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Allusions 1901-2000 (texts)

{"pagename":"1913 - Cooke, Arthur Owens - Forest of Dean","alcent":20,"aldecade":1911,"alyear":1913},{"pagename":"1913 - Hatfield, James Taft - Book review","alcent":20,"aldecade":1911,"alyear":1913},{"pagename":"1913 - Lawrence, D H - Sons and Lovers","alcent":20,"aldecade":1911,"alyear":1913},{"pagename":"1922 - Bailey, Margaret Emerson - Robin Hood's Barn","alcent":20,"aldecade":1921,"alyear":1922},{"pagename":"1923 - Oakley, George Robert - In Olden Days","alcent":20,"aldecade":1921,"alyear":1923},{"pagename":"1925 - Newell, A B M - Hillside View of Industrial History","alcent":20,"aldecade":1921,"alyear":1925},{"pagename":"1925 - Thwaite, J - Poem on rams' names","alcent":20,"aldecade":1921,"alyear":1925},{"pagename":"1933 - Orwell, George - Down and Out in Paris and London","alcent":20,"aldecade":1931,"alyear":1933},{"pagename":"1936 - Andersen, Knud - High Tide at Dover (7)","alcent":20,"aldecade":1931,"alyear":1936},{"pagename":"1937 - Palmer, William T - Odd Corners in Yorkshire Dales","alcent":20,"aldecade":1931,"alyear":1937},{"pagename":"1969 - Fowles, John - French Lieutenant's Woman","alcent":20,"aldecade":1961,"alyear":1969},{"pagename":"1985 - Fowles, John - A Maggot","alcent":20,"aldecade":1981,"alyear":1985},

By Henrik Thiil Nielsen, 2013-08-01. Revised by Henrik Thiil Nielsen, 2018-11-01.

The following 12 allusions are found for the period 1901-2000:

1913 - Cooke, Arthur Owens - Forest of Dean

Coleford is the rendezvous to-day, and we can gain it as we please — afoot, by cycle, or by railway through Parkend. Our friend the Instructor joins us there by train, together with a member of the class; seven more await us just by Marian's Lodge, a mile due north of Coleford by the road that leads through Berry Hill. Eight well-set-up intelligent young working-men in all, ranging in age from twenty to five-and-twenty. The school, when founded, admitted pupils of a younger age, but the results were not found satisfactory, and the limit has since been raised. [p. 135:]

 Attached to Marian's Lodge, as to most other of the Forest lodges, is a nursery, and a short pause is made beside the fence while we inspect its infent occupants. Larches six inches high are growing somewhat brown and sickly from the long May drought. The class, being one for beginners, is invited to note the difference between the "green" and "blue" varieties of Douglas fir, and is enlightened as to the superior merits of the former tree. [... p. 136: ...]

 From Marian's Lodge we have been following a course north-west, and now are skirting Bracelands, the lonely wood-embosomed residence of a Forest official.[1]

1913 - Hatfield, James Taft - Book review

Equally clear is Professor Wood's supreme piety toward the aged Goethe. He works from the principle that even the most phantasmagoric episode in Faust contains some adequate, worthy meaning, which he purposes to chase to its capture, though the hunt should lead around Robin Hood's barn; he will let go of no hint until he has harried it to quiescence.[2]

1913 - Lawrence, D H - Sons and Lovers

Carston, Waite and Co. found they had struck on a good thing, so, down the valleys of the brooks from Selby and Nuttall, new mines were sunk, until soon there were six pits working. From Nuttall, high up on the sandstone among the woods, the railway ran, past the ruined priory of the Carthusians and past Robin Hood’s Well, down to Spinney Park, then on to Minton, a large mine among corn-fields; from Minton across the farm-lands of the valley side to Bunker’s Hill, branching off there, and running north to Beggarlee [p. 10:] and Selby, that looks over at Crich and the hills of Derbyshire; six mines like black studs on the countryside, linked by a loop of fine chain, the railway.[3]

1922 - Bailey, Margaret Emerson - Robin Hood's Barn

[Book title:] Robin Hood's Barn: the Confessions of a Garden Adventurer[4]

1923 - Oakley, George Robert - In Olden Days

[...] folk nowadays think it still worth their while to climb the steep way from Whitworth, past Houses o'th' Hill, to see Robin Hood's well in Robin Bank. The well indeed is changed, for a trough [p. 151:] of zinc now holds the water so famous for its goodness that in days not long gone by it was though worth the trouble of carrying to Rochdale. What might not one expect from a well blessed by holy Chadde himself, and "crossed" again by famous Robin Hood, even if a trough of zinc has replaced the more picturesque receptacle of old.[5]

1925 - Newell, A B M - Hillside View of Industrial History

Locally much romantic rock scenery may be found at Robin Hood's Bed on Blackstone Edge, Langfield and Erringden Moors, and most notable of all that fine and time-honoured outcrop on Stansfield heights known as Bride Stones.[6]

1925 - Thwaite, J - Poem on rams' names

The'r up-de-date, an' aw, lass,
They keep weel, oot o' t' rut;
Ther'c [sic] yan call'd "Muker Fashion,"
An' another "Swalehead Nut."
Ther's "Samson" an' ther's "Buff'lo Bill,"
Beeath fit fer onny flock;
Ther's "Moss Rose," "Snowdrop," "Shamrock,"—
He's t' pick o' t' Pry Hoose Stock.
Ther's "Swell," and "Swagger," and "Surprise,"—
The best o' Stooansdil blood;
Ther's "Little John" an' aw, lass,
But neea bowld "Robin Hood."
As Edwin knocked 'em doon, lass,
Yan felt a lile bit stunned
When Steeane Hoose Shearin, "Hero,"
Was seld for Eighty Pund.
T' best o' yowes er queens, lass,
The'r crooned, an' weel they pay;
An' t' teeup' ats' bred l' Swo'dil-Head
Is t'king o' teeups te-day.[7]

