Howards End: Imagery 14 key examples

The visual imagery of the ocean community being “swept away” and reforming itself, and the auditory language of the sound of the waves, evoke a sense of natural continuity and flow. The architecture of London is aligned with the sea in this passage, which like its buildings rises and falls rhythmically. The imagery of the promontory rising and the old houses being swept away also conveys a sense of impermanence and transience in the face of constant change. The promontory in the above passage, with its “expensive flats” and “cavernous entrance halls,” also references the encroachment of the urban world on the natural environment of England. 

The use of auditory imagery folded into the simile of the “thunder clap” reinforces the shocking and sudden nature of Helen’s regard. Rather than falling gradually in love, the feeling “burst” on her, giving the reader a sense of its mighty power. The use of the word "burst" suggests a sudden and explosive release of feeling, while the reference to "reverberations" evokes echoes and aftershocks that continue to thump through her.

Forster also employs the metaphor of illness to describe Helen's condition, portraying her as a "serious patient" who is "sick" with love for the Wilcoxes. This metaphor emphasizes the extent to which Helen's infatuation has taken hold of her, and suggests that she cannot simply shake it off.

The choice of words used to describe Helen's infatuation and her subsequent "illness" also serves to highlight the intensity of her sudden emotions. By using this language, the author emphasizes the overwhelming nature of Helen's feelings, and the fact that they are not easily contained or controlled. She is so overcome with them that they are making her ill. The use of vivid imagery and metaphor creates a powerful impression of Helen's infatuation and its impact on her. The emphasis on the suddenness and intensity of the feeling also helps to create a sense of tension and drama at this early point in the book.

The visual imagery of light invoked by the "glow" described here connotes warmth, brightness, and energy. The “native hue of resolution” that Margaret feels to sever ties with the Wilcoxes is so strong that it lights the letter up from within. However, the phrase "pale cast of thought" provides a contrast to this image of brightness and warmth. The word "pale" implies a certain fragility or weakness. It suggests that Margaret is aware of the potential consequences of her actions. In getting her thoughts down on paper, she enlivens them and makes them useful, instead of stewing in worry. She feels that in writing she is wiping away the “tarnish” of her anxiety. She uses the “breath” of her thoughts to disrupt and polish away the “tarnish” of the situation, as one might breathe on a piece of metal before rubbing off a smudge.

The church, rather than the dead woman, is the focal point of the scene. It is described as a ship, “high-prowed” and steered by its crew “towards infinity.” This metaphor emphasizes the role that the church plays in guiding some people through the sea of life. Like a ship, the church is powerful, directed by an unseen force, and offers support in navigating the unknown. Church architecture is also often compared to or styled after that of ships, as it is meant to invoke a sense of wonder, power, and strong shelter. The imagery of clouds “drifting” also suggests the wind in the sails of a ship, heightening the reader’s immersion in the scene. The clouds also give the scene a sense of the ethereal and otherworldly, invoking the afterlife which Mrs. Wilcox has presumably entered.

The woodcutter's fleeting observation of the funeral from a distance also highlights the transience of life and the inevitability of death. Forster’s use of majestic imagery on this grand scale also underscores the significance of the moment, echoing the important role Mrs. Wilcox plays in the novel’s plot even after her death.

The Wilcoxes are like the ocean in this passage, flowing in and out of Margaret’s life with little control on her part. Mrs. Wilcox, who at this point has a stronger influence on her, is described as a “great wave,” and Paul a “ripple.” Mrs. Wilcox's death is also likened to the outgoing tide, leaving behind flotsam from her life “strewn” at Margaret’s feet.

The use of water imagery in this passage is rich with visual language. Through the diction of ebbing and flowing and of the movement of tides, Forster evokes a sense of fluidity and constant change. The use of the word "tide" to describe Mrs. Wilcox's death here also creates a sense of inevitability and finality. Margaret can do little but stand and watch the “outgoing” of this “tremendous” influence on her life. Like the ocean, Mrs. Wilcox also maintained a sense of mystery and dignity until her death. Though her passing was painful, she still reminds Margaret of a powerful natural force that leaves traces behind.

