In the Seven Woods

I might be completely misreading this, but “The Folly of Being Comforted” seems to reflect the tension Yeats had with his father; or at least his father’s generation. The “one that is ever kind” has a paternal element to his voice. He tells the narrator “though now it seems impossible, and so/All that you need is patient.” Ellman describes a senior Yeats as loving but abrasive towards Yeats’ inner beliefs – particularly his Christian faith.

The “kind one’s” voice seems pragmatic and perhaps atheist. He matter-of-factly reminds the narrator about old age and death and urges him to take comfort in the wisdom that comes with frailty. The narrator objects for strange, evasive reasons. His defiance is adolescent and disorganized. He seems to want the other to be wrong more than he can demonstrate that he is wrong.

Interestingly, the narrator does not contradict the other out loud. It is “Heart” that speaks against the “folly of comfort”, implying that this is an internal and silent retort. I can picture Yeats’ father talking down to him and young Yeats saying nothing though he fiercely disagrees.

Of course it’s unlikely that Yeats’ sole intention is to express his frustration with his father. But he might be drawing from his own experiences as he constructs these two characters.

“The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water” also seems to emphasize generational divides. The oldness of the men is their most prominent feature. It warrants the doubling of the word “old. Their oldness is violent and ugly. They have claws and “their knees were twisted like the old thorn-trees”. The short poem manages to be more complex than a crack at the elderly. It is saddening to hear them bemoan their contingency. This delicate contradiction reminds me of Yeats’ indecision in Ellman’s account. He strongly opposed his father’s atheism and prayed every day. Inexplicably, however, Yeats would often defend atheist ideas from students and friends in debate. Yeats seems similarly torn in this poem between identifying with the old men and caricaturing them.

Early Yeats and Irish History

The "Very Brief and Basic History of Ireland" is an exhaustive learn-the-kings account of the Irish past. There aren't many broad insights to draw from it except that this nation was done serious wrong. A persistent pattern emerges by the half-way mark where the Irish seem to secure their dignity only to have it dashed from their hands. The story of Ireland is the story of Sisyphus, the king in hell who heaved boulders to the top of a hill only to have it crash back down to the ground.
The account imbues the native Irish with a striking tenacity. Over and over they battle the English, the French and others for their freedom. In the 19th century organizations for a democratic Ireland emerge on the back of America's ideals for independence. Thankfully the Irish finally gain their sovereignty after centuries of dominion and molestation.

"Politics of Irish Literature" is a more interesting read, discussing the more emotive and subjective impact history had on Ireland's writers. Yeats, it turns out, was the poetic voice for Young Ireland, one of the 19th century more militant factions for democracy. It's leader O'Leary was a mentor of sorts for Yeats. But it seems like Yeats was also a mentor for Ireland. His early work vindicated revolutionary thought and sustained the Irish nationality. He actively sought talent in his homeland and built a coalition of Irish writers.
But Yeats' loving relationship with Ireland was short-lived. He considered himself a poet before a member of Young Ireland and as his poetry emigrated from the cause for Irish freedom his criticism of O'Leary became increasingly harsh. Other Irish writers followed suit; there was more to Irish literature than politics and revolution.
The backlash against the Irish literary community lasted well into the 20th century. Irish works were treated with cynicism and disdain by popular publishing companies. One of the more prominent paradoxes illuminated in Brown's paper is the absurd skepticism with which the Irish people treated their own literary geniuses.

Yeats' growing reluctance to confine his art to the Young Ireland movement is pretty evident in "The Madness of King Goll". The king tells of a time when he ruled absolutely and righteously. Wise men said of the king, "He drives away the Northern cold", a reference to the scourge of Great Britain. The king fiercely defeats his enemies in the name of his people only to be possessed by "a whirling and a wandering fire" which compels him to turn away from war and surround himself with the world's natural beauty. It's easy, given Brown's paper, to see King Goll as a surrogate Yeats; who obeys an internal calling to give up violent aims in pursuit of the pure.

"The Ballad of Moll Magee" doesn't convey this idea nearly as well. But the struggle between poet and political movement is still here. Where Magee has lost a child, Yeats has lost a nation. Her attempt at sympathy from a stranger ends in jeers. Yeats may have been inspired by his own rejection by the people he championed. Although, I think it might have been written before he was widely criticized.

"To an Isle in the Water" is a love poem that has little to do with Young Ireland. However, it contains the same admiration for the poor and weak. The coveted woman is defined by her meekness and her servitude. The isle itself suggests an escapist attitude towards Ireland. Yeats seems ready to abandon his country for love.

Yeats parts with civilization once again in "The Lake Isle of Innisfree". This time he is tempted not by "a whirling and wandering fire". On the lake he doesn't not seek exhilaration, but peace. Yeats emphasizes the time scale of nature. "Peace comes dropping slow", he says. "...always night and day/I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore". The peace he seeks is slow and consistent. Yeats is rejecting his revolutionary past here not merely for the beautiful, but the eternal.

In "Who Goes With Fergus?", Yeats approaches that eternity more directly. He calls on the youth to embrace the quiet corners of the world as sanctuaries, not dark mysteries. The unanswered call "who will go drive with Fergus now?" implies a sad idea. Yeats seems to believe, without wanting to say, that rest of the world might never heed his advice. His poetry seems to return to this alienating idea the more he grows as a poet.

I'm curious about the specific details of O'Leary's "mentoring" of Yeats. Which parts of Yeats work were the most inspiring to Young Ireland and organizations like it? It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly where Yeats is being a mouthpiece for a movement and when he is striving for a more universal poetic voice.

I'm also a little frustrated with "The Man who dreamed of Faeryland". Nature seems to be the enemy in this poem, at least to the "man". How did Yeats square this sentiment with his poems that find fulfillment in the natural world? Is he actually changing his mind? Or is there something specific about the man that I'm missing that justifies this conflict?