legacy has been immortalized in generations of literature descended from the original.

Dark Reality of Robin Hood Tales

As demonstrated by the deleted scene of the Disney film, not every story has such a happy ending, which is perhaps a more realistic rendition of the tales and more true to the original versions, but too traumatizing for children to deal with. After Robin Hood is wounded and rescued by Little John, as Prince John’s men follow in hot pursuit, they hurriedly rush to a church to let Robin lie down and rest, while, during the thunderstorm, Prince John, in an ominous hooded cloak, along with his henchman, Sir Hiss, follow them into the church. As Little

John leaves to seek help, just as in Pyle’s version, the cowardly Prince confronts Robin on his deathbed after others leave the scene, when he cannot retaliate. Prince John confronts Marian and

58 the dying Robin, “Shouldn’t we put him out of his misery? A quick thrust of the sword?”; but they stand up to him not being the real King and not worthy of the Crown, disclaiming his right to the royal title and throne.

Just as in the original ending, King Richard shows up to save the day, and Prince John figuratively chickens out. While the rightful King Richard, the Lion-Hearted (literally), chides

Sir Hiss and his younger brother, demands the crown be returned, and reassures Marian about

Robin, stating that “England owes him [Robin Hood] a great debt,” we once again breathe a collective sigh of relief and realize that a happily-ever-after is, indeed, attainable. Sir Robert of

Locksley and Sir John, Duke of Essex, are royally knighted and, once more, the wedding scene is reenacted, ending with the carriage riding off into the sunset, reassuring the children in the audience that no matter how bleak things seem, happiness and justice still are possible.

Robin Hood and The Hunger Games

As the villainous Prince John ponders in the Disney film after his train has just been robbed by Robin Hood and Little John hilariously dressed in drag, “Female bandits? What next?” (Robin Hood 1973). While at the time of the original 16th and 17th-century Robin Hood ballads, a female protagonist in these stories would have been unheard of, and even in Pyle’s time, it would have been rare, one of the most valuable things about the Robin Hood tradition is its flexibility, adaptability, and ability to evolve over the times, depending on contemporary norms and social issues of the time. As Bennett Brockman notes, since the original texts, “Robin

Hood evolves during the course of the next three centuries from yeoman to earl and back again to yeoman” (Brockman 7-8). Not only does this constant evolution occur according to Robin’s age, background, or character portrayal but, in certain modernizations, in hopes of gaining a broader audience, his gender has even been transmuted, in hopes that newer generations can still

59 appreciate the old beloved tales. A prime example of the contemporization of the Robin Hood stories in Children’s Literature is Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games trilogy, a post- apocalyptic version of a teenage rebel, wherein sixteen-year-old Katniss Everdeen, competes to save her own life and those of the ones she loves.

Katniss has been thrust into a government-run competition to the death, where out of twenty-four young, arbitrarily selected contestants, only one may lead the Capitol’s Arena alive, as victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. We immediately think of Robin Hood when we learn of Katniss’ background in her homeland of District 12 in Panem, the dissolved version of the

United States of America; resourceful, innovative, and hardworking, she has found sneaky ways of providing for her impoverished family. Now that she has been drafted into the deadly Hunger

Games, an outlaw from the “normal” population of District inhabitants, we nevertheless know that, like Robin, she will find some way to evade being caught or killed by the other contestants, or “Tributes,” and she, ultimately, will succeed.

As Collins introduces us to this post-apocalyptic world, we are reminded of Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham’s unfair rule over England; disregarding the plight of the already suffering people, the leaders in the Capitol of Panem, especially President Snow, continue to tax the people and let them freeze and starve. Even more disturbing than the Prince’s monetary tax, the leaders of Katniss’ world enacts a huge involuntary sacrifice from its people: “Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch – this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion” (Collins 18). However, like Robin, Katniss will not stand for this.

The goal of her adventures while she pursues victory in the arena always is seeking justice, and she never placed herself first above others.

60 Like Robin, Katniss is self-sacrificing. Although her parents are essentially out of the picture, Katniss enters the Hunger Games motivated to win so that she can go home and take care of her beloved little sister, Primrose. In fact, when the Reaping, or choosing of the Tributes, occurs, Primrose’s name is the first to be picked, but Katniss immediately and instinctively sacrifices herself, despite her youth: “‘I volunteer!’ [Katniss] gasp[s]. ‘I volunteer as tribute!’”

