To re-enter the greenwood after twenty years is a somewhat daunting task. Obviously one should not march determinedly over the same old track, yet must avoid getting lost in new mazes. (Gray in )

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With Douglas Gray’s sage words and advice on my mind, I shall start by reopening an issue broached twenty-three years ago (1996) in my PhD dissertation (, Príncipe): Shakespeare’s scanty references to Robin Hood and his outlaw circle. Notwithstanding three other minor allusions, pride of place must lie with As You Like It, performed by the Chamberlain’s Men sometime between 1598 and 1600 and first printed in the 1623 Folio (). As one may recall, Robin is mentioned in a dialogue between Charles and Oliver a propos the old Duke, whose lands he had been deprived of by Frederick, his younger brother. When Oliver asks Charles where would the Duke live, the latter replies:

They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. (Act I, Scene I in Shakespeare, ed. Sybil Thorndike, 221)

A deconstruction of this quote might start with ’s remark that

(…) a legend of Merry England is merged with the classical myth of the Golden Age, and even in the word “flock” there is a hint of pastoral associations. Yet this is only by report, as the repetition of ‘they say’ reminds us. Hearsay distances reality, and is itself the way in which legends come into being. (184)

Moreover, this is plainly an analogical and collateral reference; Robin Hood is not mentioned per se, let alone included as a character in this—or indeed any other!—Shakespearean play. The idyllic image of peace and harmony, of carefree and pleasant life in natural surroundings, also conveyed through speeches like the Duke’s and songs like “Under the greenwood tree”, sung by Amiens, can be linked with the modes and conventions of pastoral literature (and ultimately utopianism, justifying a meteoric reference to Sir Thomas More’s Utopia, 1516), as well as that celebrated classical and Renaissance locus amoenus, Arcadia. But, apart from the legendary home of Greek gods in central Peloponnese, where on Earth is Arcadia? In more general and academic terms, where, when and how can dream-worlds and neverlands be located? In some unchartable mytholiterary geography alone? In (a) timeless space? In (a) spaceless time? As claims,

(…) the Golden Age has to be seen as a myth only. Then it can retain its power over us, a power it must lose if we tarnish it with verifiable fact, locating it at some unspecified distance from a present we dislike. The only thing we can specify about the distance is that it is immeasurable because unchangeable. Every generation is equidistant from Arcadia. (246)

With regard to As You Like It, even bearing in mind that Charles mentions the forest of Arden, not Sherwood, the analogy remains a fragile one: for indeed, can a medieval forest, with its wild animals, dangers, hardships and rough life in general, be real(istica)ly perceived and/or depicted as a new Garden of Eden welcoming any(one’s) Fall into outlawry? Not to mention that, as legends have it, Robin was allegedly a noble robber (when it comes to the sixteenth century tradition, both senses of the word “noble” could apply), a skillful archer and an inveterate deer hunter, rather than a more or less idle and musically gifted shepherd….

That said, the legendary image of Robin Hood as a trickster, someone who enjoyed playing his pranks on the wicked sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John, as well as on proud Norman barons, wealthy bishops and fat abbots, led some nineteenth-century scholars to suggest a connection with Robin Goodfellow/Puck, “that shrewd and knavish sprite (…), that merry wanderer of the night (…)” (Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II, Scene I in Shakespeare, ed. Sybil Thorndike, 178). With due respect to mythological, anthropological and folklore studies, I believe this will hardly stand when set against the earliest, or oldest surviving, traditional ballads (fifteenth century), which, despite all the baffling philological and historical problems they present, depict a real human being, rather than some forest elf or woodland sprite. As F. J. Child (1825–1896) put it, “I cannot admit that even the shadow of a case has been made out by those who would attach a mythical character (…) to Robin Hood (…).” (III, 48), adding in a footnote: “The reasoning (…) has been signally loose and incautious; still the general conclusion finds ready acceptance with mythologists (…) and deductions are made with the steadiness of a geometer” (Ibidem).

Shakespeare’s laconism on Robin Hood can be contrasted with a plethora of statements made throughout the Tudor period by British chroniclers (John Major, Richard Grafton, William Warner, John Stow…) and playwrights (George Peele, Robert Greene…), not to mention other plays and broadside ballads, extant and lost, sermons, proverbs and sayings and the first anonymous biography of the English outlaw. But the main contrast that can be drawn at the end of the Elizabethan period would oppose the Bard’s (almost) ‘silence’ – so to speak – to Anthony Munday’s and Henry Chettle’s plays, The Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington and The Death of Robert Earl of Huntington, both ascribed by Philip Henslowe (?–1616) to 1597–98, acted sometime between February and March 1598 and first published in 1601 (). The critics still disagree on whether Downfall was written by Munday alone and then revised by Chettle or written from scratch by both authors (as seems to have been the case with Death), as well as whether or not Death should be seen as the continuation of Downfall and hence a second part of one single play on the misfortunes of the dispossessed earl. These questions, however relevant, must rank second when compared with the importance of the plays themselves, acknowledged by most critics; , for example, regard them as “unquestionably the most influential of all pieces of dramatic writing about Robin Hood and the only extant Elizabethan plays in which the outlaw’s career is treated at length” (44).

