May 2020
The word “vocation” is a concept that strikes considerable anxiety for individuals contemplating what they are “going to do" with their lives. They look at their gifts and their passions, and hope that, in some way, the two will line up with the practicality of "paying the bills." Vocation and careers differ in that careers are what a person does to make a living, and vocation is the purpose for which they were born to fulfill. The problem with vocation is that it often does not line up with a career. But even more difficult, what if our vocations do not line up with what we desire to do? Both Gerard Manley Hopkins and Lilias Trotter know this struggle well, and while they remained obscured during their lifetimes, both artists left profound reflections on the journey to vocation, found in their similar artistic processes.
More in obscurity lies the life and artistry of Lilias Trotter, born in 1853, whose giftings led her to an offer of tutelage and fame from the great art critic, John Ruskin. Though Trotter loved painting, she grappled to reconcile what this would mean in her vocation as Ruskin’s offer would require a remission of her commitment in pursing God first. Ruskin, after first viewing Trotter’s work in Venice, was shocked at her remarkable ability to "see.” In a lecture at Oxford, he praised her saying, "For a long time I used to say, in all my elementary books, that except in a graceful and minor way, women could not draw or paint. I'm beginning to bow myself to the much more delightful conviction that no one else can." Ruskin and Trotter both felt “a profound affinity to the natural world," and Trotter naturally applied his teachings (Rockness 74).
However, Trotter felt a great pull towards missional service after a spiritual awakening. She was one of many who experienced revival at the Brighton Conference where preacher Dwight L. Moody emphasized the call to service (63). Inspired by Moody’s proclamations and her own deepening relationship with God, Trotter’s compassion for the poor and “lost lambs” of London increased. Trotter invested all of her energy into working in London – ministering to both business women and prostitutes. She went beyond what was traditionally expected of a young Victorian woman. While English high society welcomed women in performing acts of charity, society did not admire women who went beyond “fashionable social work” (87). Ruskin in addition found Trotter’s passion taking her from her true ability and pressed that she make use of her gift in painting, "The power in these drawings is greater than ever – the capacity infinite in the things that none can teach; but the sense of color is gradually getting debased under the conditions of your life – the vileness of all things visible in London, and the sorrow of your usual occupation” (Rockness 92). He regarded Trotter’s work unhelpful in developing her artistic ability. And he urged Trotter to embrace a vocation based on her gift, a unique quality that should not be wasted.
At one point, he brought Trotter to his home in the Lake District to finally convince her to give her life to art. He promised her that she would become "immortal" under his tutelage if she would do away with her ministry work and fully devote herself to art. Trotter, though torn between her love for painting and ministry in London, ultimately concluded that she would not be able to "seek first God's kingdom" and "pursue art in the means that Ruskin intended." However, there are many nuances to Ruskin's relationship with women that likely impacted Trotter’s vocational decision. It can be argued, based on Ruskin's other relationship with women, that his ultimatum insinuated "choose God, or choose me." Critic Jennifer M. Loyd writes that Ruskin had a certain questionable affinity for women. Along with Trotter, Ruskin tutored Francesca Alexander, Helen Allingham, and Kate Greenaway (346). He had a "substantial female following" and though he promoted women artists, his relationships with women were concerning. For example, he fell in love with ten-year-old Rose LaTouche, whom he proposed to when she was 14 and again at age 18. He also presented himself as a suitable husband to Trotter. Trotter refused but still maintained a friendship with him through letters.
Considering the social context for Trotter, many women’s options for “careers” were severely limited. Women were expected to be “angels of the houses:” women who married and reared children. And if they weren’t, they were to be governesses, religious workers, or prostitutes (Hughes). For women artists, they were at the mercy of the male critics and artists. For instance, artist Anna Mary Howitt retreated from engaging art professionally after receiving disparaging criticism from Ruskin. For Trotter, because she was a woman, she would have needed Ruskin’s word and presence to market her as a reputable artist which meant Ruskin's offer likely would have made her indebted and reliable on him. Additionally, Ruskin had many strict beliefs about what constituted the “ideal woman.” He commended that “women’s virtues” were what the world needed but determined that women refrain from “being too much a nun” and avoid studying theology. Ruskin liked women as long as they were somewhat “emotionally and financially independent” (unmarried), “incorruptibly good,” and possessed “passionate gentleness,” “modesty of service,” and “girlish purity” (Lloyd 332; 336). In accepting Ruskin’s offer, Trotter would have been required to submit to Ruskin’s “ideal woman,” which, in reality, did not exist. The implications of accepting Ruskin’s offer would have bounded her artistry to him, and the way he wanted to shape her, rather than God. And thus, Trotter’s wrestling with her vocational decision likely was influenced by the knowledge of what a life in art with Ruskin would entail.
