William Butler Yeats' "The Tower II" and Iconic Realism

I took this photograph of Thoor Ballylee some years ago.

I pace upon the battlements and stare

On the foundations of a house, or where

Tree like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;

and send imagination forth

Under the day’s declining beam, and call

Images and memories

From ruin or from ancient trees,

For I would ask a question of them all.

(“The Tower II,” ll. 18-25) [1]

Here, Yeats places himself in the midst of the Tower, the earthen icon of the human soul. Born of the ancient source of all life, this soul’s power rests in the simplicity of a child’s voice, echoing for the “blind man’s joy.” This simplicity is so powerful that “certain men, be[come] maddened by those rhymes,” (l. 42) a magnificent union of the duality existent in imagination and reality. 

To further illustrate this duality, Yeats incorporates the iconic representation of “The Great Memory” to signify the reality of human consciousness. The speaker is out of control while at the same time, he is in control, “Come old, necessitous, half-mounted man;/And bring beauty’s blind rambling celebrant” (ll. 91-2). This ambivalence, accented with alliteration, leads to Yeats’ revelation that from chaos comes order and from dissonance, consonant harmony. He continues with his reference to human consciousness with an allusion to his recurrent swan’s song: “When the swan must fix his eye/ Upon a fading gleam, /Float out upon a long/Last reach of glistening stream/And there sing his last song” (ll. 141-45). 

The central theme of this poem is the realization of life’s paradox that art is both illusion and ideal. When Yeats reveals through the alliteration and rapid meter of “Man makes a superhuman/Mirror-resembling dream” (ll.165-66), he draws upon his references of the Easter Uprising and WWI in which reality of life recreates itself through the restructuring of chaos. 

Yeats’s iconic-bucolic imagery of singing birds in the introductory and concluding lines of “The Tower” reinforce his message of universal harmony that echoes throughout the sphere of life’s transformations. His final lines, “Seem but the clouds of the sky/When the horizon fades,/ Or a bird’s sleepy cry/ Among the deepening shades” (ll.193-96), indicate his reconciliation of life, art, Ireland and reality. It is not by accident that this poem leads directly to “Meditations in Time of Civil War.” 

In “The Tower,” Yeats illustrates the necessity for humanity to acknowledge the reality of life’s paradox and to nurture human consciousness with eyes wide open to human frailties as well as the glorious harmony present in one's creative endeavors.

The Tower

By William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939)

                               I

What shall I do with this absurdity—

O heart, O troubled heart—this caricature,

Decrepit age that has been tied to me

As to a dog's tail? 

Never had I more

Excited, passionate, fantastical

Imagination, nor an ear and eye

That more expected the impossible—

No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,

Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back

And had the livelong summer day to spend.

It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,

Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend

Until imagination, ear and eye,

Can be content with argument and deal

In abstract things; or be derided by

A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

                                II

I pace upon the battlements and stare

On the foundations of a house, or where

Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from earth;

And send imagination forth

Under the day's declining beam, and call

Images and memories

From ruin or from ancient trees,

For I would ask a question of them all.

 

Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once

When every silver candlestick or sconce

Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine,

A serving-man, that could divine

That most respected lady's every wish,

Ran and with the garden shears

Clipped an insolent farmer's ears

And brought them in a little covered dish.

 

Some few remembered still when I was young

A peasant girl commended by a song,

Who'd lived somewhere upon that rocky place,

And praised the colour of her face, 

And had the greater joy in praising her,

Remembering that, if walked she there,

Farmers jostled at the fair

So great a glory did the song confer.

 

And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,

Or else by toasting her a score of times,

Rose from the table and declared it right

To test their fancy by their sight;

But they mistook the brightness of the moon

For the prosaic light of day—

Music had driven their wits astray—

And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.

 

Strange, but the man who made the song was blind;

Yet, now I have considered it, I find

That nothing strange; the tragedy began

With Homer that was a blind man,

And Helen has all living hearts betrayed.

O may the moon and sunlight seem

One inextricable beam,

For if I triumph I must make men mad.

 

And I myself created Hanrahan

And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn

From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages.

Caught by an old man's juggleries

He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro

And had but broken knees for hire

And horrible splendour of desire;

I thought it all out twenty years ago:

 

Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;

And when that ancient ruffian's turn was on

He so bewitched the cards under his thumb

That all but the one card became

A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards,

And that he changed into a hare.

Hanrahan rose in frenzy there

And followed up those baying creatures towards—

 

O towards I have forgotten what—enough!

I must recall a man that neither love

Nor music nor an enemy's clipped ear

Could, he was so harried, cheer;

A figure that has grown so fabulous

There's not a neighbour left to say

When he finished his dog's day:

An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

 

Before that ruin came, for centuries, 

Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees

Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs, 

And certain men-at-arms there were

Whose images, in the Great Memory stored,

Come with loud cry and panting breast

To break upon a sleeper's rest

While their great wooden dice beat on the board.

 

As I would question all, come all who can;

Come old, necessitous, half-mounted man;

And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant;

The red man the juggler sent

Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,

Gifted with so fine an ear;

The man drowned in a bog's mire,

When mocking Muses chose the country wench.