An article published long ago by A. H. Thorndike () explores the issue of a possible rivalry between the two main dramatic companies of the late Elizabethan period—the Chamberlain’s Men and the Admiral’s Men—with whom Shakespeare and Munday were respectively involved. As can be seen, Harbage dates from 1598 the first performances of Downfall and Death by the Admiral’s Men, whose director was the above mentioned Philip Henslowe, also the owner and manager of The Rose theatre. Considering the rivalry between the Admiral’s Men and the Chamberlain’s Men (the latter associated with Shakespeare), as well as the probability that As You Like It was performed for the first time already after Downfall and Death (see above, n. 2), Thorndike suggests that Shakespeare’s reference, brief as it is, may have been meant as a response to Munday and Chettle (65–66 and 69). This point is endorsed, among others, by , one of the leading cultural critics of the Robin Hood legend; so whether or not the sequence of dates is purely coincidental, Thorndike’s reasoning remains an attractive one, calling for further research on the channels of sponsorship, production and competition going on (and behind) the late Tudor stage.

Below is an example that illustrates such networks: as the full titles of Downfall and Death make clear, the plays owe an inspirational debt to a poem printed in 1594, Matilda, the Faire and Chaste Daughter of Lord R. Fitzwater. Its author was Michael Drayton (1563–1631), better known as a poet than as a playwright. Nevertheless, Drayton was also a member of the professional circle of Philip Henslowe (whose patron was the Earl of Nottingham), and he would later include Robin Hood in Poly-Olbion, a national and poetical celebration of local worthies, organized by counties and written between 1612 (or 1613) and 1622. The passage is too long to be transcribed here, but, as might be expected, Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest are mentioned in the Nottinghamshire section.

Let us change scenes, from the Elizabethan to the late Edwardian-early Georgian age, a period uncovered both in my doctoral thesis (1996) and in the ensuing book (, Príncipe). (1880–1958), whose poem “Sherwood” was recently discussed (), wrote also a play entitled Sherwood, or Robin Hood and the Three Kings, first published in the United States in 1911 and in Britain in 1926. Noyes’s play has been examined by Lois Potter, scanning the main (inter)textual influences and hints, like those of the medieval and early modern traditional ballads (A Gest of Robin Hood, Robin Hood’s Death, etc.), Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe (1819), Thomas Love Peacock’s Maid Marian (1822) or Alfred Tennyson’s The Foresters (1892). But we must, obviously, focus on Shakespeare and recall that Walter Jerrold described Sherwood as “a kind of tragic Midsummer Night’s Dream” (qtd. in )… Be that as it may, the fact is that the voice of the Bard, although it can be heard, “faint and far away”, in Noyes’s play, still comes across as ‘silenced’ by the much stronger influence of Munday and Chettle.

In order to prove the point, suffice it to say that although Oberon, Titania and Puck/Robin Goodfellow feature in both Shakespeare’s and Noyes’s scripts, the overall atmosphere of love tricks, spells and delusions in Midsummer Night’s Dream is totally absent from Sherwood. Coexisting invisibly with the outlaws’ forest, Noyes’s “Dreamland” (Act I, Scene 1, 15) consists of a fairy kingdom ruled over by Oberon and Titania; a magic realm whose ivory gates, thanks to the good deeds of Robin Hood, open up at night to the poor, the needy and the oppressed, allowing in turn the woodland spirits to go out and revel in the forest glades. Throughout the play, Marian’s fool—Shadow-of-a-Leaf, a character who is said to have fairy blood; who, as Little John puts it, “flits like Moonshine thro’ the forest (…) (Act I, Scene 1, 13) and whose name may recall those of Shakespeare’s Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth and Mustard-seed— acts as a mediator between the human world and that of the fairies. According to Lois Potter, this coexistence is “the most important and distinctive aspect of the play” (173). In fact, one may argue that, in Sherwood, Alfred Noyes has given a fresh and imaginative twist to Shakespeare’s fairies. However, whether that makes the Bard’s involvement with the Robin Hood legend or the echoes of his voice on Noyes any stronger is debatable.

Conversely, and irrespective of other literary influences like those mentioned above, the amount of information taken by Noyes from Downfall and Death (particularly the former) is a more substantial one. Consider, for instance, Robin’s title and condition as Earl of Huntingdon; Queen Elinor’s crush for Robin and Prince/King John’s lust for Matilda/Marian; her status as daughter of Lord Fitzwater (Munday) or Fitzwalter (Noyes); the nameless sheriff of Nottingham’s former condition as a servant of Earl Robert, just like Munday’s Warman; the inclusion of Warman himself and Jenny as Marian’s maid and Much the Miller’s son’s love; the rescue of Will Scarlet from the gallows; and, finally, the outlaws’ code of conduct. Sometimes we, as readers, end up with the uncomfortable feeling that Noyes borders on plagiarism… (See Appendixes).

All things considered, it is hard to avoid concluding that Shakespeare was not very interested in, nor involved with, the Robin Hood legend. Perhaps he did not take it seriously, thus echoing views voiced by clergymen and theologians in the late medieval and early modern periods.  goes as far as to mention, in rather harsh terms, “Shakespeare’s entirely negative contribution to the outlaw myth” (Complete Study 134). He thereby dismisses As You Like It as “a non-Robin Hood play, a negative response to the emergence of the theatrical and gentrified version of the outlaw hero” (Mythic Biography 62). But the fact that, unlike the Chamberlain’s Men, the Admiral’s had, through their patron, an effective connection with Nottingham (a place which, incidentally, seems to have gained ground over Barnsdale from the seventeenth century onwards), may also provide us a key (or, at least, a clue) to a revaluation of Shakespeare’s ‘silence’ towards a ‘matter of Sherwood’ appropriated by a rival company.