Trotter remained in England joyfully consumed in her service work. She later joined the foreign mission’s movement, moving to Algeria even though she was denied at an agency due to a heart condition. Trotter went anyway because of an increasing interest in Muslims and the way her insides seemed to “burn” whenever she came into contact with the words, “North Africa” (Rockness 97). She once wrote an article comparing the venture of a missionary to an eaglet taking its first flight from the nest, “The face of the cliff goes sheer down – how can it venture into that great gulf, with untried wings? But it gathers up its courage at last, and dashes out…” (97). Trotter continued to write passages such as these to represent her spiritual life. Alongside her writing she used her artistic gifts in painting to reflect on what God taught her through the subjects in her paintings and to encourage her friends. She wrote two devotionals, titled Parables of the Christ Life and Parables of the Cross, which she coupled with paintings to guide her reader. She wrote like she painted, with careful intentionality and beauty. Her devotions and her paintings influence one another, leading the reader into a richer understanding of how spiritual mysteries exist in nature thus carrying her tutelage from Ruskin even after rejecting his offer. However, despite ultimately choosing missions as her vocation, for the rest of her life, Trotter did remain curious, and sometimes wishful about art and especially, as one friend notes, when she picked up a brush (Rockness 87-88). It is her struggle to determine her vocational calling, her choice of vocational ministry, and her artistic process that connect her to the life and work of Gerard Manley Hopkins.
Hopkins, born in 1844 just short of a decade before Trotter, similarly struggled with his love for composing poetry and his deep religious convictions. Though born into an Anglican family, Hopkins converted to Catholicism at the age of 22. Hopkins, though not publicly known as a poet, had friendships with famous contemporaries such as Christina Rosetti, Walter Pater, and Robert Bridges, who later became the Poet Laureate of England. It is due to Bridges that we have any of Hopkins's work because Bridges posthumously published his friend’s work. Today, Hopkins is known as one of the most innovative Victorian poets due to his use of sprung rhythm. He invented this new poetic rhythm that finds its root in middle English writing techniques. Additionally, his work also plays with images much similar to the metaphysical poetry that we see in works such as John Donne and George Herbert. His work made its way into undergraduate and graduate studies, and he is now well-known for his original rhymes, rhythms and images (Mellown 42). All throughout his life, Hopkins wrestled with his desire to have an audience but ultimately decided against publication. Maria R. Litchmann explains Hopkins’s early angst over poetry and journey to becoming a Jesuit priest, she writes,
Regarding the element of purification, Hopkins was all his life drawn toward ascetic acts…even with regard to his creative gifts, he might have believed that God was asking for their sacrifice as then he resolved to 'give up all beauty until he had His leave (that is, permission) for it.' He went to the extreme of what he called the 'Slaughter of the innocents,' that is, the burning of his poems." (173)
Hopkins burned all of his early poetry before his Catholic conversion; Litchmann reveals that the reason for Hopkins actions is due to his desire to experience the religious ascetic life. Hopkins saw his poetry more as an ego-driven folly – something he needed to give up to have more of God rather than as a gift from God,. It wasn’t until later, when one of Hopkins’s spiritual advisors suggested him to compose a poem, that he began writing again. Hopkins used his poetry writing as an outlet during his work in the priesthood, providing fresh insight and hope during intense times of depression.
Even in choosing his vocational route as a priest, still engaged in a vocation of poetry, though writing is not how he secured a living. Much how Trotter’s paintings impacted viewers generations later, so too did Hopkins’s poetry spiritually impact readers. Litchmann throughout the duration of her essay furthers this thought but argues that Hopkins' vocation was that of a priest and a contemplative. She compares him to the prophet Isaiah, who similarly reveals contemplative tendencies through his writing. She writes that Hopkins’s ability to see the sacred in ordinary work was a holy act like the prophet (179). Today, Hopkins' work remains deeply influential as a spiritual model for contemporary Christians. His poems teem with religious imagery and mystical reflections. The earliest recognizer that linked Hopkins’s with Christian mysticism was the Christian author Evelyn Underhill, who wrote that Hopkins was the "greatest mystical poet of the Victorian era" (Sobolev 455). The mystical quality of Hopkins’s work is revealed in how he describes nature pulsing with God’s presence. He demonstrates profound spiritual knowledge much like the works of previous mystics who similarly wrote about the inner spiritual journey, such as St. Theresa of Avíla. And in our case, it is his mystical engagement with nature in his work that informs our understanding of Christian vocation.
