Sunday, July 22, 2012

Walking Like Joyce, Talking Like Yeats

A collage of my literary journey in Ireland.
"Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams," is the first Yeats quote I ever read, on a plaque outside his seaside cottage in Howth. Since that first gulp of words, I've bought a volume of his poetry (selected by Seamus Heaney) and have been slowly taking sips of his work whenever I'm parched for beautiful language and imagery. His words ring true for me, and when I discovered that there was a Yeats exhibition at the National Library, I was overjoyed. I saw his personal copy of Walden, his last pair of glasses, personal letters in his own glorious handwriting, scripts for Abbey plays, and even a lock of his hair. Perhaps the most interesting artifact I found, however, wasn't even in the exhibit. At a small bookshop in Athlone, I struck up a conversation with the shop owner and when he recognized my interest in Irish playwrites, he lifted a black binder from the top shelf behind the register. It was filled to the brim with photos, letters, and other snippets collected from auctions that formed a shrine to Yeats, Beckett, Joyce, and Sheridan.

What stuck out most was a small piece of yellowing paper with the words, "Only the wasteful virtues earn the sun," dated April 24, 1916. According to the bookshop owner, this was Yeats' first reaction to the Easter Rising. He told me a story that shed light on the meaning behind the poet's curious word choice. When Yeats was younger, a young man from his home town jumped overboard a ship to save a woman's hat that had caught in the wind and drifted in the water. In his heroic attempt to salvage a mere hat, the man drowned. Yeats' mother thought that the man wasted his whole life because he was trying to be virtuous. Yeats, who had mixed feelings about the Rising, considered the event a "wasteful virtue" since so many men wasted their talents to rot in jail or be executed. However, he also adds that such a folly can "earn the sun," which shows that maybe he sympathized with the Nationalist cause afterall. He mourned the loss of life and opportunity of the men who organized the uprising, but he also recognized that a greater purpose existed. When great men like Yeats reflect on monumental events in history, it compells one to examine their own beliefs. His reactionary sentence, just seven words long, is so full of complexity and brings up so many questions. Yeats' quote provides a direct pathway to the mindset during the time of the rebellion, and helps to open a window to the past.

1 comment:

  1. Danielle, I was very happy to find your blog, for it helped bring into focus what Yeats' was saying in the line you quoted. You see, I happen to have an identical Yeats' autograph quotation, mine dating from 1920 when he visited the United States. I'd gladly send you a pic if you want.
    It seems to me that Yeats was saying that those who are willing to sacrifice their lives in pursuit of something they view as important may find they and their acts of sacrifice immortalized, inspiring others to take action.
    It brought to mind Yeats' description of the power of verse in this poem:

    Half close your eyelids, loosen your hair,
    And dream about the great and their pride;
    They have spoken against you everywhere,
    But weigh this song with the great and their pride;
    I made it out of a mouthful of air,
    Their children's children shall say they have lied.

    Another side of that same coin, however, is his poem "An Irish Airman Foresees His Death"

    I know that I shall meet my fate
    Somewhere among the clouds above;
    Those that I fight I do not hate,
    Those that I guard I do not love;
    My country is Kiltartan Cross,
    My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
    No likely end could bring them loss
    Or leave them happier than before.
    Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
    Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
    A lonely impulse of delight
    Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
    I balanced all, brought all to mind,
    The years to come seemed waste of breath,
    A waste of breath the years behind
    In balance with this life, this death.

    Thank you!
    Kind regards,
    Don Nunes

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