Oxford and Cambridge are two of England’s “ancient universities,” the oldest and most august seats of learning in the country. This allusion emphasizes the national importance of Oxford as a symbol of intellectual and class privilege. The narrator also repeats a common British stereotype of the time in this description. They imply that Oxford is better than Cambridge in a way that can’t be easily explained, saying that “Oxford is—Oxford.” It’s worth noting here that this is sarcasm on the part of the author, as Forster himself went to Cambridge.

The imagery of Oxford is rich and appealing, invoking the golden stone and ancient quadrangles of the Oxford Colleges. Its lushness and warmth is almost something Tibby and the reader can taste. The visual and the tactile are combined as the university is described as being "soaked" with the wealth and effort of the “western counties,” like a sugary fruitcake.

In addition to this voluptuous sweetness, Forster also personifies the University. Oxford is described as a living thing that enfolds its students, and that wants its "inmates" to "love it." Tibby feels that he can “understand” Oxford’s personality on his own terms. This personification suggests that Oxford is more than just a collection of buildings, books, and traditions; it has a character and a spirit of its own.

The narrator, as they describe the Schlegel sisters (who are both "English" and "European"), is struck by the “dignity” of the scene. The “plane-trees and lamps” lend a note of “dignity” that they mention is rare in English cities. This is situationally ironic because the Chelsea Embankment is one of the oldest walkways in London, and its “plane trees and lamps” form a quintessentially English scene. The idea that Germany has a monopoly on the “blessing” of the “open space used rightly,” especially in a novel full of elegant public places and rolling green landscapes, is arch and ironic.

The imagery in this passage is vivid, using visual, auditory, and tactile cues to bring the reader into the scene. It evokes the feel of the damp air and the “whispering” of the ocean, painting a picture of a pleasant night in London with all its sights and sounds. The peacefulness of the scene is emphasized by the “gentlefolk in evening dress” who move calmly, strolling through the twilight. This imagery also invokes detachment from the usual noise and bustle of the city, which Margaret often says she dislikes.

The simile of reason being “like a wave” in this passage emphasizes the impossibility of comprehending everything that is happening in the country at once. Forster repeats the phrase “how many” several times, underlining the unimaginable number of things and people that England contains. The metaphor of the imagination "swelling and spreading" refers to the necessity of taking a broad view. Although one can’t get every detail of England, one can expand one's thinking to take in the sheer vastness of the landscape as a whole.

The imagery used in this passage also contributes to the novel’s overwhelming sense of the country's packed fullness. The mention of “villages,” “castles,” and “churches” suggests a rich history that is both visible and hidden. The inclusion of “ships, railways, and roads” also implies a sense of innovation and modernity, which is juxtaposed with the images of older settlements and structures that precede them. The passage conveys a sense of the country's tradition and modernity existing side by side, as well as the diversity of people working to achieve different goals.

The passage is full of vivid visual and auditory details of the ocean. It conjures an intense sense of place, from its “gull sounds” to the "throbbing," vein-like pulses of rivers through estuaries to the sea. England itself is depicted as a "ship of souls," a common phrase at this time of the height of British colonialism.

Forster’s narrator here asks the reader to whom England belongs. They suggest there are two options: it might belong to the people who want to use her power to make her “feared by other lands,” or to those who “have seen her” as a “jewel in a silver sea,” setting a cultural and spiritual example without international menace. The first option seems to be aligned with people like the Wilcoxes, and the second with families like the Schlegels.

Personification also comes into play in this passage, as England is given a gender, emotions, and “complexities.” It is characterized as a living being which can “cry for joy,” and with a multifaceted personality which can be “feared,” admired, or loved. This personification complicates the novel’s narrative of the future “ownership” of England, as the Wilcoxes treat it like inanimate land, but Margaret sees it as a person with emotions and feelings.

