The opening quatrain of Hopkins’ sonnet “As Kingfishers Catch Fire” offers one of the most compressed bursts of metaphor in Hopkins’ oeuvre.106
The first line compares kingfishers “catch[ing] fire” in the sun’s light to dragonflies “draw[ing] flame” from the same source. The second line compares both kingfishers and dragonflies to stones “tumbled over rim” of a round well. Line three compounds the comparison, adding the additional simile of a “tucked string” telling its name. Line four finishes the salvo, depicting the bow-shaped path of a swinging bell “flinging out broad [the bell’s] name.”
Structurally, simile and metaphor differ, and the comparisons in “As Kingfishers Catch Fire” should be regarded as similes instead of metaphors. The conventional definition of simile as “a comparison between two unlike things using the words ‘like’ or ‘as’” points out one distinction between the two figures. Beyond this, however, metaphor and simile differ in their grammatical forms. As Raymond Wilson, following Ricoeur, explains, a “metaphor is not a word but a full sentence with definite predication” (294). Stated alternately, a metaphor is a
grammatical sentence in which the subject compares to a noun in the predicate, with the copular verb “to be” providing the necessary connection between them. In the case of a metaphorical conceit, the metaphor may extend throughout a poem or passage of prose, but the germ of any metaphor invariably consists of a single grammatical clause in which subject compares to
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To be precise, these comparisons are similes, yet as I discuss immediately below, most critics regard simile as a species of metaphor. My point in this section is to show that Hopkins’
metaphor, whether simile or metaphor proper, often suggests a metonymical relationship between the things compared. In other words, Hopkins’ metaphor and simile are unusual in that they do not suggest an essential unlikeness between things. Contrarily, they function like metonymy, and posit an underlying unity between objects.
predicate.107 The verb of the clause marks the turning or coinciding point where the two compared objects meet.
The grammatical structure of simile is much looser, however. With metaphor, the fact that a verb links the two objects together constrains them to appear within a single clause. The comparison of a simile, however, often spans multiple clauses because the comparison turns not on the verb of a clause but rather on an adverb -- “like” or “as.” The adverb can either begin an adverbial phrase within a clause (“I float like a butterfly”), in which case the comparison occurs
within a single clause; or it may begin a separate adverbial clause (“As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame”), in which case the comparison spans two clauses.
Functionally, however, simile and metaphor correspond in that they posit an apparent likeness between essentially unlike things.108 More precisely, as Ricoeur and Wilson make particularly clear, the vehicle loses its concrete subsistence and serves merely to highlight a quality of the tenor. To revisit Ricoeur’s and Wilson’s explanation of metaphor, the reader or hearer of a metaphor perceives the absurdity of directly likening the two objects. Consequently,
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Readers may object that some metaphorical comparisons are implied and not stated. By Wilson’s account, these comparisons are metaphorical symbols, not metaphorical figures in a strict grammatical sense. (See my discussion above of Wilson’s distinction between symbol and figure.) While this may seem like a dodge, Wilson’s point is that if a metaphor is stated
explicitly, it will invariably take the form of a grammatical sentence comparing subject to predicate. Similarly, readers may object that a metaphor need not take the form of a clause at all. To cite an example from Ricoeur, the expression a “mantle of sorrow” is a metaphor, but it does not form a clause. Admittedly, this is so, but the expression implies the clause “sorrow is a mantle” (Interpretation Theory 50). Still other readers may object that some metaphorical expressions contain embedded clauses, and consequently do not consist of a single clause. Complex grammatical subjects, for example, often consist of a clause functioning as the subject of a larger clause. While this may be, the clause that expresses the comparison -- the clause upon whose copular verb the comparison hinges – also forms the metaphor proper.
