Two of W. B. Yeats‘ poems, “The Choice” (1932) and “What Then?” (1937), describe some of his feelings about his life’s work. They tell of an old man’s struggle to understand the worthiness of his choice of lifestyles. Both seem permeated by a slight regret that other avenues were not pursued, that dedicating one’s life to creating art cannot be fulfilling. The two poems propose the paradox of popularity: that to create much-admired art and to be considered great will never be enough to satisfy. There will always be those left wanting and those that do not see the value in one’s accomplishments. The artist will never be finished, will always hunger for impossible closure. In the second poem, though, Yeats was able to depict a solution to the paradox.
Closure’s impossibility is the dominating theme of “The Choice”. This poem crystallizes the haunting angst Yeats felt concerning his decision to write poetry. He dedicated his entire self to the perfection of his work instead of trying to attain happiness in life, and he wondered if he had made the correct choice. The poem remarks on the paradox of popularity, for Yeats could not see the possibility of both stability, in the form of a “full purse,” and satisfaction in his art, “the day’s vanity.”
One of three intriguing questions this poem introduces is why Yeats would assume the importance of material wealth. Another is his apparent belief in the mutually exclusive nature of perfection in work and perfection in life. The third is his idea that poetic fame is coupled with nights of remorse. These three points combine to paint a picture of a man plagued by a fear that he has chosen unwisely. The displacement of the blame from heart to “intellect” also seems to display a desire to not take responsibility for the choosing.1
Yeats’ choice of the word “or” as a conjunction between the possibility of not having “an empty purse” and enjoying (?) “the day’s vanity” places the two on equal planes. It is hard to imagine a character such as Yeats believing that material wealth, or vanity-inducing fame, is of much significance. He was most probably satirizing the still widely-accepted importance given to the two. This makes sense because the line, “When all that story’s finished, what’s the news?” implies that neither is very much of an honorable goal in life. The inherently ephemeral quality of “news” makes it difficult to hold in very high esteem. Calling the situation a “perplexity” also alludes to its simultaneously paradoxical and purposeless nature. Its purposelessness is exhibited in the “mark” it leaves on the chooser.
Why Yeats felt forced to choose between perfection in life or perfection of work is a mystery. There are at least as many examples of artists who achieved both as there are examples of artists who had neither.2 One can only assume that he was postulating on the inability to have a wealth of experiences from which to draw poetic ideas if one has had a uniformly “perfect” life. It is easy to agree3 that the majority of famous poets have written about sorrow, unrequited love, and loss. One would be hard-pressed to find a poet who wrote exclusively about the joys of life. (It is also an interesting theory that it could be the process of becoming an admired poet which is itself disheartening.) It could also be argued that writing poetry is so absorbing and toiling that it precludes living a “normal” life. The true reason Yeats felt that he was forced to choose is unknowable.
Just as Yeats used the word “or” to equalize wealth and vanity, he used a comma to show the attachment of a “day’s vanity” and a “night’s remorse.” By placing the opposites of night and day on the same line, separated merely by the pausing comma, Yeats examined the connection of the two. His idea that poetic fame is coupled with nights of remorse is shown, but not explained. It must be that the “day’s vanity” is a direct consequence of choosing perfection in work, but why does that lead to nights of remorse?4 One would assume that the former would lead to the latter, but Yeats believed otherwise. He didn’t include his reasoning but it can be inferred that just as a life of useful poetic material is necessarily devoid of perfection, so must that life be full of remorse. “The Choice” leaves a reader sensing Yeats’ consuming unhappiness and his inability to accept responsibility for his life choices. But if this is the case, what then is left to be gained from being a poet?
In the poem “What Then?” published five years after “The Choice”, Yeats answered the question. In it he again spoke of toil and perfection. This poem’s utilization of the remarks of Plato’s ghost is one of Yeats’ choices which made it darker and more desperate than the earlier work. The stark contrast between the good-natured quality of the verse and the haunting of the ghost’s italicized lines, as well as the very title of the poem, also create an ominous sense of despair at the beginning of the work.5 It is obvious that Yeats felt that he had worked with much effort to become the poet he was. His lack of satisfaction, the aforementioned impossibility of closure, is evident in the repeated words of Plato’s ghost. The poem gives insight into Yeats’ conflicting feelings about choosing the life of a poet over other, possibly more fulfilling, lifestyles.