Determining our vocations is not a linear process, nor easy to discern. For people trying to discern their vocational calling, there is unspoken pressure to forego their “talents” for a more “holier calling” in vocational ministry. We wonder, can a person fulfill their vocation in a non-religious career? How does one please God with their life’s work? What if our vocation won’t pay the bills? Or what if our vocation is something we’d just prefer not to do? Do the lives of Hopkins and Trotter merely confirm the notion that we have to “give up” what we want to do for a role in a church in order to follow God’s “will”?
Instead of acting as encouraging stories of God’s faithfulness, perhaps the testimonies of Hopkins and Trotter’s work act as a stumbling block in trying to discern calling. For instance, poet and musician Stephen Roach, creator of the Breath and the Clay creative arts movement reveals his difficulty in denying an artistic calling in a podcast on Trotter, "Though I'm careful not to judge the path of another person's decision in following the path of their inner convictions, I can't help but feel a similar knot in my stomach when I think of her choice and what it cost and what she gave away." Roach later praises her greatness in choosing not to "be great." But you can't help but notice Roach's reluctance in accepting Trotter's decision. And later in a podcast recounting the life of Hopkins, he specifically links the two artists,
You may recognize a pattern here. This heartbreaking account does not sound all that different from our profiles on Lilias Trotter or Oswald Chambers, who also struggled to reconcile their calling as an artist and their desire to follow the Spirit. And it is this very struggle that I'm compelled to address in our generation so that we might distinguish between dead religion and living spirituality. Art and faith were never meant to live in conflict but to function as complementary means toward the same end. Creativity always leads to spirituality. Healthy spirituality will always be creative.
Roach's aim in creating the Breath and the Clay was to show artists that their callings as artists are not less than or greater than a "missional calling." Nor does their work need to be "Christian" in order to be utilized by God.
Roach's uneasiness, however, is likely due to the concept of "dying to self." He may be afraid that in dying to self, people stop being artistic. He wants people to know that there are other options for vocation and that making art is a holy calling. And while I agree wholeheartedly with Roach's desire to equip a generation of artists to embrace their artistic vocations, I also want to argue that Hopkins's and Trotter's understanding of vocation is much richer and more nuanced. They understood that creativity can lead to healthy spirituality except when it is self-centered art. The ego, if not surrendered to God, can take over the art to serve its maker, thus compromising the true nature of vocation – to reveal His full character. Their stories are not necessarily "heartbreaking," as Roach puts it, but an example of how powerful art can be when it is surrendered to God. Trotter’s and Hopkins’s decision were not a choice in saying no to creativity, but saying no to the pursuit of fame in a career. They focused on seeking God’s kingdom first and then made generative, beautiful art. Trotter and Hopkins’s choice are more than simple decisions to choose the more seemingly "holier" route or one sparked by "dead religion," which is why it is valuable to have both Hopkins and Trotter in conversation with each other. For obvious reasons regarding their similarity in their decisions, they also have a similar artistic process which, when examined, helps us to understand the complexity of their careers and vocational decisions. Ultimately, their work helps us appreciate their choices and provide aid for Christian vocational discernment by engaging the role of sanctification in a person’s calling. Trotter and Hopkins both use tools of observation, imagery, and diction to reveal spiritual truths of how sanctification leads to the fulfillment of each person's uniquely designed vocation. We will consider how each individual artist does this in distinctive and similar ways and how this informs our understanding of vocation in the Christian life.
Before we examine the rhetorical nature of Hopkins and Trotter's work, it is necessary to note a common influence in both artist's lifetime that connects their work. We already know Ruskin's major influence on Trotter, and, though not in person, he similarly shaped Hopkins. Ruskin educated Hopkins’s eye to help him see the "uniqueness and distinctiveness "of created things (Mariani 7). Critic Bernadette Waterman Ward argues that Ruskin gave Hopkins the "aesthetic vocabulary imbued with Christian concepts of obedience, sacrifice, truth, and Divine Beauty" (446). For instance, Hopkins’s way of looking at nature resembles Ruskin's "The Element of Drawing" that provided him the language and a “moral framework” in which to examine the world and art (447). By examining Ruskin's influence, we understand why the two individuals had similar artistic processes. Ruskin's teaching emphasized the role observing nature to discover "truth" and argued that the foundation of the artist must be the ability to see clearly (Gully, 253). He encouraged artists to look at "nature's most humble achievements to reveal divine truth," and it is this aspect that we see occurring in both Trotter and Hopkins’s work. Both have the gift of observation and use this to share spiritual truths that they learn about the Christian life. Reading these two artists in light of one another highlights the legitimacy of observational art and reveals new nuances of each artist's work. Now that we understand the origin of Hopkins’s and Trotter's emphasis on observation, we turn our attention to how this affected the vocational journey of each artist through their engagement with nature, imagery, and written word.