(Collins 22), rather than bear to see her younger sister brutally killed before her very eyes on national television. Katniss continues to act selflessly throughout the book; first, embarking on the adventures for Prim, subsequently, fighting during the Games to save her partner, Peeta

Mellark, and, ultimately, winning the games in honor of a young Tribute ally, Rue, who was savagely murdered during the Games. While Collins has titled her work “The Hunger Games,” these children’s books are so dark that the term “game” is used in a highly ironic fashion. Unlike the bright, merry world of Robin Hood, where everything is literally a song and dance, or a game, Katniss is a modern bandit with a heart of gold who must fight to the death in the Arena, if she wants to preserve both her beliefs and her very life.

Even though she is not the spitting image of Robin Hood, her gender especially taken into consideration, we cannot help but notice some of the similarities between Robin and Katniss’ attitudes towards death and fighting. Both are hunters and archers, but both despise needless bloodshed (only in an emergency or self-defense is it condoned), and both feel the utmost guilt after they have been forced to kill someone. Both are extremely merciful characters, giving their enemies many chances to flee before they must be finally caught and killed, if the story merits it.

When Katniss is first chosen for the games, her friend Gale attempts to be supportive by reminding her that she has successfully killed many creatures, but Katniss is, nevertheless, nervous: “Numerous animals have lost their lives at my hands, but only one human. I hear Gale

61 saying, ‘How different can it be, really?’” (Collins 243). When she thinks about it, she is disturbed to realize how simple it will be, yet, like Robin, upon killing a human being, she never truly emotionally or mentally recovers, fleeing into a parallel woods to recollect her thoughts and attempt to find herself:

“Amazing similar in the execution. A bow pulled, an arrow shot. Entirely different in the

aftermath. I killed a boy whose name I don’t even know. Somewhere his family is

weeping for him. His friends call for my blood. Maybe he had a girlfriend who really

believed he would come back…” (Collins 243).

Just like in the Robin Hood stories, Katniss and her comrades in Suzanne Collins’

Hunger Games trilogy also utilize disguises or costumes to mask what is really going on. At the opening parade ceremonies of the Hunger Games, Tributes are required to wear costumes that represent their certain districts; therefore, Katniss and Peeta are clothed in traditional District 12 garb, which is reminiscent of coal mining, and so they look as if they are on fire. However, this parade of Tributes and their costumes is more of a solemn death march, and the disguises are meant to dehumanize the children before they are sent to their deaths in the Hunger Games

Arena. By masking the children’s expressions of grief and terror on national television, the public forgets that these are children being sent as sacrifices to be murdered in an arena under the guise of what are called, “Games.”

However, what ties Robin and Katniss together is that both of these characters fight this dehumanization of the common people. Robin Hood’s society oppresses him; it oppresses him and the outlaw band that he lives with, the Merry Men, and it oppresses what he believes in – justice, equality, and fairness, in a society where the Crown owns the lion’s share, the aristocrats

62 own much, and the poor or the general public own almost nothing. Similarly, in Katniss’ post- apocalyptic modern world, District 12 represents the dregs of society; they own virtually nothing as compared to the first few districts, which gain their wealth through gem-mining, fishing, or harvesting major food products. Despite the foregoing, just like Robin, Katniss looks beyond societal status or nobility, ranking, or title and looks at every single character as a living and breathing individual who has value. This is why, unlike all of the other Tributes, Katniss is able to make a friend and comrade at the Hunger Games, Rue, a young Tribute from District 11, and she even has somewhat of an alliance with Thresh, who is a voluntary protector of her after she has defied the Games’ rules and buried Rue, lending a humanization to the girl’s death. When

Katniss is speaking at the ending ceremonies of the Hunger Games, after her and Peeta have been deemed “victorious” (how ironic), she notices that the people of District 11 hold their hands in a certain gesture that “means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love” (Collins 24). Before there were any competition and barriers between the districts, Katniss, like Robin, has convinced different sorts of people to get together and cooperate for a cause (i.e., the Merry Men and Friar Tuck helping Allan-a-Dale marry a reluctant nobleman’s daughter, and the King is on very close terms with Robin, though he is not necessarily a nobleman). Robin is able to look beyond such trivial things as labels, and so is Katniss.

