The Windhover
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Hopkins to Bridges, May 31, 1879:

I shall shortly send you an amended copy of The Windhover; the amendment only touches a single line, I think, but as that is the best thing I ever wrote. I should like you to have it in its best form.


To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, king- 
    dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-d'awn-drawn Falcon, in his riding 
    Of the r'olling level 'undern'eath him steady 'air, & str'iding 
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, 
    As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl & gliding 
    Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding 
Stirred for a bird, - the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty & valour & act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
    Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion 
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, o my chevalier! 

No w'onder of it: sh'eer pl'od makes pl'ough down s'illion 
    Shine, & blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, 
Fall, g'all thems'elves, & g'ash g'old-verm'ilion.

1877-9 

The Windhover is no doubt the central text in Hopkins . This opinion was voiced by I.A. Richards in 1926 [2] and supported since by a host of critics. John Pick wittily uses a quotation from this poem to call it “the achieve of, the mastery of the thing,” and Reds that the poem is “the greatest of Hopkins ’s poems of this (1877 – 1878) period, greatest in the implications of its subjects, greatest in its metrical accomplishment”[3]. Marshall McLuhan maintains that

  ... there is no other poem of comparable length in English, or perhaps in any language, which surpasses’ its richness and intensity or realised artistic organisation. There are two or three sonnets by Shakespeare … which might be put with Donne’s At the round earth’s for comparison and contrast with this sonnet. But they are not comparable with the range of experience and multiplicity of integrated perception which is found in The Windhover.[4]

Stanisław Barańczak describes the poem as “dazzling”[5] and F.R. Leavis insists in his study of this sonnet that Hopkins ’s skill as represented in this poem “is most unmistakably that of a great poet.”[6] This opinion is so widespread that The Windhover has become a veritable symbol of Hopkins .[7]

It is in this that the main ideas of Hopkins’s philosophy “buckle:” beauty in nature find beauty of Christ, aestheticism and asceticism, Pater and Loyola; Hopkins’s “nature poems” and “terrible sonnets” all pivot around these fourteen lines of sprung rhythm. This is why the sonnet retains its central place in the present study as well, being by far the most intensive example of the ascetic/aesthetic tension in Hopkins. Both outlooks meet here: the “brute beauty” of the bird is confronted with the beauty of Christ’s humility. Criticism on The Windhover is so extensive that a comprehensive summary of it could swallow up any study on Hopkins

There are however, some problems which are at once most often discussed and relevant for this work. They might be specified as 1. What is actually meant by the bird; and 2. What is the meaning of the sestet, with particular attention to the capitalised “AND” (l. 10). W.S. Johnson summarizes various interpretations of this poem:

…most commentators agree that the bird has at least three meanings: it is a real windhover, it represents Christ, and it comes to represent as well the man who would imitate Christ, possibly the poet himself.[8]  

Other readings suggest the falcon to be the symbol of the Christian knight, the ideal of the Jesuit priest. That the Windhover symbolizes the “mortal beauty” as opposed to the beauty of humility in Christ (as stated by Daiches[9]), is an interpretation most critics could agree to. 

A radical following of this dichotomy (as it will be shown, strictly in connection with the scope of the present study) yields, however, a reading slightly removed from the bulk of critical appraisal of The Windhover

Hopkins calls his bird “morning’s minion, kingdom of daylight’s dauphin.” This combination of titles is very much akin to the one to be found in the Bible: “Son of the Morning”[10] denotes the Devil, the Adversary, Lucifer (c.f. Lucifer is Latin for “bringer of light”). Such a “coincidence” provides an excellent opportunity to read The Windhover in a different manner. 

The beauty of the bird thus becomes exactly what Hopkins calls it: “brute.” It should be noted that in “The Windhover,” contrarily to his other works, Hopkins dwells at length on a single object, i.e. the bird, and its strength, agility, and speed (for a total of nine lines). These qualities of the bird of prey – which the kestrel, Falco tinnunculus, fundamentally is – remind one of Milton ’s Satan “hovering on wing”[11] and of the Adversary of the Book of Job, roaming around the world. Hopkins ’s falcon is not up in the air just to be admired. It is looking down for a kill - just as the Devil might be looking for a soul. The bird is beautiful, so beautiful that the observer’s “heart ... stirred:” but it did so “in hiding” – secretly. Who does not secretly admire the attractiveness of Evil, one may ask. This problem would be particularly acute in Hopkins . so susceptible to beauty, yet so scrupulous in faith.

The immediate counter-argument against such an interpretation could be the fact that in the context of Hopkins ’s entire oeuvre, the appearance of the Devil in The Windhover might seem to be not unlike a jack-in-a-box. In Hopkins , Nature is essentially good. His “world is charged with the grandeur of God.” Hopkins , often oscillating on the verge of pantheism (just as Wordsworth once did), seems to be, in spite of his Jesuit discipline, a greater enthusiast of Nature’s beauty than a good son of St. Ignatius should. Finally, throughout his work, no names of the Adversary appear - though “Angels fall,” he remarks in an unfinished poem of 1889. 

