William Butler Yeats's The Words upon the Window-Pane explores the intriguing theme of the past intricately woven into the fabric of the present. This theme, pervasive in Yeats’s poetry and plays, is particularly potent as it reflects how Ireland's history is embedded in the lives of its modern inhabitants. Through this narrative lens, Yeats delves into several other motifs, notably his personal confrontation with the encroachments of old age. Simultaneously, the work grapples with the perennial tension between reason and passion, elements that Yeats seeks to reconcile within himself as much as in his characters. The intermingling of these themes not only underscores the weight of historical legacy but also highlights the internal struggles mirrored in broader cultural narratives.

Nestled within the confines of a mundane Dublin boardinghouse, the setting of the play serves as a microcosm of contemporary life, highlighting both the ordinary and the absurd. This unremarkable environment reflects the trivial existence often observed in modern Ireland. Characters like Patterson, a hapless horseplayer, and Johnson, a slightly unhinged evangelist, embody the coarse reality of this world. Even Mrs. Henderson, the medium, with her banal bourgeois demeanor, adds to the tapestry of tawdriness that defines modern humanity. In stark contrast, Yeats suggests that amidst this backdrop of mediocrity, moments of "passionate intensity" can transcend even the finality of death, infusing the narrative with a sense of enduring vitality.

The tragedy of Jonathan Swift, marked by his rejection of the women who cherished him and the collapse of his envisioned utopia, possesses a raw authenticity that exposes the superficiality of the lives of those gathered for a séance. This profound historical drama, while deeply affecting the attendees, leaves them in a state of confusion. Some, like Corbet, leave with a skewed understanding of the events they have witnessed. For the playwright Yeats, such is the inevitable condition of modern humanity, trapped in the twentieth century’s myopic view.

Yeats suggests that these individuals are unable to grasp the spirit that courses through history, blinded as they are by their own trivial desires and self-centered concerns. Engulfed in their own lives, they fail to acknowledge the larger truths that the past holds, truths that could offer insights into the human condition. The séance, meant to bridge the divide between past and present, instead highlights the participants' incapacity to transcend their limited perspectives.

This blindness to historical spirit reflects a broader commentary on modern society, where the capacity to understand and empathize with the past is overshadowed by immediate, often insignificant, personal interests. Thus, the tragedy of Swift serves as a mirror, revealing the stark contrast between profound historical truths and the shallow perceptions of contemporary individuals.

Jonathan Swift stands as a haunting presence, embodying both personal despair and a broader societal critique. His intense confrontation with his inner turmoil not only enlivens the specter of his own mortality but also casts the lives of the living into a shadowy realm. Swift's rejection of Stella and Vanessa is emblematic of his broader repudiation of humanity. As Corbet explains to Mrs. Henderson, Swift was "the chief representative of the intellect of his epoch," epitomizing a form of reason finally liberated from superstition. Yet, with his foresight, Swift predicted the impending collapse of rational thought, foreseeing a chaotic array of muddled worldviews that his living contemporaries bring to the séance. His horror at this future is tangible, expressed in his reluctance to propagate what he considered the flawed lineage of humanity. "Am I," he questions Vanessa, "to add another to the healthy rascaldom and knavery of the world?"

This profound intersection...

In his interaction with Stella, Swift wishes to bequeath to future generations nothing but the intellect he believes was divinely bestowed upon him. This aspiration resonates with themes explored by Yeats in his poetry during the same era, notably "Sailing to Byzantium" (1927) and "The Circus Animals’ Desertion" (1939). Yeats, confronting what he perceived as the political shortcomings of Ireland alongside his growing self-doubt in the twilight of his years, envisioned an intellectual transcendence—a realm where "monuments of unageing intellect" could be discovered and revered.

Amidst the swirling debates of the séance participants, who represent a disenchanted modern Ireland, Yeats introduces a contrasting vision through Jonathan Swift. In a dialogue with Stella, Swift’s personal uncertainties are poetically redeemed by her evocative words, etched onto the window-pane. Stella observes Swift’s aging, remarking that "a beauteous mind repairs / The loss of chang’d or falling hairs; / How wit and virtue from within / Can spread a smoothness o’er the skin." Her poem emphasizes the enduring power of intellect and virtue to transcend the physical decline of the body, suggesting a deeper, spiritual rejuvenation.

Yeats juxtaposes this idea of transcendence with the superficial concerns of the séance attendees, highlighting Swift’s and his own conviction in the transformative potential of the spirit. Here, the intellect is not confined by the temporal body but is elevated through a connection with the spirit, offering a path to a higher, more profound understanding of existence. This belief underscores a historical and bodily transcendence, where reason is metamorphosed through an ethereal, almost mystical, journey beyond the limitations of the material world.