Allusion

An allusion (uh-LOO-zhun) is a passing reference to a literary or historical person, place, or event, usually made without explicit identification. The Waste Land is famous for the frequency of its allusions. Indeed, the poem is something of a patchwork made up of a sprawling diversity of references to Greco-Roman mythology, medieval legend, works of anthropology, nursery rhymes, and dance-hall tunes. Most prominent of all are the poem’s allusions to sacred texts (e.g., the Christian Bible, the Buddhist “Fire Sermon,” and the Hindu Upanishads) as well as literary classics from numerous European language traditions (e.g., German, French, and Italian). Eliot indicated the sources for many of his allusions in a series of notes he prepared for the poem’s publication in book form. In the century since its publication, scholars have exhaustively analyzed these references and tracked down others that Eliot neglected to mention in his notes. For in-depth documentation of the hundreds of allusions contained in the poem, consult a fully annotated edition. Lawrence Rainey’s The Annotated Waste Land with Eliot’s Contemporary Prose is currently the best-available study edition.

Perhaps more important than knowing precisely what Eliot is referencing at any given moment is the broader issue of how his allusions work. Occasionally they serve as simple, passing references with little immediate significance, as when the speaker of the first vignette in “The Burial of the Dead” refers to the Hofgarten in Munich. But most of the time Eliot’s allusions have a more complex function. As an example, consider the opening of “A Game of Chess” (lines 77–80):

     The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
     Glowed on the marble, where the glass
     Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
     From which a golden Cupidon peeped out

These lines echo a similar passage in Shakespeare’s play Antony and Cleopatra that describes Cleopatra’s appearance as she floats on a barge down a river (II.ii.192–95):

     The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
     Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
     Purple the sails, and so perfumèd that
     The winds were lovesick with them

Eliot reimagines these lines and applies them to a different context, but the allusion clearly connects the unnamed wealthy woman to Cleopatra, a defiant queen who dies tragically by suicide.

Significantly, however, Eliot doesn’t stop at this reference. As the description of the wealthy woman’s home continues, there’s a reference to candles that “flung their smoke into the laquearia” (line 92). The unusual word laquearia is a Latin term for a paneled ceiling—much like the ceiling of the gilded hall where Dido, the queen of Carthage, received Aeneas in Virgil’s Aeneid (I.726–726):

     Blazing torches hang down from the gilded ceiling [laquearibus],
     And vanquish the night with their flames.

This allusion introduces new layers of complexity to the scene. The allusion to the ceiling panels in Dido’s hall creates an oblique links between the unnamed wealthy woman and Dido. Readers who are familiar with the Aeneid will know that, in a fit of passion after being abandoned by Aeneas, Dido stabs herself. Eliot’s wealthy woman is thus linked to two tragic queens, both of whom were entangled in complex and frustrating forms of love. And as we readers soon find out, the unnamed wealthy woman is similarly frustrated. She sits waiting for her lover to come. When he finally arrives and she expresses desire for his companionship, he can’t think about anything but death.

The example of the wealthy woman in “A Game of Chess” demonstrates two key points to keep in mind when considering Eliot’s use of allusion. First, Eliot often uses multiple allusions to build referential complexity. As such, it isn’t enough just to look up individual references. It’s also important to consider how allusions relate to each other. Second, in order to understand the relevance of a given allusion, it’s crucial to investigate the larger context from which the reference is taken. In the example above, the single word laquearia directs us to a scene in the Aeneid, but it isn’t that scene that is directly relevant. Rather, it’s the broader context of Dido’s relationship to Aeneas, as well as her tragic end, that matters.

Irony

Irony plays a crucial role throughout The Waste Land, and it shows up in different ways. One way Eliot features irony in the poem is through verbal irony, which is a rhetorical figure where a speaker means something different than what they say. As an example, consider the section of “The Fire Sermon” where Tiresias recounts the sexual liaison between the typist and her lover. When the young man arrives, Tiresias describes him as follows (lines 231–34):

     He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
     A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare,
     One of the low on whom assurance sits
     As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.

Though Tiresias mentions the young man’s splotchy red appearance (“carbuncular”), the overall description may initially appear flattering. The man is gainfully employed and has a “bold” character that seems to inspire confidence, just as “a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire” might do. However, the simile that likens the young man’s reliability to this silk hat is deeply ironic. The key to understanding this irony is the concluding reference to “a Bradford millionaire.” Bradford is a town in northeast England that has long been associated with textile production. During World War I the mills there prospered greatly due to the production of textiles for army uniforms and blankets. After the war, however, the mill owners were charged with profiteering. A “Bradford millionaire” is therefore one “on whom assurance sits” rather poorly.