The metaphor that Forster uses here implies that London is too quick, intense, and indifferent to its citizens for Margaret’s taste. These characteristics align with Margaret’s views on her contemporary England, which she sees as galloping forward into an unpleasant and mercenary future. She is concerned that people don’t “connect” with each other, as she says repeatedly. The “continual flux” of the “qualities, good, bad, and indifferent” that London exemplifies is, to Margaret, “the epitome of English people “at [their] worst.”

Margaret's views on London are contrasted with Henry Wilcox's in the same chapter. Henry takes the opposite view, having a deep admiration for industry, development, and the “constant flux” of cosmopolitanism and modernization. This is one of the central conflicts between these two characters in the novel, as they have different perspectives on their country’s potential and purpose. Margaret's regard for the vast and (comparatively) unmoving sea around England is juxtaposed to Henry’s preference for the “streaming” forward motion of London.

When characters talk about "connection," they are referencing the idea of the "inner life." Margaret’s rich “inner life” gives her easy access to her emotions, to understanding other people, and to an appreciation of the world’s beauty. Henry, however, is closed-off, practical to a fault, and oblivious to other people's viewpoints. The “inner life” of emotions, empathy, and deep thought is contrasted with the "outer life" of material things, capitalism, and imperialism in the novel. The “outer” is represented by the Wilcoxes, who are focused on appearance and possessions. The Schlegels are linked to the “inner” because they prioritize connection, education, and feeling. This division between "inner" and "outer" is strongly linked to Margaret’s catchphrase, "Only connect!" This phrase refers directly to connecting the inner life with the outer, and also to prioritizing communication and empathy.

When people cannot “connect” their inner lives to their “outer lives” in Howards End, they are not whole. They are unable to have truly intimate relationships and friendships. When the narrator's focus returns to this pair in Chapter 22, Margaret hopes that she can coax her husband out of his “fear of loving” her and his obliviousness to his “inner life.” Forster uses the visual imagery of light to underline this connection:

[Margaret] might yet be able to help him to the building of the rainbow bridge that should connect the prose in us with the passion. Without it we are meaningless fragments, half monks, half beasts, unconnected arches that have never joined into a man. With it love is born, and alights on the highest curve, glowing against the grey, sober against the fire. [...] It was hard going in the roads of Mr. Wilcox’s soul. From boyhood he had neglected them.

Cite this Quote

In this passage, the author connects the “inner life” to poetry, and the “outer life” to prose, making the inner seem lyrical and romantic, and the other steadfast and workaday. Forster links the “inner life” of poetry and emotion to the sensory language of light in this passage. He describes its capacity to generate love as being like a shimmering being “glowing against the grey” of life outside it. Henry Wilcox cannot access this, as he has “neglected” the “roads” to it “from boyhood." He has never prioritized his emotional development, and so is stuck with a life of "fragments."

When characters talk about "connection," they are referencing the idea of the "inner life." Margaret’s rich “inner life” gives her easy access to her emotions, to understanding other people, and to an appreciation of the world’s beauty. Henry, however, is closed-off, practical to a fault, and oblivious to other people's viewpoints. The “inner life” of emotions, empathy, and deep thought is contrasted with the "outer life" of material things, capitalism, and imperialism in the novel. The “outer” is represented by the Wilcoxes, who are focused on appearance and possessions. The Schlegels are linked to the “inner” because they prioritize connection, education, and feeling. This division between "inner" and "outer" is strongly linked to Margaret’s catchphrase, "Only connect!" This phrase refers directly to connecting the inner life with the outer, and also to prioritizing communication and empathy.

When people cannot “connect” their inner lives to their “outer lives” in Howards End, they are not whole. They are unable to have truly intimate relationships and friendships. When the narrator's focus returns to this pair in Chapter 22, Margaret hopes that she can coax her husband out of his “fear of loving” her and his obliviousness to his “inner life.” Forster uses the visual imagery of light to underline this connection:

[Margaret] might yet be able to help him to the building of the rainbow bridge that should connect the prose in us with the passion. Without it we are meaningless fragments, half monks, half beasts, unconnected arches that have never joined into a man. With it love is born, and alights on the highest curve, glowing against the grey, sober against the fire. [...] It was hard going in the roads of Mr. Wilcox’s soul. From boyhood he had neglected them.