 

Did all old men and women, rich and poor,

Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,

Whether in public or in secret rage

As I do now against old age?

But I have found an answer in those eyes

That are impatient to be gone;

Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,

For I need all his mighty memories.

 

Old lecher with a love on every wind,

Bring up out of that deep considering mind

All that you have discovered in the grave,

For it is certain that you have 

Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing

Plunge, lured by a softening eye,

Or by a touch or a sigh,

Into the labyrinth of another's being;

 

Does the imagination dwell the most

Upon a woman won or a woman lost?

If on the lost, admit you turned aside

From a great labyrinth out of pride,

Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought

Or anything called conscience once;

And that if memory recur, the sun's

Under eclipse and the day blotted out.

                                III

It is time that I wrote my will;

I choose upstanding men

That climb the streams until

The fountain leap, and at dawn

Drop their cast at the side

Of dripping stone; I declare

They shall inherit my pride,

The pride of people that were 

Bound neither to Cause nor to State, 

Neither to slaves that were spat on,

Nor to the tyrants that spat,

The people of Burke and of Grattan

That gave, though free to refuse—

Pride, like that of the morn, 

When the headlong light is loose,

Or that of the fabulous horn,

Or that of the sudden shower

When all streams are dry,

Or that of the hour

When the swan must fix his eye

Upon a fading gleam,

Float out upon a long

Last reach of glittering stream 

And there sing his last song.

And I declare my faith:

I mock Plotinus' thought

And cry in Plato's teeth,

Death and life were not

Till man made up the whole,

Made lock, stock and barrel

Out of his bitter soul, 

Aye, sun and moon and star, all, 

And further add to that

That, being dead, we rise, 

Dream and so create

Translunar Paradise.

I have prepared my peace

With learned Italian things

And the proud stones of Greece,

Poet's imaginings

And memories of love,

Memories of the words of women,

All those things whereof

Man makes a superhuman

Mirror-resembling dream.

 

As at the loophole there

The daws chatter and scream,

And drop twigs layer upon layer.

When they have mounted up, 

The mother bird will rest

On their hollow top,

And so warm her wild nest.

 

I leave both faith and pride

To young upstanding men

Climbing the mountain-side,

That under bursting dawn

They may drop a fly;

Being of that metal made

Till it was broken by

This sedentary trade.

 

Now shall I make my soul, 

Compelling it to study 

In a learned school

Till the wreck of body, 

Slow decay of blood,

Testy delirium

Or dull decrepitude,

Or what worse evil come—

The death of friends, or death

Of every brilliant eye

That made a catch in the breath—

Seem but the clouds of the sky 

When the horizon fades, 

Or a bird's sleepy cry 

Among the deepening shades.

[1] Yeats, William Butler. The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats. (Hertfordshire, G.B.: Wordsworth Editions, Ltd., 2000)


[2] Lakatos, Jeanne. The Theory of Iconic Realism: Understanding the Arts through Cultural Context. New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2008, pp. 54-55.

Sydney Owenson's "Lay of an Irish Harp," Politics, and Iconic Realism

Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) 

The cover photo of my book from New York Public Library

Excerpt from my paper, read at the Association for Franco-Irish Studies conference in Dublin, Ireland:

In her 1807 lyrical collection, Lay of an Irish Harp, Sydney Owenson uses the iconic imagery of a harp to scrutinize the resonating cry for enlightened human consciousness shortly after the Act of Union 1801 has been enforced. She illustrates the harmonics of human intellect surrounding the Irish message of perseverance in times of hardship and indignity suffered when human rights are ignored, using rhythmic structure within her poetics and iconic allusions through intricate semiotic fusion of philosophy and history. According to her memoirs, Owenson’s aspiration was as follows: 

...to make my native country better known, and to dissipate the political and religious prejudices that hindered its prosperity…Neither lovers, friends, nor flatterers, ever turned my attention from the steady, settled aim of my life-- and that was to advocate the interest of my country in my writings…        

When enlightenment merely reflects the ignorance of cultural bias, the abrasive consciousness of society suppresses creative exploration and moves into a mire of lost intentions and spiritual limitation. Owenson begins a personal quest to enlighten her contemporaries of a plausible if not impossible endeavour for the Irish and the British to maintain a semblance of harmony in Ireland. She uses the aural traditions of harp music and the power in lyrical structure to express innovative concepts through the traditional aural experiences of narratives and music.  Kate Bowan and Paul Pickering remark: 

Music is central to the formation of identities whether national, ethic, religious, or political as it can by virtue of being a social activity, include or exclude, and is open to countless reshaping and re-articulations in various contexts.

Thus, Owenson’s literary works demonstrate an iconic vision in the midst of dissonance, as she focuses her reading audience’s attention on discordant elements within nineteenth century Irish society that need transformation. 

Note: A 'lay' or 'lai' is a medieval lyrical poem. Some believe that the word 'lay' originates with the Old High German word, 'leich,' which means a play, melody, or song. 

A Brief Introduction of Semiotics, Linguistic Association, and Historicity

A good day for fishing!

