“It means Richard is free and in England! We have seen him. Let us away!”
It was so. The ransom, partly raised from English loyalty and partly pledged by Richard’s faithful friends, had been delivered to the captors, and the plot of John and King Philip had failed. John fled to Normandy, and was subsequently forgiven by his brother. “I will try to forget my injuries as soon as John will forget my pardon,” said Richard, sarcastically. This is the only case on record where Cœur de Lion made the mistake of being too merciful. If he had disposed of John, England would have been saved from its worst king, but possibly might have missed the advantage of the great charter of rights at that time. But Richard took swift vengeance on King Philip.
Richard had landed in England March 12, 1194. He remained only two months, the rest of his reign, five years, being spent on the continent “in his proper line of business”—fighting. The two months were distinguished by two things: his extortion from his subjects, and his famous visit in the disguise of an abbott to Robin Hood, the merry outlaw of Sherwood Forest. Popular ballads have it that Richard indulged in a little “fun” with the doughty outlaw, and was badly worsted; while sober history has it that the lion-hearted king’s method of raising money “combined the attributes of the tyrant and the swindler.[B]” England had already been impoverished by the enormous taxes to raise the king’s ransom, and his return was the signal for fresh exactions. He ordered the great seal to be broken, declared the title to all property void, and required everybody to take out new deeds and pay the price over again for the affixing of the new seal. Ah, yes; “life was earnest in those days, stormy in its ambition, hearty in its sports,” and we ought to add, rascally in its administration. Government is gentler and more refined now—is it more honest?
The manner of Richard’s death was in as marked contrast to the heroic character which poetry and romance have given him, as were his capture, captivity and deliverance. He was killed in Normandy in a sordid quarrel for the possession of a pot of money which one of his knights had found concealed in his castle—very much as if Alexander the Great had met his death in a gambling-house row over the stakes.
The vulgar and repulsive features of Richard Cœur de Lion’s career did not detract at all from his character as a hero in the days of chivalry. Indeed, the minstrels sang admiringly of Richard’s atrocities: of how he supped gayly on a fat Saracen baby when he could not get roast pig; and caused a Saracen’s head to be roasted and served up to the courtly ambassadors of Saladin; and butchered his prisoners by the thousands. If the troubadours do not truly set forth Richard’s achievements, they truly mirror the spirit of chivalry in the imputed attributes of its most perfect champion. Comparing the character of this lion-hearted Plantagenet, as thus reflected, with that of Robin Hood, the Saxon hero, as pictured in the popular ballads, we must feel that the common people’s idea of manliness and virtue, though personified in a bandit, was higher than that of the Norman chivalry, and we justify Knight in saying:
“The outlaw had the same attributes of bravery and generosity with which the character of Richard the Lion Hearted has been invested, without exhibiting those ferocious traits which belong to the chivalric worship of mere brute courage and blind fanaticism. The popular notion of a hero is the more refined one, although Robin be merely ‘a good yeoman.’”
“So curtyous an outlawe as he was one
Was never none yfounde.”
[To be continued.]