As to both characters, there is an archery typology. Archery serves as a hunting apparatus, a mode of survival, a way of living, and a skill or hobby for these characters. Robin, whether his profession is an archer for the king’s guard or if he is simply an outlaw who enjoys illegally shooting – and winning – at tournaments, is always portrayed as an archer, clad in green from head to toe. Katniss, although she is a young girl, also is a skilled archer. Inasmuch as her family is starving, she has been forced to poach with Gale, in the outskirts of District 12, called

63 “The Seam,” and she has learned many survival lessons there. Her archery skills also come in very handy at the Hunger Games Evaluations, where her boldness and bravery, conjuring up images of Robin, appear. When the Capitol Judge Committee does not pay the slightest attention to her abilities or her attempts to impress them, Katniss grows impulsive – another Robin-like trait – and “Without thinking, I pull an arrow from my quiver and send it straight at the

Gamemakers’ table. I hear shouts of alarm as people stumble back. The arrow skewers the apple in the pig’s mouth and pins it to the wall behind it” (Collins 182). Although she ultimately is rewarded for her gutsy performance, gaining favorable reviews from her judges, it is very clear that like Robin, she is impulsive, but with good intentions, and definitely a member of the trickster archetype.

Unlike the “merry” attitude of the Robin Hood tales, there is a pessimistic overcast and violent mood going on in the Hunger Games trilogy. However, even children’s literature must adapt to the times and, because of the modern world and our fears, hopes, and aspirations, we are forced to consider such post-apocalyptic worlds such as the one Katniss and her family inhabit.

Contemporizing a literary tradition like the Robin Hood tales means that the literature must change with the times. We have become more obsessed with the apocalypse, and more and more preoccupied and fascinated with death, so our tradition of Robin Hood prototypes must change as well.

When Katniss enters the Hunger Games Arena, even her outfit resembles Robin Hood.

She is clad in “simple tawny pants, light green blouse, sturdy brown belt, and thin, hooded black jacket that falls to my thighs” (Collins 145). We are not sure if Cinna, her designer, is responsible for this wardrobe choice, or if it is simply a choice of the Gamemakers, but there is

64 little or no doubt that Katniss and her knee-high buckskin boots and green outfit, with a bow and sheath of arrows slung over her shoulder, is supposed to resemble Robin Hood.

In more contemporary times, we have seen an increase in violence and dark themes in

Children’s Literature. It is mentioned during the first book that a few years before, a case of cannibalism arose in the Hunger Games, initiated by a District 6 Tribute named Titus. Rather than eating venison illegally, the Hunger Games Tributes were forced to resort to eating their comrades. There is also the mention of the Bloodbath at the Cornucopia, rather than the largely bloodless battles we encounter in the Robin Hood stories. From the very moment that the

Tributes are able to enter the Arena, the children are engaged in a bloodthirsty orgy of stabbing, hitting, bludgeoning, and knifing each other all over a bunch of supplies at the station. In the

Robin Hood books, we do read of many battles, and there are several deaths, but, other than

Robin’s final death scene, being bled to death by his cousin, the Prioress of Kirklees, there are few gory details about the inherent gruesomeness of any of those events. In the Hunger Games, such symptoms of the post-apocalyptic world such as starvation, dehydration, and death are artificialized, unlike the few emotional deaths in the Robin Hood tradition including, but not limited to, Robin himself. Even the weather is artificialized in the Arena, and there are horrid creatures dubbed “muttations,” genetically-engineered beasts that are sent to kill the Tributes, that are comprised of some of the Tributes’ DNA as well. It may disturb us to discover how twisted of a version of Robin Hood the Hunger Games appears to be, but it is simply a function of the times we live in and, perhaps, a harbinger of things to come. “So they’re fighting in a pack” (Collins 159), Katniss discovers, as the Career Pack hunts her down after her and Rue’s trick with dumping a hive of lethally-venomous Tracker Jackers upon the Careers’ campsite.

This bloodthirsty pack seems to be a latter-day distortion of the Merry Men, but Katniss has her

65 own equivalent of a merry little band of loyal and devoted followers; Peeta, her love interest, is the male equivalent of Maid Marian, whereas Rue, the young Tribute from District 11, is her version of Little John, always by her side.

