The Land of Lost Allusion

It was at the breakfast table at Cousin Eliza’s that my present convictions began to take definite form. We were enjoying a family reunion, and Cousin Ellen remarked apropos of the waffles,

‘ Eliza, these are delicious. I have never tasted better!'

‘Praise from Sir Hubert,’ answered Cousin Eliza, affably.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ said Ellen, ‘I could never equal these.’

My nephew William, who has a very deplorable habit of taking very large mouthfuls, had his latest one sufficiently adjusted to be able to remark, ‘Cousin Ellen slings a nasty waffle herself, if you get me.’

A mystified silence hung over us all. Finally Cousin Robert, who is a bit of a philologist and rather prides himself on his recent researches into the modern American language, came to our aid. ‘I believe that, in other words, was what your Cousin Eliza meant to convey by her remark about Sir Hubert. By the way, Eliza, should n’t it be “approbation”?’

Then we plunged into one of the good old family discussions of our youth, ending with loud calls for ‘Bartlett! Bartlett!’ and general grief at the news that Bartlett had fallen to pieces and was being rebound.

William preserved an unblemished silence during the uproar. When the meal was over, he drew me apart. I am his youngest aunt, and as such have the happy position of confidant when he can get no one better.

‘Who’s the Saint Hubert guy you were all het up over, auntie, and the Bartlett who fell to pieces? Let me in on the big idea, can’t you?’

‘Sir Hubert, William, not Saint. And Bartlett! Why William, Bartlett should be to you like Rollo’s Uncle George; like the Lady from Philadelphia; like — ’

But William dwells in the modern land of Lost Allusion, and had no idea what I meant. I doubt if he has ever heard of Rollo. His early youth was unenriched by the precepts of the inestimable Eric, who accomplished so much that ‘little by little’ was a byword in my young days. As for the conservative Sanford, send the more inspirational Merton, what message could they bring to this day of Adams’s acceleration, Einstein’s demonstrations in relativity, and the like?

As for my grandnieces and nephews, when, in the course of time, William shall establish the next generation of our house, these dear little creatures yet unborn will probably think of me as a curious survival of the genus Foo-Foo (an animal much abhorred by their father that is to be).

If I were an educator of the young, which I’m not, there should be classes in allusion in every school, an’ I had my say! Beginning in the primary department, I should work up through all grades, ending with post-graduate classes in all colleges.

As soon as the infant had emerged from the maternal instructions in onomatopœia, I should begin with such simple rudimentary allusions as

‘Who called for his pipe and bowl?’

‘The king of what country went up the hill and down again?’

‘How much money had simple Simon?’

By an easy progression we would pass on to the list of articles necessary to place in the hunting kits of would-be capturers of Snarks, memorizing by the way bits of the table-talk of the March Hare and the Hatter, and the more obvious repartees of the Walrus to t he Carpenter.

Every child of ten should be, by my method, able to differentiate between the Red Queen and the one who uttered the memorable words

And by eleven it should be a simple matter to write clear paragraphs on Flodden Field, Bosworth Field, that of the Cloth of Gold, and — if the musical education is being similarly carried on —Mojacs Field; though perhaps that would better enter into my high-school curriculum.

Along with botany should come simple arboricultural allusions enabling the student to tell in a few words where to find Deodars, the Eucalyptus, the Upas Tree, as well as to recall who sat under the Tom-Tom tree, and where Ygdrasil grew.

In the collegiate and post-graduate courses there would be special facilities for all clergymen, lawyers, writers of scenarios, and advertising men. In these latter groups a knowledge of allusion is imperative. Everyone goes to the ‘movies.’ Everyone seems to read advertisements. What a chance to make the simple humanities an open book to all. Take Chaucerian propaganda, for example, in street-railway advertisement!

with a little footnote stating that the original idea had been taken from Chaucer. No young person reading that would ever forget it, and all the world would be equipped as well as is anyone (except out-and-out English professors) to quote Chaucer!

A dear young thing, after hearing Alfred Noyes read about. Prester John, slipped her arm into mine confidingly, saying, ‘You always know all kinds of queer things, Miss Nancy. Who was that Proctor James he was talking about?’ Oh, the dear old be-thumbed copy of Baring-Gould’s Curious Myths of the Middle Ages! I don’t suppose any young people read that now.

I expect any day to go into some friend’s nursery and find her offspring arranging their radios for a chat with some young sportsmen on Mars, in order to get the reports of the latest canal-race in that planet.

Before the war I should have said that England still preserved the tradition of educating her young along the lines of literary and historical allusiveness; but things are undoubtedly changing there as here, though not so fast.

Well, to each time its customs. It was a good old America, while it lasted — the land where we capped quotations, and played Authors, and Logomachy, and made like tastes in books, pictures, and music the Open Sesame to the gates of friendship, and even love. It was a pleasant place, now blown into oblivion with les neiges d’antin, sunk with Atlantis, dead with the Dodo, flown with the Phœnix. At any rate, with these eyes and these ears, it was permitted me to see and hear the last of it!