Firstly, Trotter used Ruskin’s teaching and her gift of observation to notice intricate aspects of nature that resulted in her discovering spiritual truths of vocation. In her artistic process, Trotter reflected and slowed to notice the tiniest of details in nature. From there, she translated her reflections into visual images and used these to explicate what she discovered. Some criticize Trotter's quite literally, "flowery" language, but according to critic Lisa M. Sinclair, her writing is very true to the character of Victorian literature (33). In one of her more well-known observations, "the life of a buttercup," Trotter uses imagery, both visual and literary, to demonstrate what a life of surrender looks like. She reveals that the spiritual discipline of unattachment is one of the first aspects in being open to one’s calling,
Look at this buttercup as it begins to learn its new lesson. The little hands of the calyx clasp tightly in the bud, round the beautiful petals; in the young flower, their grasp grows more elastic--loosening somewhat in the daytime, but keeping the power of contracting, able to close in again during a rainstorm, or when night comes on. But see the central flower, which has reached its maturity. The calyx hands have unclasped utterly now--they have folded themselves back, past all power of closing again upon the petals, leaving the golden crown free to float away when God's time comes.
Have we learned the buttercup's lesson yet? Are our hands off the very blossom of our life? Are all things--even the treasures that He has sanctified--held loosely, ready to be parted with, without a struggle, when He asks for them?
It is not in the partial relaxing of grasp, with power to take back again, that this fresh victory of death is won: it is won when that very power of taking back is yielded; when our hands, like the little calyx hands of God's buttercups, are not only taken off but folded behind our back in utter abandonment. Death means a loosened grasp--loosened beyond all power of grasping again. (Parables of the Cross 20-21)
In a simple process, from observation to image to diction, Trotter shows the profound lesson of vocation in nature, something discovered through being open to the gifts in our life. Trotter personifies the life of a buttercup to help us consider how we live our lives: Do we "unclasp" our hands off our present realities to let God bloom new life inside of us? A buttercup, at the beginning of its life, "clasps tightly," but as it "matures," it opens its buds to the sun. She includes simple, strong verbs such as "look" and "see" at the beginning of her sentences to emphasize the act of stopping and observing. So much growth surrounding spiritual life begins with paying attention and listening to people and objects. She likens the bud of the buttercup, something that would not seem to have much relation to humans, to the things that are most treasured in our lives. Trotter uses the imagery of the buttercup to serve as a picture for our spiritual lives– at the beginning of our journey with Christ, we tightly cling to our life, but with time and maturity, we learn to surrender to God's will. In this, Trotter reveals how contemplation of the natural world, especially beauty, leads us to a deeper understanding of God and the Christian life.
Secondly, even in her diction, Trotter shows us that she is also on this journey when she includes herself in the instruction writing of "our hands." This demonstrates that Trotter, too, is learning the lesson of the buttercup as she paints and writes. She lets the visual image lead her to reflection, which she expounds on in her diction. This passage could directly relate to Trotter's vocational decision. Though we don't fully know the extent of her desire to pursue art, it seems that Trotter personally knows how to hold her treasures loosely. For her, God did come and ask for her to part with the blossom of her life when she realized that art would cost her what she felt was God's call on her life. The imagery and diction surrounding the buttercup display profound thought on being open to vocation that required surrendering, just like a little buttercup. This passage accomplishes many things and especially serves as an example in how Trotter grew to understand God's will for her life by observing the very thing Ruskin implored her to see: nature. And in it, she found how God wove lessons into nature if we simply take the time to reflect and see.
Hopkins's artistic process is essentially the same as Trotter's in composing his poetry. He, like Trotter, begins with observation and image but uses sound rather than paint and prose to convey discovered spiritual insights. Central to observing Hopkins’s work is understanding his inventive terms, "inscape and instress." Inscape refers to the uniqueness or particularity of a thing which a person discovers after using reflection and their senses. Instress refers to the "energy determining and sustaining unique form, or inscape" (Chevigny 142). Essentially, a thing cannot have inscape if there is no "instress" to hold it together. And "instress" for Hopkins is God, in whom all things "move and have their being" (142). Trotter uses image and her diction to uncover lessons of surrender and sanctification in nature, implying that God's presence is in all things. And though she does not use the terms "inscape" and "instress," she essentially does the same act as Hopkins. She plays with imagery- both written and painted – to awaken people to sense God's presence and beauty in all things. Hopkins however plays with sound to reveal how the unique attributes of each created thing find their source in God.
