12/06/2020
William Butler Yeats was born on this day, 13 June 1865 in Sandymount, Dublin. He was one of the foremost figures of 20th century literature right up until his death in 1939.
Although he lived in London for 14 years of his childhood, he staunchly affirmed his Irish nationality and maintained his cultural roots, featuring Irish legends and heroes in many of his poems and plays. Perhaps no other poet stood to represent a people and country as poignantly as Yeats, both during and after his life.
He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923, and the citation read “for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation”. His reply to the many people who wrote letters of congratulation to him contained the words “I consider that this honour has come to me less as an individual than as a representative of Irish literature; it is part of Europe’s welcome to the Free State”.
Some of his most famous poems include The Lake Isle of Innisfree, An Irish Airman Foresees his Death, The Stolen Child, The Sorrow of Love, Had I the Heaven’s Embroidered Cloths, The Wild Swans at Coole, When You are Old, Under Ben Bulben and Easter 1916.
One of his ancestors included a soldier who had fought for William of Orange at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690, and another relative was friends with the revolutionary Robert Emmet at the beginning of the 19th century. Yeats always reminded his readers that he was involved in both major ideologies of Irish political life which tore Ireland apart in the tumult and turmoil of the early years of the 20th century.
I was in Dublin for three days of commemorative events on the 100th anniversary of the 1916 Easter Rising. Among all the official posters and banners to mark the occasion, one had more prominence than any other, and it was the image of the seven executed signatories of the Proclamation of the Republic, accompanied by some of the most famous lines of poetry ever written or quoted in Ireland. Yeats’s poem “Easter 1916”, in the words of one of his most eminent biographers, Professor Roy Foster, “showed his uncanny sense of history as it happened around him, as well as what his wife described as his astonishing ability to know how things would look to people afterwards”. This immortal poem, and these lines from it, will surely echo down the centuries:
"I write it out in a verse—
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born."
He was instrumental in the Irish cultural revival and in 1904 was also a founder member of the Abbey Theatre in Dublin, whose manifesto was written by him: We hope to find in Ireland an uncorrupted and imaginative audience trained to listen by its passion for oratory ... and that freedom to experiment which is not found in the theatres of England, and without which no new movement in art or literature can succeed”. In short he wanted this new theatre to produce works written by Irish writers for an Irish audience. In this he succeeded.
His personal life was famously fraught, especially with his passionate and mostly unrequited love for the Irish revolutionary and activist, Maud Gonne, an English-born Irish republican, revolutionary, suffragette and actress and regarded as one of the most beautiful women of her time. At the age of 51 Yeats married the much younger Georgie Hyde-Lees and he went on to have a happy marriage and two children were born from their union.
When Ireland won its independence, Yeats became a senator in the new Irish Free State.
Yeats had an abiding love for Co Sligo, his mother’s home county and he wrote many poems about the area which is now known as “Yeats Country”.
He died in France in 1939, aged 73. In 1948, with the Irish government’s enthusiastic collaboration, the poet’s remains were taken to Ireland in an Irish navy warship and interred at the small Church of Ireland church at Drumcliffe, Co Sligo where his grandfather had once been rector. He wrote his own epitaph with the famous lines:
Cast a cold eye
On life, on Death.
Horseman, pass by.