Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel and Fionn
McCumhail has precious little to do with the price of onions. You’re probably
never more Irish than when you’re stuck watching windscreen wipers on the
commute home, listening to Sean Moncrieff. But if someone were to ask you what
it means to be Irish you might not say that. The idea of a national identity is something
we probably only encounter at the match, when some local band makes it big
abroad or when we slate ourselves over how little we protest compared to
elsewhere. In other words, it’s only really when we’re set beside another
country that we see what makes us different. Our national identity for almost
the last hundred odd years is the story of us differentiating ourselves from
another country and no one had more say in that than the poet WB Yeats, who
celebrates his 150th Birthday this year.
Different people
take different things from the old stories. Cuchulainn has appeared in
everything from the Guardians of the Galaxy comic book to Final Fantasy video
games. The Táin has been illustrated by Louis Le Brocquy and re-told by Thomas
Kinsella and Ciaran Carson, not to mention the album by Horselips. It’s the
same way you’d explain to a tourist how Fionn McMuchaill built the Giant’s
Causeway. These stories are still alive in strange and sometimes very modern
ways. The phrase; ‘let me sing you the song of my people’ is an internet meme
some long time now but, to paraphrase Voltaire, if there wasn’t any song any more,
it would be necessary to invent one. While we all know Yeat’s role in this, the
thing people don’t tend to talk about too much is what a singularly strange man
he actually was, even among poets. Yeats had this
massive role to play in what Ireland means and perhaps the largest influence on
him came from the occult, which is something often briefly touched on but never
really discussed. This is
interesting because without this unusual obsession he would probably never have
achieved what he did. It was the combination of all three of his obsessions:
nationalism, poetry and the occult that lead him to playing the role he did in
defining how we thought of ourselves as a culture.
It was in 1884 that Yeats read a book called The Occult World by AP Sinnett. The book aimed to introduce Theosophy to
Europe from the East and pretty much right away Yeats became convinced of the
reality of this aspect of the occult and in particular of the teachings of one Helena
Blavatsky. Blavatsky was a world famous mystic who had founded the Theosophical
Society based on what were up till then secret Indian and Tibetan teachings. Theosophy
is an esoteric pursuit which places a single, divine, universal mind operating
behind all teachings and cultures and determining all events, all of which an
adept much work to uncover for himself. “The mystical world is the centre of
all I do and all I think and all I write”, Yeats wrote in 1894. It seemed it
was maybe a little too much at the centre of things for him. Yeats was eventually
excommunicated from the Theosophical Society by Blavatsky for taking part in
practical experiments, something strictly forbidden. As a reaction to that, his
next move was to join up with a group called The Order of the Golden Dawn, a
much more hands-on mystic sect which numbered among its ranks Aleister Crowley,
probably history’s most famous Satanist. This group encouraged members to actively
experiment in order to demonstrate their power over the material universe and
Yeats experimented freely on his friends and acquaintances, writing of having
undergone some pretty shocking visions. The thing about all of this is how
often throughout his life he mentions this kind of thing as a chief influence
on this thought. Thankfully it wasn’t the only one.
Around
the same time, Yeats became one of the followers of Douglas Hyde’s Gaelic
League. The league strove for the De-Anglicisation of Irish culture and the
promotion of a national Celtic identity. Yeats thought the best way to do this
was to write the old stories of the Irish people, but in English, the language
in which, he said “modern Ireland thinks and does its business”. According to
Yeats, folk art "is indeed the oldest of the aristocracies of thought ...
it is the soil where all great art is rooted." Combining this belief with his
fascination with the occult led to Yeats focusing on the supernatural aspects
of Irish folk life, in contrast with many other writers of the time. Clearly
still under the influence of the Theosophists, Yeats continued to announce
things like: “The fairies are the lesser spiritual moods of the universal mind,
wherein every mood is a soul and every thought is a body." Yeats devoted
the book Celtic Twilight to taking
this particular aspect of folklore and transforming it into poetry. His book Mythologies
delves deeper, incorporating his own visions of spirits, while at the same time
helping to establish him as the preeminent collector of Irish folklore.