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According to Ricoeur’s history, Aristotle first posited simile as an instance of metaphor (The Rule 24-5). Other rhetoricians “from Quintilian onwards” reversed Aristotle’s classification and made metaphor a subset of simile (25). Ricoeur’s sympathies seem to lie with Aristotle in perceiving simile as a “developed” metaphor (25). Taxonomic hierarchies aside, Ricoeur’s history evidences the longstanding association of the two tropes.
the hearer strips the vehicle of its objectivity and allegorizes it to represent a quality of the tenor. Tenor and vehicle are essentially unlike as real objects, and the connection between them takes the form of an abstracted quality. In sum, because hearers perceive the “absurdity” of the copular link between subject and predicate, they “[reject] the literal” identification of the two nouns and substitute an ideal or semantic relation (Wilson 295). In this relation, the objectivity of the tenor persists while that of the vehicle evanesces.
Simile functions similarly, with the exception that it never posits the relation as literal. The fact that the comparison hinges on the adverbs “like” or “as” instead of the copula “to be” primes hearers to expect an allegorical or abstracted relation. For simile and metaphor alike, then, objects compared are essentially distinct, and in order for the comparison to hold, the concrete objectivity of one of the objects must be superseded or allegorized. The quality that links vehicle to tenor is neither essential nor physical, and in the comparative relation the reality or presence of the vehicle is exchanged for an abstraction.
Ricoeur’s and Wilson’s analyses highlight several idiosyncrasies of Hopkins’ tropes in “As Kingfishers Catch Fire.” First, the welter of comparison confounds distinction between tenor and vehicle. The first four lines feature five objects, and assigning primacy to one object over the others disrupts the poem’s logic of serial comparison. Second, the sonnet compares objects as they perform an essential activity of “selving.” The sonnet’s emphasis on selving forbids abstraction, and underscores the concrete reality of each of the five objects within the serial comparison. Third, in comparing objects as they “selve,” the sonnet compares not so much the objects themselves but the objects’ action of selving. Effectively, the sonnet compares selving with selving. This tautology emphasizes the objects’ underlying connection, and further confounds distinction between tenor and vehicle. Fourth, the sestet of the sonnet insists upon a
unity that legitimates -- essentially and not abstractively – not only the comparison among the first five objects, but also the likeness of all things in creation. Thus Hopkins’ metaphors are more than metaphorical, and in positing a link between things, the sonnet points not to an idealized or abstracted connection but a real and vital identity that inheres in the nature of things themselves.
Part of what confounds allegorization is that each of the compared objects “does one thing and the same” (5). The first of Hopkins’ serial similes – “As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame” – shows two creatures exhibiting identical behavior. As a kingfisher flies in the sun, his feathers catch the light and give off an iridescent glare. The glare depends as much upon the kingfisher’s keratinous feathers as on the sunlight itself. Accordingly, the glare illustrates a quality native to the kingfisher (at least to its feathers) corresponding with the sun’s light to produce a fiery flash. The dragonfly “draws flame” from the sun in precisely the same way. As it flies in the sun, its exoskeleton reflects light in an iridescent display. The hues reflected originate from the sunlight, but the dragonfly’s chitinous exoskeleton selectively absorbs some hues while scattering others. The flame that an observer sees depends not on the light alone then but on the properties of the dragonfly’s exoskeleton, in addition to the observer’s position. Although bird and insect catch the same light, the light scattered depends on the
absorptive qualities of the keratinous or chitinous structures that cover the bird’s and the insect’s bodies.109
Thus, the kingfisher and dragonfly charge themselves with the sun’s light – they catch its fire or draw its flame – and then release (or reflect) the charge in a spectacularly and
109
The terms “chitin” and “keratin” are Victorian. The OED cites Todd’s Cyclopaedia of
Anatomy and Physiology as the English source of both terms. “Chitin” occurs in volume II of the
first edition (1836-9), while “keratin” occurs in volume IV of the same edition (1847-9). See
individually-distinctive display. A critical oddity of Hopkins’ similes appears here. In selving, the kingfisher’s and dragonfly’s actions are identical, but their identities are distinct. Thus the sonnet observes unity of action but individuality of being.