While love-interest aspects vary from Robin Hood story to ballad to piece of literature,

Collins has chosen to include a romantic subplot in the Hunger Games trilogy. The first book centers around Katniss and Peeta; although their love story is a ploy to survive, at first, when

Katniss discovers that she really does harbor an emotional attachment to Peeta, when he is severely wounded, she says, “And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread” (Collins 297), speaking of Peeta, the baker’s son. This is similar to the versions of Robin Hood in which he refuses to live without Marian and when her death is faked, his world completely collapses. Both the Hunger Games and the Robin Hood stories and films speak to self-sacrifice and devotion to one’s cause. In this post-apocalyptic world, suicide and self-sacrifice are almost synonymous; for example, Peeta and Katniss have to stick to their beliefs and almost eat poisonous berries to prove to the world that the Capitol should not have such control over their lives and the lives of the generations to come. As Katniss disgustedly reiterates, “Everything is about [the Capitol people], not the dying boys and girls in the arena” (Collins 354). This mirrors the Sheriff of Nottingham’s and Prince John’s disregard for the dying, starving, and generally poor people of Nottinghamshire, while they wallow away the time in their piles of gold inside their warm, luxurious castles.

Like Robin Hood, Katniss seeks social justice; she is a post-apocalyptic Robin Hood, trying to gain representation for her people and spread the wealth over the poor and rich districts.

Like Robin, she acknowledges the political danger of her role: the Hunger Games are not just any random event, they are a way of life in her society, and as Katniss explains: “And right now,

66 the most dangerous part of the Hunger Games is about to begin” (Collins 359). She knows that by choosing this way of life, by choosing to defy the capitol and President Snow and, indeed, the entire system of Panem as it stands, she has chosen to live the life of an exile and an outlaw, à la

Robin Hood.

Like Robin, Katniss is a brave and bold spirit; “As soon as I’m in the trees, I retrieve a bow and sheath of arrows from a hollow log…Inside the woods [the flesh eaters] roam freely, and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths to follow.

But there’s also food if you know how to find it” (Collins 5). Katniss remains an optimist, even when the odds are stacked against her, just as Robin does when he embarks on one of his many merry adventures, and realizes that all odds are against him, and may lead to his capture or even death. Katniss has chosen to fight for what she believes in, regardless of what the government says, just like Robin. As she says, “All forms of stealing are forbidden in District 12. Punishable by death. But it crossed my mind that there might be something in the trash bins, and those were fair game”(Collins 29); Katniss is a trickster at heart, too, always looking for a shortcut or a way to get into/or out of something, a way to succeed. She is determined, strong, and persevering.

She also acknowledges that she really despises what is occurring in her society: “But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things fair. It doesn’t fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game” (Collins 14).

She is realistic, and learns, like Robin, that certain things must be done first. She must continue to poach illegally, and she must continue to fight in the Hunger Games, if she wants to eventually put an end to the injustice in her country.

Like Robin and Katniss, the trickster archetype always means well and has the best of intentions. The archetype only fights or kills in self-defense, and truly regrets such an act. As

67 Katniss vents, “It’s not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other” (Collins 71). In the final analysis, however, if she wants to avoid death, she must first conquer this grueling test. Still, Katniss always means well and tries to find a shortcut that will not harm anyone. As she tells Rue, “Today we take out the Careers’ food,” I say” (Collins

210). She uses archery to accomplish this, blowing up the food supply with the Careers’ own landmine traps. The only person hurt in the process was the boy who was supposed to watch the campsite, who was in fact killed by Cato of District 1. There was also the accidental killing of

Foxface, from District 5, by the poisoning berries that Katniss and Peeta left out by their campsite. Katniss feels awful about this, just as she feels awful about her earlier meeting with an

Avox (one punished for “treason” by being mutilated, especially by the removal of the tongue).

Looking back, she remembered that she witnessed the capture of the Avox and her partner, and did not say a thing to help. Even firing at the Muttations, Katniss feels this pang of regret. Her one final act of mercy at the end of the novel is to kill Cato, who is being torn apart by the ravenous Muttations, and she puts him out of his misery. This is tantamount to an act of kindness, under the circumstances, but, even then, Katniss will regret this for the rest of her life and have traumatizing nightmares because of it, just as Robin never forgets or forgives himself for the few lives that he has been compelled to take.