The sounds that Hopkins uses are complex and intricate, matching the peculiar world around him. The poem Pied Beauty is a clear example of Hopkins using image and sound together to reveal the spiritual truth of God's presence in all things:
Glory be to God for dappled things-
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles in all stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh- firecoal chestnut-falls; finches wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced- fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trades, their gear and tackle, and trim
All things counter, original, spare, strangle;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
Hopkins uses alliteration to reveal the inscape of created things. Each alliterative phrase either precedes or follows an "object" that serves to enhances that unique aspect of nature. For instance, line two contains the pairing, "couple-colour" which describes sky and cow. The stress of "kk" in sky stands out with the alliteration "couple-colour" and finds its completion in the "kk" of "cow." The cacophony of the three words brings these three very different objects together and therefore underlines the "connectedness" of all three things (implying the instress that unites everything in nature). Image-wise, Hopkins takes our understanding of a brute, multi-colored cow to describe a sunrise or sunset with multiple colors. Hopkins’s quirky use of imagery highlights the absurdness and the miracle of the things we don't see. It shows us how strange the sky and cows can be – using both imagery and sound to call our attention to the surprising, wonderful world around us.
Additionally, Hopkins' selective diction also calls attention to the inscape, or God's presence reflected, of well-known things. "Rose-moles," for example, is the way Hopkins decides to describe the small pink dots that decorate the scales of a trout. In a way, the “particularity” of the word is what calls attention to the “particularity” of the object. The "funny-ness" of the word, much like Hopkins's use of sound, opens our eyes to visually see the beautiful intricacies that every object has whether it is noticeable or forgetful, big or small. Notice the objects that Hopkins uses to his discretion as examples: skies, cows, trout, chestnuts, finches, landscapes, and working tools. Random, ordinary, strange things. Hopkins’s selective diction showcases the loving care and attention God gives to each creature, and thus praises God for the way he displays his glory in the wonderous, diverse ways.
Because of Hopkins's ability to see the sacredness in all things, I think this extends to his view of himself and his vocation. At the beginning of his career as a priest, Hopkins deemed that his early poetry was an act of the ego. While this is devastating to those who wish to read his earlier burned work, from the themes of individuality that we see in his later poetry, Hopkins likely experienced a shift himself. He later learned that following God did mean a death to the poet inside of him but a resurrection of a new kind of poet. His poetry did not have to be “all” or “nothing,” but renewed. As Hopkins developed as a priest and in his relationship with God, his view of a life “worth” living shifted as we see in his use of alliteration which highlights the ways diverse things give God glory, meaning, that every person and being has something to offer and praise God, even himself.
Hopkins used his poetry as a means of being part of the grand world which gives God glory and as a way to stay connected to God. Hopkins understood that his first vocation was to be sanctified and through that process, he was able to even more so uniquely express his calling. We see this theme in Hopkins’s poem "The Wreck of the Deutschland” (See Appendix B). This poem was the first one that we know of that Hopkins composed after seven years of "poetical silence.” Hopkins wrote "The Wreck," after being moved by the story of five nuns who drowned in a storm while being exiled for their faiths. Critics generally agree that the poem describes the spiritual ascent a person takes to knowing God (Sobolev 465). The poem is considered a masterpiece, and though debated by some, many people see this poem as great evidence for Hopkins being a Christian mystic. For our purpose, I believe that this poem demonstrates Hopkins exercising his unique calling as a poet in recording his journey to the priesthood. He relinquished his wish for an audience to embrace God.
The first ten stanzas, in particular, serve as intimate insights into the sanctification process that characterize Hopkins’s vocational choice,
Though mastering me
God! giver of breath and bread;
World’s strand, sway of the sea;
Lord of living and dead;
Thou has bound bones and veins in me, fastned me flesh,
And after it almost unmade, what with dread,
Thy doing: and dost thou touch me afresh?
Over again I feel thy finger and find thee
Line one of stanza one begins, "Thou mastering me/ God! giver of breath and bread." Hopkins does not delay to reveal who he is speaking to. The straightforward syntax, "thou mastering me," gives a tired yet elated connotation. This is further revealed by the exclamation point that follows "God" in line two. The word "mastering" implies a servant or slave kind of ownership, yet is followed by how God is motherlike in his giving of breath and bread. This demonstrates Hopkins's complex knowing of God. God is both Hopkins’s sustainer and the one by whom he is owned. He is enslaved to God and loved by Him. Hopkins uses intimate language to describe the care and specificity God took in making and disciplining him "Thou has bound bones and veins in me, fastned me flesh," and "Over again I feel thy finger and find thee" (I, l. 7-8). The former uses the emphasis of alliteration, which we previously touched on, that emphasizes Hopkins' understanding of God’s role in sanctification. Externally he was crafted by God, and in line eight, the language turns internal, and we see Hopkins aware of God's craftsmanship in his soul. The last line "over again I feel thy finger and find thee," describes God to be like a knocker at a door, he knocks on Hopkins' heart "over again," and it is only then that Hopkins is able to find God.