Readers of Hopkins’ “Kingfisher” poem should remember the poet’s interest in
spectroscopy. In spectral analysis, the elemental composition of an object may be identified by the wavelengths of light it emits. While kingfishers and dragonflies (and non-luminescent things in general) do not emit light, they do absorb and reflect light. The light absorbed and reflected depends on the chemical composition of the bird feather, insect exoskeleton, or thing. In catching fire, then, the kingfisher’s feathers absorb and reflect light in a specially identifiable pattern, and the iridescent flash that results marks an essential quality of the kingfisher.110 So for the
dragonfly drawing flame. In both cases, light stems from the same source, but is differently filtered by the living things it illuminates. The kingfisher’s fire and the dragonfly’s flame signify special being, then, and suggest the unique essence of two distinct forms.
Grammatically, one might say that the first clause of the simile (“As kingfishers catch fire”) contains the comparative adverb and serves as the vehicle of the comparison, while the second clause (“dragonflies draw flame”) serves as the tenor. Functionally, however, since each clause expresses the same thing – light transforming into specially distinctive iridescence -- it makes little sense to prefer the one clause as more essential or concrete than the other. Another alternative persists, however. Potentially, the mechanics of iridescence could be the poet’s focus, and both the dragonfly and the kingfisher could be allegories for the properties of reflected light. In other words, while the poem ostensibly contrasts the actions of the dragonfly and the
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Interestingly, the spectral properties of bird feathers and insect exoskeletons still excite scientific curiosity. In a recent article published in the Nov. 21, 2011 issue of Optics Express, scientists measured the “refractive index of butterfly wing scales” against that of bird feathers.
kingfisher in catching fire and drawing light, perhaps the two are incidental to an investigation of the properties of light. Thus, if the poem is about light and not about creatures, the concrete existences of the kingfisher and the dragonfly may be allegorized away as vehicles for an inquiry of light.
Yet the poem forbids this alternative as well. As the previous analysis suggests, the poem really is about the distinct nature or essence of creatures, and the concrete reality of the creatures may not be superseded. In one sense, both clauses concern light and express the same thing -- the way light, filtered or reflected by matter, illustrates the essential properties of that matter. In another sense, however, the clauses concern creatures and express different things: the first expresses the essential nature of a kingfisher; the second expresses the essential nature of a dragonfly.
The other similes in the poem function similarly, and testify to the special nature of objects as witnessed by the general behavior of energy. The second simile is particularly odd, and performs a synesthetic transposition of sight to sound. Moreover, in this transposition, the second simile appropriates the first simile, annexing it as its first term.
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring;
Usually, a new simile in a poem will pose two new objects of comparison. But the second simile of Hopkins’ poem poses only one new object or class of object – the stones that ring as they are tumbled over the rims of round wells. The stones’ ringing compares to both the
dragonfly’s drawing flame and the kingfisher’s catching fire. Thus the first simile, collapsed together, forms the first term of the second simile.111
Alternately, the two terms of the third simile, collapsed together, may be viewed as the second term of the second simile. Either way – or perhaps both ways -- the incomplete second simile suggests that comparison spills over between similes. In mathematical terms, the similes of the first quatrain of the sonnet may be represented as follows: (A B) C (D E), where A is the kingfishers catching fire; B is the dragonflies drawing flame; C is the stones ringing; D is the tucked string telling; and E is the swung bell flinging.112 Such a mathematical arrangement suggests that comparison acts between similes in addition to within them. Whole similes compare to each other much as terms within a simile compare to each other. In effect, the individual similes act as terms within a larger or compound simile. The fragmentary and
incomplete nature of the second simile (containing only one term, “C”) emphasizes the fact that comparison spills over from one simile to another. Effectually, these compound similes further confound distinction between tenor and vehicle: finding the tenor of a single simile is
problematic, but finding the tenor of the entire morass is nigh impossible. In fine, all terms in the quatrain are equally important, and the serial and interlocking nature of the similes preserves the concreteness of each term.