Conclusion

Children’s Literature ironically has a stereotype for having a lack of scholarly legitimacy and reputation, and it has seemed that way for a very long time according to textual history: “The

[Robin Hood] tales were seen as the kind of immoral, fantastical ‘lies’ that only children and uneducated, unenlightened folk would be drawn to or amused by” (Cech 13-14). However, if

Children’s Literature is so “useless,” one may reasonably wonder how these stories have endured

68 for generation after generation, for centuries, in the standing? Such stories as the Robin Hood traditions “have endured as folklore, as ‘reliques’ of the past, and, ironically, as children’s literature – that great ‘subversive’ repository of anti-establishment literature” (Cech 14). The

Robin Hood tradition has transitioned, and evolved, from oral history to ballads and rhymes and poems and, finally, into a broad array of literature containing a melting pot of genres, anywhere from medieval to children’s literature, and action and comedy films.

According to the eminent philosopher Carl Jung, Robin Hood is the shadow:

“[t]he first archetypal figure of the unconscious that we meet when we begin the process

of becoming conscious of ourselves. Robin is both personal and collective shadow; he is

the law-breaker, the thief, and the defier of accepted authority – all that we are taught not

to be. It is no wonder that ‘proper’ literature repressed him, since he represents a threat to

prescribed order” (Cech 14).

Yet, it is quite obvious why we root for this thief with a heart of gold – he stands for all

of us. “Outlaw” to the oppressors, he is “everyman” to the oppressed.

At the time of publication, Pyle’s work was criticized because it was ‘antiquated,’ but that was his own stylistic choice: “it was meant to be, even at the time it was written, an old- fashioned book about a world where certain things never change” (Cech 14). That is where

Robin Hood still resides even today: in the eternal Sherwood Forests of readers’ imaginations.

As Fairbanks’ film reminds us, “history is a compound of both legend and chronicle” (Robin

Hood 1922); this is quite true of the Robin Hood tales – while it was likely that an individual existed by his name, reputation, and history, the fictionalization of his character and deeds has transformed him into a larger-than-life, immortalized, and utterly memorable, hero.

69 All in all, the Robin Hood tradition continues to amaze, intrigue, and entertain us. It is, perhaps, ironic that a bunch of grown men clad in green tights cavorting around in the forest are more civilized and righteous than the knights of Prince John and his Sheriff, just as it is ironic that a bandit who could keep all of the treasure he acquires for himself decides, instead, to spread the wealth to those goodhearted folk who are in dire need. Whatever the representation and interpretation of Robin Hood’s personality traits may be, as they vary from book to book, and from film to film, there is no doubt that the main reason that the Robin Hood tradition has been able to survive so long, and has been able to evolve with our times and our changing desires for literature and film, just as Robin attempts to evade capture (every single time!), is because Robin

Hood is a story that continues to grow with, and grow on, its readers, whether they are young children poring over Pyle’s The Merry Adventures, or adults going to the cinema to see the latest film rendition. Robin Hood brings out the child in all of us, and his merry way of life inspires us all to pursue our dreams, regardless of the obstacles we may face, and to fight for what is just and right, despite the rank, position, or title of our oppressors.

So entranced, we, and hopefully our children, and theirs, will continue to accept Pyle’s enduring invitation: “Will you come with me, sweet Reader? I thank you. Give me your hand”

(Pyle Preface).

70 Works Cited

Brockman, Bennett A. "Robin Hood and the Invention of Children's Literature." Children's Literature 10 (1982): 1-17. Print.

Brooks, Mel, dir. Robin Hood: Men in Tights. Perf. Cary Elwes. 20th Century Fox, 1993. Film.

Cech, John. "Pyle's Robin Hood: Still Merry After All These Years." Children's Literature Association Quarterly 8.2 (1983): 11-14. Print.

Curtiz, Michael, dir. The Adventures of Robin Hood. Perf. Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland. Warner Home Video, 1938. Film.

Dwan, Allan, dir. Robin Hood. Prod. and perf. Douglas Fairbanks. Cobra Entertainment LLC, 1922. Film.

Knight, Stephen T. Robin Hood: A Mythic Biography. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003. Print.

Keen, Maurice H. The Outlaws of Medieval Legend. New York: Dorest Press, 1989. Print.

Potter, Lois, and Joshua Calhoun. Images of Robin Hood: Medieval to Modern. Newark: University of Delaware, 2008. Print.

Pyle, Howard. The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1883. Print.

Reitherman, Wolfgang, dir. Robin Hood. Buena Vista Distribution Company, 1973. Film.

Reynolds, Kevin, dir. Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Perf. Kevin Costner and Morgan Freeman. Warner Bros., 2003. Film.

Scott, Ridley, dir. Robin Hood. Perf. Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett. Universal Pictures, 2010. Film.

71