The tone of the poem changes greatly to Stanza II, where Hopkins touches on the painful nature of sanctification as he says "yes" to Christ in all areas,
I did say yes
O at lightning and lashed rod;
Thou heardst me truer than tongue confess
They terror, O Christ, O God;
The imagery of lightning, lashed rod, and terror inflict fear and anxiety as Hopkins embraces God with love, and in Stanza III, we see Hopkins observe God's awesome power. There is a turn in stanza IV that is both somber and sweet; it slows as he describes himself in a "soft sift" "hourglass" being always roped to Christ because of His gift of grace. In the following stanzas, as Hopkins desires to emulate Christ, he learns it requires death to the self. Hopkins and all who desire God will have to go "out of his bliss" (VI, l. 1) and into Christ's "dense and driven passion" (VII, l. 5). In stanza X, we see that sanctification is a painful process, one that must be done with "an anvil-ding," "fire," "forge," and "melting" and "mastering." Sanctification means being "forged" to God's will, and it will require sacrifice. We can see how deep, mystical, and descriptive Hopkins is of his spiritual journey, which ultimately led him to give up his "old ways" of pursuing poetry as a place to win honor, but as a way to demonstrate God's glory. It took seven years for the "anvil," and the "mastering," but Hopkins's choice to embrace his true vocation allowed him to compose a poem describing sanctification and the beauty of embracing Christ.
Trotter similarly writes extensively on the journey of sanctification and its implications for her vocational journey. Instead of employing sound as her way to emphasize her points, she uses imagery and allegory as a way to "inscape" how nature's great diversity engages the topic of vocation. We already learned of how she used selective diction in describing a yellow buttercup to emphasize the need for self-surrender but in Parables of the Christ Life, Trotter observes the life of seeds, their dying and growing, to describe the process of sanctification. She describes,
And as the petals drop off, and the growing seed-vessel comes into view, we see a fresh individuality developed… we have bunches of horns great and small, and bunches of imitation centipedes, and bunches of mock holly leaves, prickly coils, and velvety balls; mimic concertinas, and bits of quaint embroidery; imitation snail-shells, croziers, pods with frills at the seams, spiked caskets with curious indentations, clusters of stars, bladders of soft paper, and plaited spirals wound into a tiny cocanut, that, untwisted, becomes a miniature crown of thorns- are they not all a visible expression of the thoughts that are more than can be numbered? And the greater part spring from little unnoticeable flowers, so alike in their yellow or pink that you have to look closely in order to find out any difference! It is the seed-bearing that gives them their individual character. (11) (See Appendix C).
In the passage above, Trotter likens a seed vessel’s life to the sanctification process of death to the "false self," as it gives way to the "true self" ("fresh individuality developed"). Accompanied by this elaborate language, Trotter includes four visual pictures to enhance her use of imagery in her rhetoric. Her intricate brush strokes mimic the peculiarity of her language, thus, highlighting the individuality of plants and their relationship to sanctification.
Her attention to detail mimics how God similarly takes such careful care in creating each existing thing. For instance, Trotter's diction is very selective and much like Hopkins's choice of unusual words to convey a concept. Phrases and words such as "prickly coils," "velvety balls," "spiked caskets with curious indentations," "bladders of soft paper," are examples of Trotter's unique use of diction, specially chosen to demonstrate the funny, particular ways each plant or person is different from one another. She connects the life of a plant to humans by including the list of the gifts of the Spirit in 1 Corinthians 12, connecting how the diversity in nature mirrors the diversity we see in different Christian's gifts and callings. By connecting Scripture to her observations, she confirms that the Biblical understanding of calling matches her conclusions from nature. She quotes Paul, who writes, "Having gifts differing according to the grace given unto us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith, or ministry, let us wait on our ministering, or he that teacheth, on teaching." Trotter's quotation of Paul's words paired with the distinct depictions of plants is an allegory for the different and beautiful ways people are shaped and called.
