New-York tribune., 1918-04-07

I'm "The Bookman" for March Will
lam Lyon Phelps, pursuing his essay
on "The Advance of English Poetry
in the Twentieth Century," writes thus
of William Butler Yeats, the celebrated
Irish poet:
civilian Butler Yeats has done more for
English poetry than any other lrishman,
for he is the greatest poet in the English
language that Ireland has ever produced.
He is a notable figure in contemporary lit
erature, having made additions to verse,
prose and stage plays. He has by no means
obliterated Clarence Mangan, but he has
surpassed him.
"Mr. Yeats was born in Dublin June 13,
1865. His father an honor man at
Trinity College, taking the highest distnc-
tion in political economy. After practising
law, he became painter, which profession
he still adorns. The future poet studied
art for three years, but when twenty-one
years old definitely devoted himself to li.-
eraturc. Apart from his original work, one
of his foremost services to humanity was
his advice to that strange genius, John
Synge-for it was owing to the influence cc
his friend that Synge became a creative
writer, and he had, alas! little time to lose.
"Mr. Yeats published his first poem in
1886. Since that date, despite his preoccu-
patton with the management of the Abbey
Theatre, he has produced long list Of
works in verse and prose, decidedly unequal
in merit, but shining with the light of
luminous mind. .
HE ROM the first, Mr. Yeats has seemed
Il to realize that he could serve Ire
land best by making beautiful and endur-
ing works OF art, rather than by any forr,
of political agitation. This is wells for de-
spite the fact that total ineptitude for
craftsmanship seldom prevents the enthu
sast from issuing and spreading dogma.ic
propaganda, merely elementary concep-
ton of the principle of division of labor
should make US all rejoice when the artist
confines himself to art. True artists are
scarce and precious: and although practical
men of business often regard them as super
Huous luxuries. the truth is that we cannot
live without them. AS poet and dramatie+
Mr.. Yeats has done more for his country
than he could have accomplished in anv
other way.
Never was there more exclusively an
artist. lie writes pure not applied poetry
| care little for his theories of symbolism
magic and what not. Poets are JUDGED not
by their theories. not by the Schools to
which they give passionate adherence. bat
simply and solely by the quality OF their
work. No amount of theory, no correctness
of method, no setting UP Of new or defence
Of old standards, no elevated ideals can
make poet if he have not the divine gift.
Theories have hardly more effect on the
actual value of his poetry than the color
OF the ink in which he writes. The reason
why 1t is interesting to read what NJ.
Yeats says about his love Of magic and cf
symbols is not because there is any truth
or falschood in these will % thc-wisps. but
because he is such an artist that even when
he writes in prose his style is so beautiful.
so harmonious that one is forced to listen.
Literary art has enormous power in pro-
pelling a projectlc of thought do not
doubt that the chief reason for the immense
erect or such philosophy as that of Scho-
penhauer or that Of Nietzsche is because
each man was a literary artist-indeed I
think both were greater writer's than think
ers good thing this is for their fame.
Tor art lasts longer than thought The
1ashlon OF mans thought may pass away:
his knowledge and his ideas may lose their
stamp, either because they prove to be false
or because they become universally current.
Everybody believes Copernicus, but nobody
reads him. Yet when book. no matter
how obsolete in thought, is marked by great
beauty OF style, it lives forever. Consider
the case Of Sir Thomas Browne Art is the
great preservative.
GMR R. YEATS has a genius for names
1vA and titles. His names, like those
Of Rosetti's, ere sweet symphonies The
Wind Among the Reeds. The Shadow
Waters, The Secret Rose The Land of
Hearts Desire, The Island of Statues are
poems in themselves, and give separate
pleasure like an overture without the opera.
Perhaps it is not too fanciful to observe
that The Wind Among the Reeds suggests
better than any other arrangement of words
the lovely minor melodies Of ou~ poet.
while TIE Shadowy Waters gives exactly
the picture that comes into ones mind n
thinking of his poems. There is an extra.
ordinary tluidity in his verse, Ike running
water under the shade of overhanein.,
branches. One feels that Mr.. Yeats loves
these titles. and chooses them with affcc-
tionate solicitude like father naming
beautiful children.
The love poetry Of Mr. Yeats. like the
love poetry of Poe is swept with passion.
but the passion is mingled with unuttora-