In addition to this kind of verbal irony, Eliot also uses situational irony to indicate a discrepancy between appearance and reality. He often uses this technique with regard to the named figures who appear in the poem. For instance, in “The Burial of the Dead” we meet a tarot card reader to whom the speaker refers as “Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante” (line 43). The word clairvoyant comes from the French and literally means “clear-seeing.” Such a word is apt for a woman whose profession is to read her client’s future from the cards they draw. And indeed, certain of her prophecies seem to bear out in the poem. For instance, she warns the speaker: “Fear death by water” (line 55). The drowned Phoenician sailor in the poem’s fourth section, “Death by Water,” clearly responds to Madame Sosostris’s warning. 

Yet Madame Sosostris’s predictive ability comes under suspicion when she gets to the card with “the one-eyed merchant” (line 52). At this point, she notes that there is something he carries on his back, / Which I am forbidden to see” (lines 53–54). It’s ironic that someone so famously clear-sighted lacks crucial insight into this card. Adding further to the irony of this moment is the fact that the one-eyed merchant reappears later in the poem, in the form of “Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant” (line 209). Despite having a Greek name that means “high-born” or “noble,” this disheveled and “unshaven” (line 210) man lives as an exile in London, presumably after fleeing from the violence that had beset Smyrna in Eliot’s time. Thus, not only is the nobility of his birth in question, but he also goes on to proposition the speaker for an unwanted homosexual tryst. These are the aspects of the “one-eyed merchant” that Madame Sosostris ironically failed to see.

Juxtaposition

A defining characteristic of Eliot’s poem is its use of juxtaposition to present a vision of modern life as fragmented and disorienting. Juxtaposition has two primary functions in The Waste Land. First, in his composition of the poem Eliot relied heavily on the juxtaposition of various quotations and allusions, often given in fragmented forms. What results is a collage-like assemblage that often has a destabilizing effect. The poem’s famous final stanza offers the most condensed example (lines 426–29):

     London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
     Poi s’ascose nel foco che gli affina
     Quando fiam uti chelidon—O swallow swallow
     Le Prince d’Aquitaine à la tour abolie

These lines juxtapose fragmentary quotations from popular and literary sources in different languages, resulting in a polyglot collage that most readers will find confusing. But that confusion is part of the desired effect, as the speaker acknowledges when, immediately afterward, they declare: “These fragments I have shored against my ruins” (line 430).

In addition to using juxtaposition as a compositional technique for assembling smaller fragments into a larger work, Eliot also uses juxtaposition as a strategy for organizing each of the poem’s five sections. As an example, consider “The Burial of the Dead,” which opens the poem. This section consists of four distinct vignettes, each spoken by a different speaker, with nothing but a line break between to designate the changes of setting and voice. A similar break occurs in “A Game of Chess.” About halfway through this section, there’s a sudden shift away from the third-person speaker who narrates the interaction between the wealthy woman and her lover. Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, a new speaker takes over, this time using a first-person perspective (lines 139–42):

     When Lil’s husband got demobbed, I said—
     I didn’t mince my words, I said to her myself,
     HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
     Now Albert’s coming back, make yourself a bit smart.

Similar breaks and shifts occur throughout the rest of the poem, juxtaposing one vignette with another. The result is a dazzling—if disorienting—kaleidoscope of places and perspectives.

Repetition

Repetition is among the most notable hallmarks of The Waste Land. It comes in a variety of forms and has a range of different effects. Perhaps the most important type of repetition in the poem is refrain, which refers to any word, phrase, or line that gets repeated over the course of a poem. The most obvious refrain in The Waste Land appears in the second half of “A Game of Chess.” There, the story told by an unnamed working-class woman gets repeatedly interrupted by a bartender announcing that it’s time to close: “HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME” (lines 141, 152, 165, 168, 169). Not only does the bartender’s call break the woman’s story up into fragments; its increasing frequency also evokes the existential urgency of time running out. Another significant refrain is the phrase “Unreal City,” which appears twice, in each case as a single line (60 and 207). Line 376 echoes this refrain but reduces it to a single word: “Unreal.” Contrasting with this repeated image of an ominously spectral city is the refrain at the beginning of “The Fire Sermon,” where the speaker refers to the “Sweet Thames” three times, in lines 176, 183, and 184.

Other examples of repetition appear at various points throughout the poem. At their most extreme, these instances of repetition have an effect that communicates obsession and disorientation. For example, consider the exchange between the wealthy woman and her reluctant lover in “A Game of Chess.” The woman is anxious and lonely, and longs for companionship. But her lover, who has just come home, refuses to communicate. His silence pushes her to an outburst of frustrated obsession (lines 111–114):

     “My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
     Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
     What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
     I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

The woman’s obsessive repetition of the words what, speak, and think reflects her uncomprehending frustration, which leaves her isolated in the face of his silence: “Nothing again nothing” (line 120). Another significant example of repetition appears in the poem’s final section, “What the Thunder Said.” There, the speaker meditates on the dry sterility of the land (lines 331–36):

     Here is no water but only rock
     Rock and no water and the sandy road
     The road winding above among the mountains
     Which are mountains of rock without water
     If there were water we should stop and drink
     Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think

The various repetitions of the words water, rock, road, mountains, and stop draw the reader into an almost maddening experience of disorientation.