Through her reflections, we get a glimpse Trotter's understanding of how individuality is a key portion to discerning vocation. Trotter's diction, imagery, and use of allegory allude to a recognition that each person has their own journey and vocation,
It is by Divine indwelling that our true, eternal personality dawns, and for the expression of the special manifestation of Himself which is entrusted to each one of us. The protoplasm that quickens each different seed is one and the same essence, but in no two does it find the same expression. He needs the whole Church to manifest His whole character and accomplish His appointed ministry, and so the individual development must differ widely in everything but the common vital principle. Life – eternal life – is the essence of all – life receiving and life-giving. There is no need to imitate the seed-vessel of a brother vetch! – only to draw into our own the fulness of grace that we may develop into its full individuality the mission entrusted to us. (12)
Trotter's allegory of the "protoplasm" stands for Christ and how he dwells in each soul, reforming them to their true self. Trotter recognizes that God needs the whole church to reveal His "whole character," because every one of us embodies a different aspect of God's image. This gives complexity to our view of Trotter's choice, one that isn't informed by "dead religion," as Roach calls it, but one that was prompted by deep consideration, sparked by her observation in nature. Trotter assures us that we each have different callings that we have to discern, "There is no need to imitate the seed-vessel of a brother vetch! – only to draw into our own the fulness of grace that we may develop into its full individuality the mission entrusted to us" (12). Trotter knows that, just as a flower or thistle differ from one another, so does her calling from others. Roach’s uneasiness around Trotter’s decision is understandable, but in her literature, we discover that she does not want people to feel pressured to necessarily copy her decisions, but rather desires people will engage self-denial to embrace God’s unique call on their lives whatever that may be. While it is helpful to engage the stories of those who went before us, we have to keep in mind that they too were on their own individual sanctification process. And, as Trotter reveals in her comparison of the diversity of seed vessels, so too should people consider their own vocations in their own journeys. Trotter's Parables of the Cross remains true for artists and all believers today – that the decision and path to vocation begin with the dying of the self, as we see in a seed, in order to receive the full individuality of the true soul as intended by Christ.
Hopkins, in his poem, “That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and The Comfort of the Resurrection,” (see Appendix D) conveys the same theme of sanctification that Trotter examines but through imagery and sound. We already know from "Pied Beauty" that Hopkins affirms the value of individuality in created things because it reveals God's presence and glory in the world. But "That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire…" shows how God uses life’s hardships in the process of sanctification to "instress" the beautiful individuality of a soul.
The poem moves the same, as we analyzed earlier, from observation to a revelation of spiritual truth. The poem begins,
Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows ½flaunt forth,
then chevy on an air-
built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ½they throng;
they glitter in marches.
Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ½ wherever an elm
arches,
Shivelights and shadowtackle in long ½lashes lace, lance, and
pair.
Here, Hopkins remarks on rainclouds scattered across the sky. His alliterative moves within the first two lines, particularly "torn tufts, tossed" and "flaunt forth," emphasize the transitory, almost violent nature of clouds. The clouds move, they march forth and are blown and tossed by the wind. The language is beautiful and even in the “roughcast” and “down dazzling” aspect of rain and cloud, Hopkins includes adjectives that remind the reader of the beauty of nature’s roughness (“glitter,” and “dazzling”).
He continues,
Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ½ropes, wrestles, beats
Earth bare
Of yestertempest’s creases; ½in pool and rut peel parches
Squandering ooze to squeezed ½dough, crust, dust; stanches,
Starches
Hopkins then juxtaposes the clouds with other aspects of nature, such the wind and soil, and then capitalizes on verbs that "instress" the churning, changing, coarse aspects of nature. Verbs such as "arches," "lance," "wrestles," "beats," "squeezed" and "starches," all reveal how the earth is constantly changing and wrestling within itself. Hopkins, through the imagery of the churning clouds, breaking elms trees, and the relentless wind, characterizes the hard reality of life. On earth, we will have difficult days, ones where we feel beaten bare just as the wind hits the earth until there is nothing left. Additionally, Hopkins uses his sound techniques but this time to highlight the way life “squanders” or “squeezes” or “starches” those who live on earth. The tone here is restless, and Hopkins juxtaposes his imagery of nature to humans to highlight how humans cannot escape “nature’s bonfire” or difficulties in life. He writes, "squadroned masks and manmakrs / treadmire toil there/," and "Man, how fast his firedint,/ his mark on mind, is gone!" Again, the sound emphasis caused by the juxtaposition of "fast" and "firedint" call attention to the brevity and struggle of life. However, the turn to human struggle sets the stage for Divine intervention, Christ and his resurrection.