The above is essentially true, but not enough to banish the Devil from Hopkins ’s world altogether. It must be remembered that Hopkins is, perhaps more than any other poet of his time, deeply rooted in the medieval tradition - even more than his contemporary Pre-Raphaelites, whose debt to the Middle Ages consisted in form rather than philosophical matter. The crucial point here is that the medieval tradition differs from modern times in its acute awareness of the existence of the Devil and Hell. It is only later that the Satan “attained a great success by persuading everyone that he does not exist.” It seems that after Milton , no serious attention was paid to the Devil in English poetry. Newman, another major influence on Hopkins, accuses Victorian intellectuals of the belief that “Christianity, instead of fixing the main on the fair and the pleasant, intermingled other ideas with them of a sad and painful nature; … that it made the Soul tremble with the news of Purgatory and Hell.”[12] Thus, while an average Victorian intellectual night have been sceptical of the existence of the Devil, but not Hopkins, a student of theology, and a faithful follower of St. Ignatius Loyola.

Hopkins ’s allegiance to Loyola is perhaps the strongest point in favour of this interpretation of The Windhover. Critics generally agree that the sonnet is written under the primary influence of the Spiritual Exercises. For Ignatius, the existence of “the Evil One” is obvious. The Exercises include two entire chapters devoted to the “differentiation of spirits:” “It is usual for the evil angel taking the guise of the angel of light to begin together with a pious soul, and end in his own way; that is, he usually brings about thoughts good and holy, and then strives to reach his aim, drawing the soul in to his hidden traps and evil purposes.”[13]

It can be easily seen that the construction of The Windhover (studied below in more detail) in more follows the Ignatian pattern: the dazz1ing beauty of the first 1ines (ll. 1 - 8) “brute” in l. 9, and is contrasted with the beauty “a billion times… lovelier” of Christ. If the influence of medieval and Ignatian thinking on Hopkins, and especially on The Windhover, is elsewhere agreed upon, and never challenged, then all consequences of this must be recognized and studied – including also the awareness of the active existence of the Devil - strange as it may seem and might have seemed to both Victorian and 20th-century readers.

The final doubt concerning the existence of the Devil in Hopkins ’s work remains still to be discussed. It is true that the Devil is never directly referred to by Hopkins . Yet there is a marked awareness, if not of its personification, then of the Fall in general, in many of his poems. Man is trapped, Hopkins writes in The Wreck of the Deutschland, between “the frown on his (God’s) face” and “the hurtle of hell behind.” “It is the blight the man was born for.” The deterioration of the world is depicted in the otherwise hymnic God’s Grandeur: “All is seared with trade, bleared. smeared with toil.” In Spring, Hopkins enjoys the world before, in the inevitable sequence, “it cloy, before it cloud ( ... ) and sour with sinning.” The line “Fair have fallen” - which can easily be associated with the fall of the angels - opens another poem, and the poet can hear the roar of “A wilder beast from the West” in Andromeda.

But if there is the Devil in Hopkins’s work at all, he can be found in the “terrible” sonnets of 1885 especially in the one that, according to Bridges, Hopkins himself described as “written in blood” (Carrion Comfort) . “Carrion comfort, Despair,” which invokes an association with another and even more obviously sinister ominous bird, a vulture, is in its barrenness and cruelty full of a certain devilish nature. “It is the evil spirit that influences us in desolation,” maintains St. Ignatius. “If one … begins to fear, there is no other beast more keen than the Enemy … to persevere in the pursuit of his evil purpose.”[14] It is, however, the fact of temptation that is the main connection between the Devil and Despair. Similarly to a number of ardent believers (St. Francis being the best-known example), Hopkins must have experienced a particular period of temptation - in his case, by the “carrion comfort” in the first eight months of 1885. A truly hellish scene is described in No worst, there is none of the same year:

My cries heave, herds-long: huddle in a main, a chief
Woe, world sorrow; on an age-old anvil wince and sing –
Then lull, then leave off. Fury had shrieked ‘No ling-
ering! Let me be fell: force I must be brief.  

Hopkins ’s adversary here is no longer God, as in the earlier Carrion Comfort. The enemy is not named, but the influence of the Devil here is an arguable interpretation – the more so as the “symptoms” agree with Loyola’s definitions: “Desolation … is darkness of soul, disturbance in it, movement to things low and earthy, the disquiet of different agitations and temptations, moving to want of confidence, without hope, without love, when one finds oneself all lazy, tepid, sad, and as if separated from his Creator and Lord.”[15]

There seems to be an almost comic discrepancy between St. Ignatius’ abstract, mystical subject, and his methods in Spiritual Exercises,,” full of matter-of-factness and simple, arbitrary rules. In the light of the above, a link can be seen between the sonnets of desolation of 1885 and the “central” sonnet of 1877. The indirect realisation of the Devil’s existence in the world (The Windhover) and in man’s mind (Carrion Comfort), provides a new depth to both Hopkins’s oeuvre as a whole and to his individual poems, of which The Windhover is, as has been repeatedly emphasized in this study as well as elsewhere, the pivotal point in G.M. Hopkins’s work.