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Hopkins’ punctuation signals where one simile ends and the next begins. Commas distinguish objects compared within a simile, and semicolons distinguish one simile from another. Viewed this way, it is evident that the second simile contains only one object or “term” – the ringing stones tumbled over rim in roundy wells.
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More specifically, considering the first simile, collapsed together, as the first term of the second simile yields the notation [(A B) C] (D E). On the other hand, considering the third simile, collapsed together, as the second term of the second simile yields (A B) [C (D
E)]. But since neither notation is more valid than the other, the most proper construction of the quatrain is probably [(A B) C]; [C (D E)].
Hopkins’ unusual comparative structure highlights his transition from the behavior of light to the behavior of sound. Much as light expressed the distinctive nature of the kingfisher and the dragonfly, so sound expresses the distinct hardness of stones as they ring against the sides of the well. Again, the general behavior of energy, whether light or sound, attests the special character of objects. James Milroy argues that Hopkins modelled his aural similes in the poem after Max Müller’s “Ding-Dong” theory of language (66). By Müller’s theory, human language evolved from mimicking the sounds objects make when they are tapped or rapped. Struck sharply, an object “utters” its nature or the idea of its being: stones ring to attest their essential hardness, and likewise wood knocks, mud splats, and wisps whisper. For prehistoric human listeners, the self-distinctive sounds objects made when struck supplied a symbolic basis for language. Accordingly, the roots of human language reach back to a prehistorical moment when speakers began to apply symbolically, to circumstances and events, the sounds objects make when struck.
If Milroy is correct, then once more the poem examines physical phenomena indicative of material composition and structure. Much as the iridescent spectroscopy of the kingfisher and dragonfly expresses their physical composition, so the ringing of stones “tumbled over rim in roundy wells” expresses their physical structure. An object’s hardness follows directly from its material make-up: When a hard object is struck, the ringing sound it emits witnesses its internal order and form. An object’s signature sound (ringing) suggests its characteristic properties (hardness), which in turn imply its intrinsic material composition. Again, the common behaviors of energy, light or sound, attest the especial nature of objects. As the fire and flame of the
kingfishers and dragonfly reveal their internal order, so the ringing of stones discloses their inner constitution.113
The third simile extends from the second, again identifying objects by the sounds they produce when struck or stroked: “Like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s/ Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name” (3-4). With this simile, Hopkins’ speaker turns from natural objects (stones) to human artifacts, stringed instruments and tolling bells. The strings of an instrument are named according to the pitch they play. When a violinist, for instance, “tucks” or plucks a string (pizzicato), the tone that issues from the string names the string. An “E” string
plays the musical pitch E, an “A” string plays the musical pitch A, a “D” string plays the musical pitch D, and a “G” string plays the musical pitch G. Accordingly, “each tucked string tells [. . .] its name.” Much the same applies for bells, which also may be described according to the pitch a listener hears.114 A bell’s or string’s pitch depends directly on the frequency at which the
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Technically, sound isn’t a distinct form of energy. Since sound consists of a pressure wave in a medium (air, usually, but potentially water or earth or any other medium), sound is actually an instance of mechanical pressure. All the same, sound is a “form” of energy in that it is an
instance of it.
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The naming of bells is complex. In an English ring of bells, bells are numbered from highest to lowest. A ring comprises between 3 and 16 bells, depending on the range of the ring and the intervals between individual bells. The highest bell in the ring (bell #1) is called the treble; the lowest toned, the tenor. The intervening bells are designated by the number of their place in the ring.
In addition, the tenor bell is often named according to the pitch or tone listeners hear when it is rung. But bells do not have a single or “pure” pitch. Rather, bells produce multiple pitches, and the tone a listener hears depends as much upon the human sensorium as upon the bell itself. The predominant pitches a bell produces are called “partials,” and most bells have five