From my book: The Theory of Iconic Realism, pp. 15-16:

The study of semiotics unravels the mystery behind symbolism associated with memory, language variations, and sign-signifier correlation as the human mind associates ideas with specific representations. Syntax deals with language as an expression of contextual, modal and residual elements of language, as well as a clear understanding of themes and rhemes. A thorough study of semantics observes ideational, interpersonal and textual components of language. Finally, pragmatics analyzes format of the communication base, interpreters of a language and function of that language in a community. Therefore, a comprehensive study of semiotics enables an audience to experience the intricacies of language in association with textual, musical, or artistic expression.  

Linguistic association begins with the historical perspective of a community revealed through a collective memory base, the societal and political history of a particular language. This includes the beliefs that accompany the historical development of a language. If there is any variation of a standard, sociolinguists consider this a ‘dialect’ of the language.  In other words, the varieties of the language associate with the historical and ethnic identities of those individuals within the speech community. 

Historicity employs the use of historical arguments in the form of validated facts, reinterpretations, inventions, or myth to support the authenticity and legitimate formation of the language variety’s autonomy as established through history. One's culture, including language, music, art, faith, and traditions all incorporate to form the historicity. 

Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible' and Iconic Realism

http://z.hubpages.com/u/234410_f260.jpg

From my book: 

In Arthur Miller’s play, The Crucible, characterization takes place within the parameters of a seventeenth century New England village. Yet, the message that Miller is sending to his audience parallels the political ramifications of the anti-communist hearings in 1951 United States, when fear of communism heavily influenced the psychological landscape. He creates a series of events that illustrate iconic realism through his use of lighting, characterization and dialogue. As each member of the town accused of witchcraft is called to trial, the lighting and stage presence illuminates the audience to the author’s intention. Written in 1953, shortly after the anti-communist hearings, known as the House Committee on Un-American Activities,[1] each character could depict some facet of the House Committee’s representation, for actions by the House committee resembled those of the drama’s magistrates. 

 

The setting of the play is a seventeenth century New England village, during a time when actual witch hunts did take place. Miller admits to changing a few names and facts regarding the characters, “This play is not history in the sense in which the word is used by the academic historian… However... the reader will discover here the essential nature of one of the strangest...chapters in human history.”[2] Thus, Miller chooses a tale of human interaction to demonstrate his sincere concern for the cultural future and freedom of speech within the United States and humanity in general.

I wonder... Have some current politicians and media personnel read this play?  Somehow, I think not. 

---

[1] Carr, Robert K. “The Un-American Committee.” The University of Chicago Law Review. 18.3 (Spring, 1951) 598-633.

[2] Miller, Arthur. The Crucible. (New York: Penguin Books, 1976) 2.

James Joyce's Ulysses: Breathing in Natural and New Laws

Often, individuals perceive the world in terms of various human laws and semantic representations established by the community. These laws or rules of thought have been the subject of many philosophers throughout history. One such philosopher was Thomas Aquinas, who described differences between natural law and new law, represented by Christ. 

Dr. Taylor Marshall, who devoted his doctoral dissertation to Thomas Aquinas’ philosophical approach to such laws, states: 

"Natural law is not the same as ‘laws of nature’ such as gravity. Natural law is an inward inclination toward the good and the avoidance of evil. It is a natural operating system. Thomas [Aquinas] explicitly teaches it is not chiefly a set of moral commandments. Rather it is an inclination humans have toward the good." (43)

Dr. Marshall continues with his discussion of Natural Law versus Thomas Aquinas’ interpretation of New Law in which he states: 

The New Law of the Gospel fulfills what is lacking in the natural law. It is required that every Christian seek to prayerfully persuade every man and woman on Earth to enter into the New Law of Christ.” (44) 

In his novel, Ulysses, James Joyce illustrates the manner in which human beings manage these laws, both Natural and New, as he weaves in and out of Leopold Bloom’s odyssey as if he were a spirit, acknowledging the human frailties and the responsibilities that many leave deposited along the wayside of their life’s journeys. He utilizes Bloom’s adventure to reveal this spiritual arc to the reader through a combination of language, human interactions, and observations.

As a reader of Joyce’s Ulysses inhales and exhales this linguistic masterpiece, an opportunity exists to affect change in the reader’s consciousness and perhaps even in one’s own community. Through his configuration of various linguistic and literary styles to illustrate various societal constraints, Joyce presents his reading audience with views of his own cognitive dissonance, represented as the other through Leopold Bloom, as well as the distinction between the Irish consciousness and that of other countries in Europe during the first world war years. 

Joyce releases his own constraints and embraces the possibilities associated with challenging stereotypes, linguistic barriers, and cultural standards. He creates his own version of Nature and New Laws. His extensive references to elitist whims within this novel contribute to the iconic intricacies of dissonant cultures existing in the midst of a torn tapestry of Dublin and Europe as the people deal with the post and pre- world wars. Indeed, Joyce’s use of iconic realism throughout his novel, Ulysses, creates an awareness of the need for cultural change.

Marshall, Taylor, Ph.D., Thomas Aquinas in Fifty Pages, Electronic Copyright, Texas, U.S.A., 2013.