Adopting such an interpretation of the octet, of the description of the bird, it is interesting to discover hos it influences the possible readings of the sestet. “Thee” referred to l.10 is “Christ our Lord.” Most critics agree that “AND” is capitalised because it serves as a dividing point between two images: that of the falcon and that of Christ. Indeed, a classical construction of the sonnet would more probably limit the former to the octet, and devote the whole sestet to the latter. Here, the dynamic description of the kestrel !”overflowed” the form, and a visible separating mark was needed.

But most of all, the capitalisation indicates the contrastive rather than conjunctive value of the crucial “ AND. [16] In fact, “AND” is the centre of gravity of the poem: above, the “brute beauty,” “barbarous beauty” (as in Hurrahing in Harvest) of the proud Son of the Morning; below, the hidden glory of “blue-bleak embers” of the crucified Christ.

 The motive of crucifixion, combined with Christ being called the “chevalier” (l. 11) and the general abundance of feudal/medieval/chivalric imagery in the poem (“minion,” “king,” “dauphin,” “rein,” “mastery,” “valour,” “pride,” “plume,” “chevalier” make the appearance of “dangerous” in l. 11 much more plausible), bring about the reminder of a much older masterpiece of English literature. “Then the young Hero stripped himself - that was God Almighty - strong and stouthearted.”[17] , The Dream of the Rood presented Christ as a young: warrior – surprisingly, in the very moment of hanging on the cross. Hopkins , either conscious of “The Dream.” or independently, adopts the same wording to imply the contrast and thus the struggle between two knights: Christ and the Devil. Conforming to Hopkins ’s typical optimism, Christ is stronger, “more dangerous,” “a billion times.” However, another interpretation of dangerous” seems plausible, the one proposed by Daiches: dangerous, he maintains, is to be carried away by the chivalresque qualities in Christ - He should be the example of humility, meekness and endurance, not of “valour and act.”[18]

The importance of the above poem and its interpretation to the subject of the present study has already been hinted at. The Windhover is composed of two parts: the aesthetic octet, where the beauty of the bird is described, and the ascetic sestet, where Hopkins raises Christ’s humility above the “brute beauty” of nature. Both parts are contrasted by means of the capitalised “ AND. ” This contrast is greatest when the interpretation of the hawk as a manifestation of Devil, or of some of its qualities, is adopted. As can be seen, the ascetic dominates above the aesthetic in Hopkins in this poem. He quenches in himself the sensuous delight for beauty, and rationally turns towards traditional Christian values. What remains to be seen is to what extent this preference is conditioned by Hopkins ’s personality, and to what extent it is the result of his religion and vocation. More important still is to study Hopkins ’s attitude to beauty in detail. An analysis of a poem of 1885 may shed some light on this question.

 

[1] Abbott ed., 85.

[2] I.A. Richards, The Dial, vol. 131, September 1926.

[3] Pick, 70 .

[4] M. McLuhan, “The Analogical Mirrors,” Gerard Manley Hopkins, A Critical Symposium, 27.

[5] S. Barańczak, Preface to Gerard Manley Hopkins, Wybór poezji, Kraków: Znak, 1981, 8.

[6] F.R. Leavis, “Gerard Manley Hopkins,” Hopkins , A Collection of Critical Essays (G.H. Hartman ed.), Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1966, 29.

[7] However, Yvor Winters concludes his essay on The Windhover: "It is not the greatest sonnet ever written, nor even the best in Hopkins , it is a poem of real, but minor and imperfect virtues; and that is all." Y. Winters, “Gerard Manley Hopkins,” Hopkins , A Collection of Critical Essays, 56.

[8] W.S. Johnson, Gerald Manley Hopkins, The Poet as Victorian, New York : Cornell University Press, 1968, 8.

[9] D. Daiches, Note to “The Windhover,” The Norton Anthology of English Literature, New York : Norton, 1979, vol. 2, 790.

[10] The Bible (Matt. 14:12 ).

[11] J. Milton, “ Paradise Lost,” The Norton Anthology, vol. 1, 1421.

[12] H. Newman, The Idea of a University, Oxford : Oxford University Press, 1964.

[13] I. Loyola, Ćwiczenia duchowne, Kraków: Anczyc, 1894, 175.

[14] Loyola, 171-172.

[15] Loyola, 167.

[16] This meaning is also clearly visible in two otherwise very different Polish translations of the poem: two translators of The Windhover, Stanisław Barańczak and Jerzy Pietrkiewicz, in uncharacteristic agreement, both use “a” instead of “i.”

[17] The Norton Anthology, vol. 1, 22.

[18] Ibid., vol. 2, 1790.

 

© Jan Rybicki 2006