Читать книгу History of English Literature (Vol. 1-3) - Taine Hippolyte - Страница 27

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If they have acquired liberties, it is because they have obtained them by force; circumstances have assisted, but character has done more. The protection of the great barons and the alliance of the plain knights have strengthened them; but it was by their native roughness and energy that they maintained their independence. Look at the contrast they offer at this moment to their neighbors. What occupies the mind of the French people? The fabliaux, the naughty tricks of Reynard, the art of deceiving Master Isengrin, of stealing his wife, of cheating him out of his dinner, of getting him beaten by a third party without danger to one's self; in short, the triumph of poverty and cleverness over power united to folly. The popular hero is already the artful plebeian, chaffing, light-hearted, who, later on, will ripen into Panurge and Figaro, not apt to withstand you to your face, too sharp to care for great victories and habits of strife, inclined by the nimbleness of his wit to dodge round an obstacle; if he but touch a man with the tip of his finger, that man tumbles into the trap. But here we have other customs: it is Robin Hood, a valiant outlaw, living free and bold in the green forest, waging frank and open war against sheriff and law.[157] If ever a man was popular in his country, it was he. "It is he," says an old historian, "whom the common people love so dearly to celebrate in games and comedies, and whose history, sung by fiddlers, interests them more than any other." In the sixteenth century he still had his commemoration day, observed by all the people in the small towns and in the country. Bishop Latimer, making his pastoral tour, announced one day that he would preach in a certain place. On the morrow, proceeding to the church, he found the doors closed, and waited more than an hour before they brought him the key. At last a man came and said to him, "Syr, thys ys a busye day with us; we cannot heare you: it is Robyn Hoodes Daye. The parishe are gone abrode to gather for Robyn Hoode.... I was fayne there to geve place to Robyn Hoode."[158] The bishop was obliged to divest himself of his ecclesiastical garments and proceed on his journey, leaving his place to archers dressed in green, who played on a rustic stage the parts of Robin Hood, Little John, and their band. In fact, he was the national hero. Saxon in the first place and waging war against the men of law, against bishops and archbishops, whose sway was so heavy; generous, moreover, giving to a poor ruined knight clothes, horse, and money to buy back the land he had pledged to a rapacious abbot; compassionate too, and kind to the poor, enjoining his men not to injure yeomen and laborers; but above all, rash, bold, proud, who would go and draw his bow before the sheriff's eyes and to his face; ready with blows, whether to give or take. He slew fourteen out of fifteen foresters who came to arrest him; he slays the sheriff, the judge, the town gatekeeper; he is ready to slay as many more as like to come; and all this joyously, jovially, like an honest fellow who eats well, has a hard skin, lives in the open air, and revels in animal life.

"In somer when the shawes be sheyne,

And leves be large and long,

Hit is fulle mery in feyre foreste

To here the foulys song."

That is how many ballads begin; and the fine weather, which makes the stags and oxen butt with their horns, inspires them with the thought of exchanging blows with sword or stick. Robin dreamed that two yeomen were thrashing him, and he wants to go and find them, angrily repelling Little John, who offers to go first:

"Ah John, by me thou settest noe store,

And that I farley finde:

How offt send I my men before,

And tarry myselfe behinde?

"It is no cunnin a knave to ken,

An a man but heare him speake;

An it were not for bursting of my bowe,

John, I thy head wold breake."[159]...

