John B. Yeats
SIR,—In your review, by Mr. St. John Ervine, of Professor Ellmann's book on Yeats, there appears a thumbnail estimate of John B. Yeats, the poet's father, so false and virulent that I must ask you to allow me to make a short protest. I have not read Professor Ellmann's book, but I have read and often re-read a volume of John B. Yeats' letters to his son (the poet) and others, where anyone may see the abundant refutation of Mr. Ervine's glib and coarse-grained sneer. For there can be found not only the golden record of a beautiful and mutually stimulating relationship of father and son, but also a pervading breadth and warmth of humanity, a profound and subtle sensibility.
As for his being " a thoroughly incompetent painter," I may now simply say that I regard him at least as the greatest painter that Ireland has produced—an opinion which I know is shared by Mr. Augustus John, Professor Bodkin and the late Sarah Purser, all of whom are far more familiar with his work than I am. Moreover he was the type of artist whose integrity was backed by a spiritual force that enabled him, like Titian, to continue the ascent right up to the end of eighty-two years.
His last picture is his best.—Yours faithfully, HENRY LAMB (B.A.). Coombe Bissett, Salisbury.
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