1933 - Orwell, George - Down and Out in Paris and London

Another tramp told the story of Gilderoy, the Scottish robber. Gilderoy was the man who was condemned to be hanged, escaped, captured the judge who had sentenced him, and (splendid fellow!) hanged him. The tramps liked the story, of course, but the interesting thing was to see that they had got it all wrong. Their version was that Gilderoy escaped to America, whereas in reality he was recaptured and put to death. The story had been amended, no doubt deliberately; just as children amend the stories of Samson and Robin Hood, giving them happy endings which are quite imaginary.[8]

1936 - Andersen, Knud - High Tide at Dover (7)

Her var Forhindringsløb og Gallopløb på kulørte Træheste, Verdens største omrejsende zoologiske Have, Skydebaner, Rutschebaner, Gynger og Vægte, hvor man blev vejet gratis, hvis Ejeren ikke kunde gætte, hvor tung man var. Gyngerne bar navne som "Aquitania", "Majestic", "Queen Mary" og andre af de store Oceanflyvere, mens Luftbøsserne hed "Lange Tom", "Tykke Bertha" og "Robin Hood". Her var Astrologer og Spaakvinder, som med Garanti stillede Horoskoper af forskellig Kvalitet helt op til 5 Sh. pr. Stk. Her var Karuseller, trukket med Haandkraft, mens man red paa "Pegasus", "Windsor Lad", "Golden Miller" eller andre af de berømte Væddeløbsheste, hvis Navne hver Englænder kender bedre end Navnene paa de store Profeter.

[IRHB translation:]
There were steeplechases, horse-races on colourful wooden horses, the world's largest travelling zoo, shooting galleries, switchbacks, swings, and weighing scales where weighing was free if the owner could not guess your weight. The swings carried names like "Aquitania", "Queen Mary" and other such great ocean flyers, while the pellet guns were named "Long Tom", "Fat Bertha" and "Robin Hood". There were astrologers and fortune-tellers who drew up horoscopes, warranted to be of varying quality and set you back up to 5s. apiece. There were hand-drawn carousels where one rode the "Pegasus", "Windsor Lad", "Golden Miller" or one of the other famous race-horses, whose names every Englishman knows better than the names of the great prophets.[9]

1937 - Palmer, William T - Odd Corners in Yorkshire Dales

 Yorkshire is unique in Britain for underground cascades and waterfalls. In many dales and moors the sheets of mountain limestone are fissured and cracked by past earth-movements, and the rain-water, percolating through the heather, bog, and grass, has dissolved shafts and steps into the depths. At many fissures, even on high moors and ridges, the sound of falling water can be heard, and of course there are jets and fountains in the potholes which require special equipment for their descent. If you lay your ear to the ground at a certain point in Ribblesdale you will hear "how the water comes down at Lodore" in fairyland, although not so much as a rivulet is to be seen outside Robin Hood's Mill. Hellen Pot has an underground waterfall of about 40 feet, and many others could be recorded. Hull Pot, an open fissure near Horton-in-Ribblesdale, also has a fall of 50 feet, part of which is visible. Alum Pot, on the south side of the Ribble, has a water-course entering 50 feet below the surface by way of Long Churn, a side gallery which itself has one or two small water-falls. At the lip there is a rush of water into the black main chamber.[10]

1969 - Fowles, John - French Lieutenant's Woman

Five uneventful days passed after the last I have described. For Charles, no opportunities to continue his exploration of the Undercliff presented themselves. On one day there was a long excursion to Sidmouth; the mornings of the others were taken up by visits or other more agreeable diversions, such as archery, then a minor rage among the younger ladies of England—the dark green de rigueur was so becoming, and so delightful the tamed gentlemen walking to fetch the arrows from the butts (where the myopic Ernestina's seldom landed, I am afraid) and returning with pretty jokes about Cupid and hearts and Maid Marian.[11]

1985 - Fowles, John - A Maggot


  I have spent these two previous days at the very place of your most concern, and write while all is fresh in mind. This place is to my best computation two and a half miles above the ford upon the Bideford road and the valley thereto is known as the Cleeve, after its cleft and woody sides, that make it more ravine than vale, like many in this country. The cavern lies with a sward and drinking-pool for beasts before, in the upper part of a side-valley to the aforesaid, the branch path to which is reached in one and three quarter miles from the ford upon the high road. All is desart in these parts, and the valley most seldom used unless by shepherds to gain the moor above. One such, named James Lock, and his boy, of the parish of Daccombe, was at the cavern when we came; as he told us was his summer wont, for he has passed many such there. This Mopsus appeared a plain fellow, no more [p. 279:] lettered than his sheep, but honest in his manner
  The place has a mischievous history, being known to him and his like as Dolling's or Dollin's Cave, after one of that name in his great-grandfather's time who led a notorious gang of rogues that boldly resided here and lived a merry life in the manner of Robin Hood (or so said this Lock), with long impunity, by reason of the remoteness of the place and their cunning in thieving more abroad than in the neighbourhood itself; were never brought to justice that he knows, and in the end removed away. And in proof thereof he showed me inside the entrance to his grotto and rude-carved upon the native rock the initials I.D.H.H., that is, John Dolling His House. The rogue would have been a free-holder, it seems.[12]