He goes alone, and meets the robust yeoman, Guy of Gisborne,

"He that had neyther beene kythe nor kin,

Might have seen a full fayre fight,

To see how together these yeomen went

With blades both browne and bright,

"To see how these yeomen together they fought

Two howres of a summer's day;

Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy

Them fettled to flye away."[160]

You see Guy the yeoman is as brave as Robin Hood; he came to seek him in the wood, and drew the bow almost as well as he. This old popular poetry is not the praise of a single bandit, but of an entire class, the yeomanry. "God haffe mersy on Robin Hodys solle, and saffe all god yemanry." That is how many ballads end. The brave yeoman, inured to blows, a good archer, clever at sword and stick, is the favorite. There were also, redoubtable, armed townsfolk, accustomed to make use of their arms. Here they are at work:

"'O that were a shame,' said jolly Robin,

'We being three, and thou but one,'

The pinder[161] leapt back then thirty good foot, 'Twas thirty good foot and one. "He leaned his back fast unto a thorn, And his foot against a stone, And there he fought a long summer's day, A summer's day so long. "Till that their swords on their broad bucklers Were broke fast into their hands."[162]

Often even Robin does not get the advantage:

"'I pass not for length,' bold Arthur reply'd,

'My staff is of oke so free;

Eight foot and a half, it will knock down a calf,

And I hope it will knock down thee.'

"Then Robin could no longer forbear,

He gave him such a knock,

Quickly and soon the blood came down

Before it was ten a clock.

"Then Arthur he soon recovered himself,

And gave him such a knock on the crown,

That from every side of bold Robin Hood's head

The blood came trickling down.

"Then Robin raged like a wild boar,

As soon as he saw his own blood:

Then Bland was in hast, he laid on so fast,

As though he had been cleaving of wood.

"And about and about and about they went,

Like two wild bores in a chase,

Striving to aim each other to maim,

Leg, arm, or any other place.

"And knock for knock they lustily dealt,

Which held for two hours and more,

Till all the wood rang at every bang,

They ply'd their work so sore.

"Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,' said Robin Hood,

'And let thy quarrel fall;

For here we may thrash our bones all to mesh,

And get no coyn at all.

"And in the forrest of merry Sherwood,

Hereafter thou shalt be free.'

'God a mercy for nought, my freedom I bought,

I may thank my staff, and not thee.'"[163]...

"Who are you, then?" says Robin:

"'I am a tanner,' bold Arthur reply'd,

In Nottingham long I have wrought;

And if thou'lt come there, I vow and swear,

I will tan thy hide for nought.'

"'God a mercy, good fellow,' said jolly Robin,

'Since thou art so kind and free;

And if thou wilt tan my hide for nought,

I will do as much for thee.'"[164]

With these generous offers, they embrace; a free exchange of honest blows always prepares the way for friendship. It was so Robin Hood tried Little John, whom he loved all his life after. Little John was seven feet high, and being on a bridge, would not give way. Honest Robin would not use his bow against him, but went and cut a stick seven feet long; and they agreed amicably to fight on the bridge until one should fall into the water. They fall to so merrily that "their bones ring." In the end Robin falls, and he feels only the more respect for Little John. Another time, having a sword with him, he was thrashed by a tinker who had only a stick. Full of admiration, he gives him a hundred pounds. Again he was thrashed by a potter, who refused him toll; then by a shepherd. They fight to amuse themselves. Even nowadays boxers give each other a friendly grip before setting to; they knock one another about in this country honorably, without malice, fury, or shame. Broken teeth, black eyes, smashed ribs, do not call for murderous vengeance: it would seem that the bones are more solid and the nerves less sensitive in England than elsewhere. Blows once exchanged, they take each other by the hand, and dance together on the green grass:

"Then Robin took them both by the hands,

And danc'd round about the oke tree.

'For three merry men, and three merry men,

And three merry men we be.'"

Moreover, these people, in each parish, practised the bow every Sunday, and were the best archers in the world; from the close of the fourteenth century the general emancipation of the villeins multiplied their number greatly, and you can now understand how, amidst all the operations and changes of the great central powers, the liberty of the subject survived. After all, the only permanent and unalterable guarantee, in every country and under every constitution, is this unspoken declaration in the heart of the mass of the people, which is well understood on all sides: "If any man touches my property, enters my house, obstructs or molests me, let him beware. I have patience, but I have also strong arms, good comrades, a good blade, and, on occasion, a firm resolve, happen what may, to plunge my blade up to its hilt in his throat."