And while the poem is different in nature from Trotter's exposition on seedlings, it is not much different in that it describes a journey from death to life. The first two thirds of the poem center on turbulent aspects in nature and the human’s struggle in it. But Hopkins shifts the poem from "Is any of him at all so stark/ But vastness blurs and time/ beats level," to shouting in triumph, "Enough! The Resurrection." In the midst of hardship, Hopkins prompts readers to pay attention to the reality of the Resurrection that Christ lives in them, giving them new life and hope. People do not just live, suffer, and die, but all people and things have purpose because of the redemption found in the resurrection.
Difficulties become sanctification, the road to life and relationship with God. The beginning emphasizes the fact that we cannot escape from events or circumstances that push us to our edge. But it does not have to end there, in fact God uses the hard things in our lives as sanctification to bring us to our true selves and new life, "In a flash, at a trumpet crash,/ I am all at once what Christ is,/ since he was what I am, and// This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, / patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,// is immortal diamond." Again, Hopkins’s play of sound and alliteration call attention to the “pathetic-ness” of the old self which sets up the poem’s triumphant ending, “immortal diamond.” I believe Hopkins specifically chooses the image of the diamond to prove the redemption and value of life’s relentless toils. Bad things and death are not useless nor too far gone but something that God uses to bring the diamond out of each person. A diamond is carbon that has been pressed and pushed for thousands of years before it turns into something beautiful. Without the pressure, a diamond remains just carbon. And similarly, a person remains their old self until the pressure of sanctification and intervention of the Holy Spirit found in the resurrection of Christ produces a change. Sanctification feels much like the sounds Hopkins includes throughout the poem – sounds of breaking, breaking, churning, and pushing. Scholar Paul Marini confirms, "Something exists at the core of our being, and it will shine forth when all the nonessentials are burned away: the time we were merely one more Jack or Joe or Tom or Molly, the times when we were dismissed or dismissed ourselves as some joke, the times when we were but a mere fragment – a poor potsherd – of who we might have been." (27) It is through the sanctification process in following the "parables" of the Christ-life that we discover that we too are immortal diamond. Hopkins knew better than anyone, that, at his core, he was a "potsherd," a "joke." But by loving Christ, Christ "inscaped" the true beautiful core in Hopkins, thus allowing him to acknowledge that at his core now lies a diamond. Hopkins finally realizes his true individual self in the work of the kingdom – a “potsherd,” a poet-priest who is eternally loved by God.
In our analysis of Trotter and Hopkins's art, their reflections broaden our understanding of vocation that begins in "dying to self" but results in a Christ-given individuality exercising itself through vocational work. Hopkins’s and Trotter's life work depict serious reflections and knowledge of their own experience with the sanctification process. They did not just write of death, sanctification and new life, but experienced it. They didn't live lives of fame but of faithfulness, faithfulness to the sanctification process that led to a fuller realization of their calling. For Hopkins, this was learning that he was both priest and poet – he could do both and still live in a close, right relationship with God. God used Hopkins’s confusion to renew his understanding that He made every creature unique to reveal who He is, thus bringing value and beauty to Hopkins as a writer. And for Trotter, using her art to help people come to faith and remain in Christ. Trotter was free to do the service she loved while still engaging in relishing beauty and letting it teach her. She did not have to please Ruskin but painted the things that brought her life. To this day, we have the fruits of their labor, fruits we would not have if they had accepted a lesser version of their calling by not following the Spirit. Their work did not die with them but reaped abundantly more in the way God has continued to use their stories to influence people today. For Hopkins, it could have been his obscurity that allowed him space and freedom to write innovative poems. Because he did not need to please any audience, he could play and experiment with sound and rhyme. Would the Victorians have appreciated his poetry? Would we have the innovative rhyming and sound techniques of his work without his freedom to experiment? And for Trotter, would we have her profound reflections and inspiring watercolors if she had accepted Ruskin's offer? Would she have had to give up painting “little things” like seedlings to create characteristically “Pre-Raphaelite” art? Would Ruskin have allowed her to write on theology and faith the same ways she does in her reflections? Ironically, it was the tools of observational art taught by Ruskin that kept these two artists focused on God and his faithfulness. Trotter and Hopkins's "dying" to their desires when Christ asked for them did not mean they abandoned their creativity but more so had a new, fuller revelation of it.
Self-denial freed them to create the art God had called them to, not art that others said they should be doing. Their work teaches us that if we are faithful to embrace the part of death that nature participates in, it also leads to "seed-bearing," the "immortal diamond" life. Unfortunately, there is no easy solution to discerning one’s vocation, but as we see in the work of Trotter and Hopkins, it is found through pressing into the tension of self-denial and sanctification. This extends not only for artists who are seeking to follow God’s call on their life but to every person, every seedling, every “Jack-joke potsherd,” because all participates in God’s mission of vocation to reveal unique aspects of His character.
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