“What Then?” is in some ways an expanded version of “The Choice”. The first two verses are about the difficulty of creating poetry, the forced decision to be a poet, and the fame garnered from doing so. The third verse is concerned with the somehow6 meaninglessness of these achievements. But unlike “The Choice”, in which Yeats left the reader with nights of remorse, this poem concludes in a sort of acceptance, a combination of diluted rage and plea.
The schoolmates with whom the piece begins who, through their belief in Yeats’ ability, made his choice for him, shed light on his problem of decision-making mentioned in the previous poem. To have claimed that “all his twenties” were “crammed with toil” makes a reader pity the poet and his sad situation. The “twenties” are traditionally not considered the age in which a youth should be pressed to toil, apparently unhappily. These schoolmates also joined Plato’s ghost in placing on Yeats the pressure felt by the artist to create poetry, and the need to continue creating poetry, throughout his life. The second verse shoes that Yeats’ efforts were not in vain. One would imagine that, most importantly to a poet, “Everything he wrote was read.” The fame and friends (?) of these first two verses filled the same perceived void as “his happier dreams” which came true because of his labor.
The third verse’s litany of “his happier dreams” minimizes their importance, however; his reeling them off, as from a patterned list of expected happiness, makes them appear less than meaningful to him. This technique also emphasizes the pleading of Plato’s ghost immediately following it. The ghost can be seen as Yeats’ conscience,7 continually wanting more from the toiling poet. Even after all his “happier” dreams came true (which forces one to ponder about what his other dreams are centered…) he was still forced to endure the singing of Plato’s incessant ghost. Regardless of how much he completed, the process of creation would never be finished. “What then?” the ghost again asked, exemplifying the imagined futility of these accomplishments.
The last verse is a Rorschach test for readers. It can be read in a few differing fashions. There is the idea that Yeats could have been complacently contemplating how his life had run its course. He could have been begging Plato’s ghost to leave him alone, to realize that the poet had been faithful to his decision to be an artist. Yeats could have been laughing at, in retrospect, how ineffectual his unswerving perfection had turned out to be. Another possibility is that Yeats was raging against the ghost, and his life, that he did all that could have been expected of him. In such an interpretation the ghost’s voice, which at the end of the poem has lost its identity, is seen pleading with a mature and bitter Yeats. The ghost’s voice’s triumph in having the last word is a hollow one at best because by that point Yeats had managed to rob that ghost of responsibility by taking it himself.
In his final pseudo-argument with the ghost, Yeats valorized his “choice” by claiming it was his “boyish plan” to be a poet, and he was simply not led by the stimulations of the ghost, friends, or family. “Let the fools rage,” he wrote, “I swerved in nought,” implying that he had done all that could have been expected of him. By taking responsibility for his “choice” Yeats managed to provide a solution to the paradox of popularity. Though the masses will never be satisfied, will always want to see an artist improve upon the previous, if an artist can come to a resolution with himself and with his ghosts, he can find gratification.
“What Then?” and “The Choice” are both poems in which Yeats dealt with his own emotions concerning his life’s course. The main difference between the two works is the emotion with which the reader is left. In “The Choice” there is no hope in sight, the poet has been cursed to rage in the dark. He has only the day’s vanity and the night’s remorse. But the poet in “What Then?” has managed to come to terms with his identity. He is no longer hopeless, but can enjoy the perfection he has wrought.
Rosenthal, M.L. (ed.), Selected Poems and Three Plays of William Butler Yeats., Macmillan Publishing Co., New York, N.Y. 1986
Notes from my professor:
1 I don’t see why this would suggest an avoidance of responsibility; it is his intellect that is doing the choosing. On the other hand, the idea of being “forced” to make a choice might be seen as diminishing his responsibility somewhat.
2 Can you name a few? Yeats may be exaggerating, but it’s easy to think of unhappy artists, not as easy to think of happy ones.
3 This is really what he’s thinking of.
4 Couldn’t it just be remorse for having given up one perfection by choosing the other?
5 good
6 felt
7 Interesting idea.
A- Interesting comparison. I agree for the most part with your coloring contrast — “The Choice” certainly seems to have a much more bitter tone than “What Then?” I’m not sure the second poem is finally as hopeful as you seem to be saying, though, because it’s hard to overlook the effect of the refrain. You describe it wisely as “haunting” the poet’s consciousness, and to have it not just repeated, but louder at the end could mean that the doubts are still there in the back of the successful man’s mind — this seems, anyway, to be the most obvious and natural way to interpret it. You’re certainly right, I think, in seeing his second poem as more complex in its development.
“The Choice” is really boiled down to an epigram, while the other suggests its meaning more delicately.
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Now, where’s the Hardy paper?