Cite this Quote

In this passage, the author connects the “inner life” to poetry, and the “outer life” to prose, making the inner seem lyrical and romantic, and the other steadfast and workaday. Forster links the “inner life” of poetry and emotion to the sensory language of light in this passage. He describes its capacity to generate love as being like a shimmering being “glowing against the grey” of life outside it. Henry Wilcox cannot access this, as he has “neglected” the “roads” to it “from boyhood." He has never prioritized his emotional development, and so is stuck with a life of "fragments."

Forster uses the simile of a "curtain" lifting to describe Margaret's transition from the outside, everyday world to the lush garden. This comparison suggests that the beauty and tranquility of Howards End are hidden from view until the “curtain” is lifted. As the car, which represents her modern life in London, “turn[s] away,” she is faced with a new and more appealing vision.

Forster’s metaphorical language continues with the description of the tulips as a "tray of jewels." This metaphor compares the bright and colorful flowers to precious gems, emphasizing their beauty and value in Margaret’s eyes. The vine on the wych-elm—a plant that’s usually wiry and strangling­—is instead soft and appealing, covered with “velvet knobs.” Even the weeds, usually considered an unsightly aspect of a garden, are described as “intensely green,” further emphasizing the “seldom”-seen fertility and beauty of the estate.

The enormous tree is described as if it is an ordinary English person: a “comrade,” not a “god.” The repetition of the word "comrade" creates an inviting atmosphere, as it implies that the tree (and the house it stands over) are not just inanimate objects but are friendly to Margaret. This personification of the tree suggests that it isn’t separate from the lives of the people who live in Howards End, but rather has a positive and active influence over them.

The description of the wych-elm also uses nationalistic language. Stating that the English do not excel in the roles of "warrior, nor lover, nor god” implies that they do excel at being “comrades.” This seems more desirable here, as the reader knows that Margaret is discontented with the grandiose imperialist ambitions of those around her. She wants to live a simpler, warmer life. Howards End and its surroundings seem to suggest that this is a possibility. This description of the tree invokes a different aspect of English life for Margaret, one that is focused on home and not concerned with colonizing other countries.

The wych-elm is described as being both old and young, strong and soft, presenting the reader with a series of paradoxes. The tactile and visual imagery in Forster’s language presents the tree as “bending over” the house as a “comrade,” while having "strength and adventure in its roots.” The reader gets a sense of its enormity and its fragility through this juxtaposition. Although it is huge, with "girth, that a dozen men could not have spanned," it also has "tenderness" in its "utmost fingers.” Even its roots, which hold it to the ground, have “adventure” in them. Like the idealized England Margaret imagines, it is both ancient and full of new life, rooted to history and able to grow and change.

The metaphor of chess that Forster uses here ("the king takes the queen, and the ace the king") highlights the social games played by the Wilcoxes. Although the games are cruel and unthinking, Margaret sees this "ordered insanity" as a contrast to the randomness and unpredictability of life and death. She compares these two things in a long, rapid list to a “deep river,” a “blue sky,” a “house,” a “wisp of hay,” a “flower,” and a “tower.” These images vary hugely in size, scale, and power, conveying a sense of randomness that defies the Wilcoxes' attempts to impose order on the world.

The last part of this passage reveals Margaret’s complicated feelings about the choices she has made, particularly her marriage to Henry Wilcox. She sees her relationship after this as a “limit” that “fetters” her, and as part of the very social order that she is questioning. She starts to think of "hope" beyond her limited, ordered world, and envisions "beauty and adventure" and "truer relationships" that exist beyond the Wilcoxes and their opportunistic greed.