To
say Yeats arrived at the national poetic agenda alone is a little unfair. There
were actually plenty of segmented little groups working away at the cause. One such group was called the Young Irelanders;
Thomas Davis, John Blake Dillon and Charles Gavan Duffy numbering among them, and
they worked hard at trying to promote national poetry through the romantic
ballad, which they saw as the supreme form of public art. These were not the
songs of the people, but instead more of a high-brow invention, intended more for
the parlours and the salons. Yeats was introduced to the Young Irelanders and
their books by the revolutionary John O’Leary and by that time their aim was
not just national ballads, but to encourage a national identity, unifying the
country behind a single cultural idea. Yeats straight away realised that these
men weren’t anything like great poets and seemed to believe a lot of things
contrary to his own views. In his lecture “Nationality and Literature”,
published in 1893, Yeats states that all national literature is maturing from
epic to lyrical, like a tree which “grows from unity to multiplicity, from
simplicity to complexity” A young nation, not yet fully formed and yet to achieve
national and cultural unity, is still at the epic stage. It’s the epic which
forms a unity and defines social structure, rather than the lyrical. Yeats saw
the epic legends as the ideal way to represent a fledgling social consciousness
as they are “made by no one man, but by the nation itself through a slow
process of modification and adaptation, to express its loves and its hates, its
likes and its dislikes.” Ancient art would be a unifying national force because
it speaks to the people’s unconscious identity. Yeats believed the way to
achieve this in modern times was to rekindle a relationship with the folk and
mythological themes with which, we know, he had a particular relationship.
It
was around then that Yeats began calling himself “The Celt” and put himself forward
as a kind of update on the traditional idea of the Celtic bard. Celts had
already been given a special place in the zeitgeist at that time by people like
Matthew Arnold, who, in a culture awash with dichotomies like
masculine/feminine, emotional /intellectual and natural /industrial, ascribed
to Celtic culture a feminine, natural and emotional character as opposed to the
masculine/ utilitarian Teuton, and within that Celtic culture, bards were a
kind of custodian of culture, knowledge and even prophesy. The thing was,
William Butler didn’t actually have any Celtic blood in him whatsoever. He came
from the middle class Protestant Ascendancy. To get around this, he rejected an
ethnic idea of the Celt and instead tapped into the idea of a hazier, cultural
ancestry, combining Theosophy and Paganism and claiming it as “the only true
religion of the Irish.”
What
you start seeing in Yeat’s poetry and plays from then on is a combination of
the heroic, the epic and the transcendental. There’s another world, another
condition to be achieved. I’ll stop here and flag the fact that this pretty
much the MO of every practicing religion since the dawn of time too, but there
are singular Theosophical elements you begin to notice emerging. The most
obvious example of his combining poetry, nationalism and the occult is the poem
“To Ireland in the Coming Times.”, written in 1892. After claiming his place in
a list of national poets, he continues to link Ireland’s past with what is to
come and highlights the role of art in this. Artists are the only ones who can
talk about “things discovered in the deep/where only body’s laid asleep” and
their work alone can bring about a supernatural world “For the elemental
creatures go/About my table to and fro,”.
The occult is mixed in with the mythological, pagan and artistic with
“elemental beings,” and “Faeries dancing under the moon/Druidic land, Druidic
tune.” The idea of Ireland as a mystical, other-worldly place, peaceful,
feminine, emotional and profoundly “Celtic”, far from the grinding, industrial
horrorshow of Europe, becomes a core theme in poems like ‘Lake Isle of
Innisfree’ and “Into the Twilight”. The
transcendence of the individual into this quasi-spiritual realm doesn’t only
mirror the nation transcending into freedom and cultural identity, but also the
transcendence of the world into a higher supernatural plane. Oisin venturing to
Tir Na N’og is another example, as is Cuchulainn’s Fight With The Sea.
As
he grew older, Yeats tried to distance himself a little from the pagan and
occult themes in his work, from the stories of automatic writing and the famous
séances, maybe after criticism from people like Auden, calling it “the
deplorable spectacle of a grown man obsessed with mumbo-jumbo of India.” I
happen to think it makes his work more interesting, more layered and if we
really are thinking of Yeats when we think of Irish Mythology and Irish culture
as a whole, asks more questions about the role the occult and Theosophy had to
play. Maybe Dan Brown could get a thriller out of it.
Alan Walsh.
If you enjoyed that, I've written a novel, Sour, retelling an old Irish myth as a modern murder story:
