THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN EMILY DICKINSON'S CRISIS

POEMS AND HER PERSONAL TRAGEDIES

APPROVED:

imiA MaVjor Professor

CfrC/tc>, <?• du Minor/ Professor

Ctohsulting Professor

Chairman of "the Department of English

Dean of the Graduate School

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8annia 3m t ffiffiWMMI Hill,

Dickinson's jSljf&g fafMi S M S££ ttljfflti Mas-

ter of Azt> (ISn-ili h), December, 1970, 147 pp., biblio.;raphy,

14 titlos.

Shis thesis is concarnad with systematically invasfci-

•gatinf tha relationship lMtwHe *«&ly Dickinson• s aany

peuamml tragadiaa and the crisis poa»a «bi<A grew out of

tbeau Xta basic organization is foraad by discussing spafif-

ie periods of her lifo in each chapter# JSaily Dickinson \

lived • r«l*tiv«ly secluded lifo in lior father's hoea in

Aabiriti Massachusetts. Bowever, her seclusion was fro* tha

trivial aapoets of lifa rather than fron lifa itself. Sbc

was literally in lova with everyday existence. this abiding

love was Mia reason why sha was coapletely vulnerable to tha

heartbreaks of lifa. If aha had cara<5 laaa ex had baan lass

receptive to all tha glory and pain of existence, sha would

not have had to endure tha agony sha did* Itevertheless, her

coaplete enthrall»ent with lifa coupled with h«r intrinsic

need for privacy did laava har oaeplately uashialdad against

tragedy, whila having no way to unburden har sal f of it. thus

sha began to write. Har writing w»,i har «u»ans of voicing har

pain and thereby raliaving herself of so»a of its weight. The

larga body of poatry that ratal tad is today tha suLrror and

record of Smily Dickinson's lifa.

1

tolly DieklxuNNs** bn«i« •utlad** aa* idaala wmm fo«r-

antlatad at a fairly oasly afa« Shi d l M o m ^ l witk tte loaa

of Sofiiia iilUnd that ftioitia wa*a tea* moat prtsid jsossas-

ulcus* Sha f«v« iMKMlf *ip eomtplotaly to thoao %?fe©as alia

ftaghfc oat to bo k*i fxloada, Vhay vara part of tof vo*y

l»ai»§« ilia of tan ioat those »Im* lovad aithar throiigh daatit

ox b»tx«yal, and aaoh laaa foxoad anothor bclok in t)« ftraa*-

w » k at l»a* U f a * SlM aavor format. Saoli paafc tx«9«dy wa«

•ultlpiiad and iaftoaaiflo* by a imw m m « aa that aha M not

only to ©opt with tfca peasant oua fewfc aaoh of tha past ©no#

at tha ««»« tipa. If «ha had not boon *fcla to vant tha paiit

titoonfh hai tootsy, *ha mmM sot hava feaao abla to aaduxa

it* Xn 1861 a ad 18§2 whaa aha aimoat Old l«ta har aaaity

baoatiao of tha loaa of ha* "Mftatar* • aha «roatod u m m of har

vary boat 900try in givla? h»x toraant voica.

A1«B9 with hair attltnda conoaxntm? hair frloada, Sadly

DioHlncoa alao fonmlatod ho* a m Ida* of or^aalaod raligio*.

Sha vaa brought up la an 19# »&d aa ataeaphara in which 4 M

waa prasantwsi aa a jtalous, wrathful feaint who

cooplata obadianea ftinfMeid by throats of daaoatloa* Sully

Dioklnao* waa navar abla to lovo auob a ( M . Bottovor, aha

vaa tmabla to viaualixa any othar. *ha ooly ooocopt of

fora*ll*ad raligloo which aba did folly baliava waa that BIB

%**# «a lawMttAl bain?. * ! • US* «i« » m * r«*U? « * M .

9b* b t l i m d j«s t m «tx«i9ly» iMwm*# that fch» pN*pl« vfc*

adll«wd l l f * «•!« M N tlMMk t t e i r

*1mm *im lmm& m « wwr* pr*ei®«# m tow «fc«® tto* prls# *f

•t#rr;al lit® «owl<S iw> to tlieii* becfiuse fctiey IWMI ©ttaim>d •

wortfe coultf *»**&• lil «• WM «ft»t «tot w *

•toippcd* Snr ! • witto Ch*i«ti»nty *lM9 " I t k te« ***

pxivmtm mlmim t© tfel* conf l ic t in mmqkMI i s to»r

poetry,

M l y Di«kln»Mt *1*0 l ew* tot* Imm mwA «tdl4hs<Mf* Sim

f i l l « bum! «ifeti b«r %Atl4fc «*• mmmw broken, m4

l«n9«d ftl«t|« £m fc&a pmtmmtim and mmtitf of M i S M .

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diod# ah« lo t* %li# mmwitf in w M d h«r too* f l o w -

feut • ! • COWd MM IMHIfliSI'f

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fmiM ttoot sts® was a®** 4o«pa*ataly a#®i«wl fc<* fwiil»lt mtrnthmx

imamm baiag * s aaoaxity. Wait »*>fch«r toaean* h#r eM.14, M i

sh« wmtlM mmvmx tmvm too*. Warn hmm and her %wm Mm chi ld-

ren. inelodia? hex mother, aca iMNMrtaiiaodi in h*r paatty *

ftta «»$«« aoooeoa a£ stafca iwe fclia i n f o n i t i M In ttia

tlMMli* •** M i y Oi«kiBM«'« »«Ki toa* |NM«Xy, • • Will

4

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of th« •tttdji. OtiMr »tu6i«» act o»«<t only w3Nm tfc«y m«mI

to add information 0m tho Ktltt lmil i lp botwoo*

t s i l y OiekisuHi'i 1U« »ad tax po*uy. Ik* «onel«iiMt i s

tb*t Sadly Dickiaoon'# potlcy M f l t e t i m t y aspect of bor

U(«» •apffeiaily tho tragic.

V " '

THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN EMILY DICKINSON'S CRISIS

POEMS AND HER PERSONAL TRAGEDIES

THESIS

Presented to the Graduate Council of the

North Texas State University in Partial

Fulfillment of the Requirements

For the Degree of

MASTER OF ART

By

Bennie Jean Parmer, B. A.

Denton, Texas

December, 1970

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter Page I. A BACKGROUND OF LONELINESS

AND DEATH 1830-1841 1

II. THE TRAGEDIES OF ADOLESCENCE 1842-1852 17

III. THE LOSS OF TWO FRIENDS 1853-1859 38

IV. THE BEGINNINGS OF BREAKDOWN 1860-1862 56

V. THE FIGHT FOR SANITY 1861-1862 80

VI. THE LOSS OF FRIENDS AND THE FORTRESS 1863-1875 103

VII. A CONCLUSION OF REPEATED TRAGEDY 1876-1886 122

BIBLIOGRAPHY 146

t n

CHAPTER I

A BACKGROUND OF LONELINESS AND DEATH

1830-1841

y

\^Emily Dickinson was acutely sensitive to every detail

of life. The beauty and fragrance of a flower gave her so

much delight that her appreciation of it bordered on idol-

atry. By the same token, however, the most minute upset

in her personal life amounted to an emotional tragedy. Be-

cause of her awareness of every aspect of living and because

of her need for privacy, Emily Dickinson gradually withdrew

from all contact with the outside world, seeing only her "7

immediate family and special friends*' *4

Nevertheless, even m her seclusion, Emily Dickinson

lived a complete and rich life. Each day was spent helping

her mother and Lavinia create a comfortable, well-organized

home for her father and Austin. This home was her fortress

and one of the most sacred things in her life. Her greatest

interest, unknown even to her family, was forming her

experiences into poems. Another major interest in her life

was her friends, again whom she loved to an almost idolatrous

Social contact, her extensive interest in life, made tangible

in her poems and her letters, proves that she cut herself

off from only the shallow features of existence and not life

>

itself. J

As long as she lived, Emily Dickinson's capacity for

feeling never diminished. When her friends suffered, she

suffered. When she lost anyone she loved, either from be-

trayal or death, she never completely recovered. Perhaps

she loved flowers so much because her own nature closely

resembled that of a delicate and sensitive plant. The major

difference is that Emily Dickinson constantly suffered the

onslaughts of delight and pain without hiding from life.

Each feature of existence, both the beautiful and the tragic,

built up inside her until it became an overwhelming burden.

In almost every instance, she created stability and meaning

in her life by giving expression to her experiences in the

form of a poem.

^The large body of poetry which was created in this way

is a living reflection of her life. Her poetty, like her

daily activity, illustrates the complexity involved in her

enthusiasm for life as well as her intense demand for privacy A

Even though the creative process is next to impossible to

trace, each of Emily Dickinson's poems developed from her

personal experiences and daily life. The emotional tragedies

which repeatedly arose from her personal experiences were

particularly influential in shaping her crisis poems. It

will be the purpose of this study to clarify the relationship

between the tragedies she experienced and the crisis poems

she wrote under their immediate influence or their lasting

memory. It is designed primarily to serve as a basis for

analyzing the relationships between the painful experiences

which Emily Dickinson faced and the creative work in which

she found release and solace.

Emily Dickinson gives her own definition of crisis in

the following poem:

Crisis is a Hair Toward which forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep

To suspend the Breath Is the most we can Ignorant is it Life or Death Nicely balancing.

Let an instant push Or an Atom press Or a Circle hesitate In Circumference

It—may jolt the Hand That adjusts the Hair

That secures Eternity From presenting—Here—^

Crisis is a very tiny, flexible, and weak thread upon which

existence itself is suspended and which is altered by such

minute things as an atom or an instant. Crisis is a state

between life and death, or living death. Emily Dickinson

experienced many such crises in which she existed in living

death, and others in which eternity presented itself to one

she loved.

Emily Dickinson's view of grief is given in this poem:

Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breast For His Shy House— And baffles quest—

Grief is a Thief—quick startled— Pricks His Ear—report to hear Of that Vast Dark— That swept His Being—back—

Grief is a Juggler—boldest at the Play— Lest if He flinch—the eye that way" Pounce on His Bruises—One—say—or Three— Grief is a Gourmand—spare His luxury—

Best grief is Tongueless—before He'll tell— Burn Him in the Public Square— His Ashes—will Possibly—if they refuse—How then know— Since a Rack could'nt coax a syllable—now

(Poems, II, #793, 599-600; 1863)

•'•Emily Dickinson, The Poems of Emily Dickinson, ed. Thomas H. Johnson (Cambridge, Mass., 1955), II, #889, 656— hereafter cited within the text as follows: Poems, volume number, poem number, page number, and date when given.

First, grief is a mouse whose hole is in the paneling of

the heart where he cannot be reached, just as he could not-

be reached in his tiny hole in the wall of a room. Then,

grief is a thief whose being is swept back, whose shadow is

exposed gradually and lengthened as the opening of a door

lets light into the room where he is. Grief is a juggler

and a glutton. Grief is everything devious and disreputable,

but it has one all-important redeeming quality—it is unable

to speak. It can be tortured; it will not tell. It can be

burned at the stake like a martyr; then it certainly cannot

speak. Emily Dickinson could not speak. Her grief was

always real. Her only means of expression was through her

poems, and even these are often so terse that their meaning

evades the reader. They are the expressions of grief and

crisis which illustrate the paradox of her very personal and

yet impersonal poetry of her life.

The use of poems as a means of giving vent to those

feelings which she could not directly share with a fellow

human being began very early in Emily Dickinson's life.

Several of her pcems are the clear reflection of her child-

hood and its experiences.

Emily Dickinson's childhood was spent in the seclusion

of her immediate family, which was dominated by her father.

Edward Dickinson was extremely concerned about his family's

life, even to the minutest details, and he kept rather

strict control over it. He was a man of energy, and was

devoted to what he believed. He lived a life of rigid self-

discipline and seldom shared his inner thoughts with anyone.

He maintained privacy for himself and thereby insured it for

his wife and children. In contrast, Mrs. Dickinson's role

in the family was limited to carrying out her husband's wishes

and to caring for the home. She did not possess a strong

personality and was, therefore, a somewhat ineffectual mother

figure for his children.

Emily Dickinson had an older brother, Austin, and when

she was three, her sister Lavinia was born. Emily, as well

as Austin and Lavinia, always loved her parents and had a

special admiration for her father, but none of the children

could ever feel close to either of their parents in matters

of the heart. On the other hand, Emily did feel very close

to her brother and sister and occasionally trusted them with

her ideas and inner feelings, particularly Lavinia who was

her life-long companion and friend.

Even though Emily Dickinson's childhood was filled with

unhappy experiences, she left no personal record of them.

Therefore it is almost impossible to correlate any of her

poems with specific tragedies of this early period.^ How-

ever, she did write several poems which are definite

reflections of the lonely and secluded aspects of her child-

hood. These feelings grew out of the tragedies she

experienced and her inability to understand the reasons

behind them. She could "not simply accept the heartaches of

life any more than she could the miracles. Her desire to

know the unknowable began at a very early age.

One interesting feature of her early childhood is the

almost continuous absence of her father from home. Edward

Dickinson's acute sense of honor and duty often compelled

him to accept public office even though he preferred to be

with his family. In 1831, he was in Boston serving in the

2

state legislature. Again in 1835, 1837, and 1838, he was

periodically called away from home to serve in public office.

While he was away, he was in constant contact with his family

to inquire about their needs, to instruct his wife on running

the household, and to admonish his children to be good and to

make things pleasant for each other and for their mother.

^Jay Leyda, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (New Haven, 1960), I, 17.

3-

3

Ibid., pp. 27, 35, 38.

8

Certainly, Emily Dickinson felt the absence of her father

during this early stage of her life. Even though Edward

Dickinson's reserved nature probably would not have permit-

ted Emily and his other children to feel truly close to him,

his repeated absence from home may be one reason why they

never could.

Emily Dickinson felt not only the repeated absence of

her father, but the force of illness and death as well.

Each of the following experiences impressed upon her the

innate frailty of life. When Lavinia was born, mother and

child were both ill. Therefore Emily Dickinson went to

Boston to stay with her Aunt Lavinia Norcross, whose love

4

she reciprocated for the rest of her life. Then m 1838,

while her father was in Boston, Emily Dickinson was ill with 5

a severe rash, and Lavinia had the croup. Again xn 1839, g

her grandmother, Sara J. Norcross, was critically ill.

Emily Dickinson was confronted with death when her grand-

7 father, Samuel F. Dickinson, died on April 22, 1838. Then

4Ibid., P- 20.

~*Ibid., P- 45.

6 Ibid., P- 54.

7Ibid., P- 49.

on May 11, 1840, her grandmother, Lucretia G. Dickinson,

8

died. These incidents were only a few of Emily Dickinson's

initiations into the reality that life is a precious and

capricious thing to be valued and guarded each day.

Throughout her life, Emily Dickinson loved children.

Her attachment to individual children, even in the almost

complete seclusion of her later years, attests to the joy

she derived from the very young. Also her letters illus-

trate that she wished to hold on to childhood and that she

maintained the imagination and enthusiasm for life which

are the most outstanding characteristics of children. A

trait especially attributed to children and which Emily

Dickinson herself possessed to an outstanding degree is

expressed in this poem:

It troubled me as once I was —

For I was once a Child— Concluding how an Atom—fell— And yet the Heavens—held— The Heavens weighed the most—by far— Yet Blue—and solid—stood— Without a Bolt—that I could prove— Would Giants—understand?

Life set me larger—problems— Some I shall keep—to solve Till Algebra is easier— Or simpler proved—above—

8 Ibid., pp. 61-62.

10

Then—too—be comprehended— What sorer—puzzled me— Why Heaven did not break away— And tumble—Blue—on me—

(Poems, XX, #600, 460; 1862)

Emily Dickinson reflects on the questioning attitude of

childhood. She questioned everything, and she very often

wanted to know the answers to questions that had no answers.

Here she states that it troubled and worried her why an

atom, one tiny particle of the heavens such as a rain drop

or a falling star, weighing a minute amount in comparison

to the whole, could fall; and yet the entire heavens, held

by nothing she could see and weighing a great deal more,

never fell on her. She wonders if giants, adults in the

eyes of a child, can understand the paradox. Now that she

too is an adult, she experiences more important problems

which she will spend a lifetime solving until all questions

are answered and all problems solved above, in Heaven. Then

too, her childhood questions will be answered.

Another characteristic attitude of childhood is con-

tained in poem #874,:

They wont frown always—some sweet Day When I forget to teaze— They'll recollect how cold I looked And how I just said "Please."

11

Then They will hasten to the Door To call the little Girl Who cannot thank Them for the Ice That filled the lisping full.

(Poems, II, #874, 649? 1864)

"They," probably adults, are displeased with the child and

are frowning at her. However, some day, they will not

frown any more. When she is no longer there to tease them,

to ask for the treat, they will be sorry, remembering how

she said please. The picture is of a small child who has

been asked if she wanted an ice cream, said please in reply,

was given one, and immediately started eating it. In her-

eagerness, she has neglected to say thank you. When she

remembers to do so, her mouth is too full of the ice cream,

which she must continue to lick to keep from getting it on

her. The adults consider her rude when she is only eager.

The poem-embodies the childish attitude that "they will be

sorry when I am dead," expressed by every child who feels

he has been mistreated or misunderstood.

On a more profound level, death left an impression on

Emily Dickinson which grew ever more intense with the passing

years. She could not understand it in her childhood, and

she could not accept it as a release into a better world

when she was an adult. In a later poem, she explains her

childhood impression of death?

12

I noticed People disappeared When but a little child— Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild--Now know I—They both visted And settled Regions wild But did because they died A Fact withheld the little child—

(Poems, II, #1149, 805; 1869)

Because of the relative lack of medical knowledge and

effective preventive measures against illness, death was

an even more common occurrence in Emily Dickinson's child-

hood than it is today. Emily Dickinson was certainly old

enough to be aware of the death of her grandfather in 1838,

and of her grandmother in 1840. In this poem, she states

that she realized people disappeared when she was only a

child but that she thought that they were only visiting

somewhere remote and wild, which would describe any region

outside of the child's immediate surroundings or scope of

travel, which in Emily Dickinson's case was extremely

limited. She could not conceive that they would never

return. Now, however, she realizes they definitely did

settle wild regions, but did so because they were compelled

to by death. A wild region is not a particularly favorable

description of Heaven, especially since this term is repeated

by the mature Emily Dickinson reflecting on past attitudes.

13

The last sentence exemplifies the protective home in which

Emily Dickinson lived. The fact that the people had died

was withheld, probably intentionally, from the child.

The following poem gives a nostalgic view of childhood

problems in that they were so easily solved in comparison

with problems faced later in life. The poem has not been

specifically dated, but it was probably written after 1886,

in the last year of Emily Dickinson's life;

Softened by Time's consummate plush, How sleek the woe appears That threatened childhood's citadel And undermined the years.

Bisected now, by bleaker griefs, We envy the despair That devastated childhood's realm,

So easy to repair.

(Poems, III, #1738, 1169)

The griefs that threatened childhood's fortress and made the

years less happy than they should have been, have been

softened by the power of time to bring everything to comple-

tion. New woes have now cut the adult in half with more

intense and heartbreaking grief. The adult can no longer

feel the old griefs. In fact, she envies these past griefs

in comparison to the horrible tragedies she must face today.

Even though each of the old pains had the power to destroy

the child's world, each was very easily made right or

14

nullified by time. The poem exemplifies Emily Dickinson's

love of childhood and her desire to remain under its pro-

tection.

Each of the poems clarifies some facet of Emily

Dickinson's experiences as a child or of her attitude con-

cerning childhood. The following poem illustrates her love

for her home and the fact that she thought of it as a. place

of safety and protection, an attitude she held throughout

her life:

Through lane it lay—thro' bramble—

Through clearing and thro' wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.

The wolf came peering curious— The owl looked puzzled down— The serpent's satin figure Glid stealthily along—

The tempests touched our garments— The lightning's poinards gleamed— Fierce from the Crag above us The hungry Vulture screamed—

The satyrs fingers beckoned— The valley murmured "Come"— These were the mates— This was the road These children fluttered home.

(Poems, I, #9, 11-12; 1858)

The poem gives a comprehensive and fanciful survey of the

life of childhood, more particularly of the road which

15

Emily Dickinson traveled as a child. The road lay through

clear lanes of happiness part of the time and through

bramble infested forests of make-believe dangers part of the

time. The poem deals primarily with the imagined troubles

and griefs of childhood. The dangers surrounded them, and

the storms even came close enough to touch their garments-—

to be close enough to be extremely real, but incapable of

penetrating through their clothing and actually hurting them.

The projections and sparks of lightning illuminated the

scene so that they could see the vulture, insatiable in his

hunger, scream in delight at the prospect of feasting on

them. The pleasures of riotous and carefree living called

to them as did the valley, which has the connotation of the

Biblical valley of the shadow of death, or damnation. The

use of the "Come" seems to be taken from Matthew 11:28 when

Christ said, "come unto me. . . Here, however, the one

who calls is the opposite of Christ. However "These" mates,

meaning Austin, Lavinia, and she, retreat home to safety and

protection from the onslaughts of the world. Home was always

a place where one could find seclusion from the danger and

loneliness that constituted life in the outside world, even

if these dangers were imaginary. The flight was even more

thrilling and the refuge warmer and safer because of the

16

sheer joy in running away from a pretended danger. If the

danger were real, and the retreat forced, the hideout could

not be as secure, or as free from threat.

Emily Dickinson's childhood held the problems and heart-

aches common to every child—loneliness, illness, and death.

However, her nature intensified all of the painful experiences

as well as the happy ones and left a more lasting impression

than would have been created otherwise. Furthermore Emily

Dickinson left a record, as no one else could have, of her

attitudes and impressions of these experiences in her poetry.

CHAPTER II

THE TRAGEDIES OF ADOLESCENCE

1842-1852

The major emotional upheavel of Emily Dickinson's

adolescence was her acute struggle with formal Christianity,

first apparent in 1846 in her letters to biah Root, and

lasting throughout life. This conflict was intensified by

her repeated separations from her family, particularly

Austin, and from Susan Gilbert, Austin's future wife. These,

in turn, were accentuated by other griefs.

In April of 1842, Austin entered Williston Seminary at

Easthampton.1 Even though he admired his father a great

deal, Austin differed sharply from Edward Dickinson. The

major point of contrast was Austin's gift of lively conversa-

tion, quick wit, and thorough enjoyment of anything funny.

He was the one with whom Emily most loved to share a joke.

His absence made the house seem very dull. Emily missed

him a great deal and took it upon herself to write him all

of the family news. She did so every time Austin was away.

Ijay Leyda, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (New Haven, 1960), I, 17.

17

18

Edward Dickinson sent his son only occasional notes of

instruction, Mrs. Dickinson rarely ever wrote at all, and

Lavinia. only made requests or gave advice in her letters.

Emily Dickinson faced another tragedy in May of 1842,

when the four-year-old daughter of her Aunt Lavinia. Norcross

2

died. However, when Sophia Holland died on April 3, 1844,

Emily experienced her first personal contact with death.^

Sophia Holland was only fifteen when she died, and she and

Emily had been very close friends. Emily insisted on visit-

ing her when she was on her death bed. On March 28, 1846, Emily Dickinson wrote another friend, Abiah Root, about the

4

experience. She told Abiah that when she looked on Sophia's

face, lit up with an unearthly smile, she could not cry be-

cause her heart was too full. She was suffocated by the

experience and fell into a fixed state of melancholy when

Sophia was buried. However, her nature did not allow her

to explain the reason for her depression, and her family

could not revive her. Therefore, they sent her to stay with

her Aunt Lavinia in Boston. She explains to Abiah the recu-

perative value of this visit by stating that she was not

happy but at least content.

^Ibid., p. 77. ^Ibid./ p. 15.

^Ibid., p. 15.

19

Emily Dickinson probably wrote several poems over a

period of years as the result of Sophia Holland's death.

We do not have any written immediately after the death, for

the dated poems do not even begin until 1851, several years

after the experience. However, it would be very natural for

Emily, who never forgot the loss of a. friend, to write a

poem about the tragedy years after it happened. In fact,

each additional loss only made the previous ones more acute

in her memory. It is evident from the letter to Abiah two

years after Sophia's death that the tragedy was fresh and

vivid in Emily Dickinson's mind.

Poem #144 pictures the death of a young woman after a

protracted illness such as that of Sophias

She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Till pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.

Till Daffodils had come and gone I cannot tell the sum, And then she ceased to bear it— And with the Saints sat down.

No more her patient figure At twilight soft to meet— No more her timid bonnet Upon the village street—

But Crowns instead, and Courtiers— And in the midst so fair, Whose but her shy—immortal face Of whom we're whispering here?

(Poems, I, #144, 103-4; 1859)

20

The girl has suffered for an extended period until the

veins on her hands stand out clear blue against her white

skin. Then, as if pleading for release, the veins around

her patient eyes stand out in an even more brilliant purple,

as if traced with a crayon, a possession of the young.

Finally, she could bear it no longer and went to Heaven.

Now, it will no longer be possible for the author to meet

her at the end of the day to share her thoughts. She will

no longer meet the timid girl in the village streets as she

was accustomed to doing. Instead, the shy, immortal girl

is with the courtiers of Heaven. The meaning is clear when

interpreted in light of Sophia Holland's death, since there

were no other deaths before the writing of the poem to which

it can be so clearly correlated. The unearthly smile on

Sophia's face when Emily visited her sounds a great deal like

the description of the girl in the poem dying of a consump-

tive illness. Also, the wording of the poem such as "Crayons,"

"timid," and "shy" denote a young person. The relationship

mentioned in the poem of meeting at twilight for sharing

secrets and plans and of accidentally meeting each other on

the village streets could easily be a picture of Emily's

relationship with Sophia Holland.

21

Closely connected with the sharply awakening experience

of her friend's death is Emily Dickinson's questioning,

rebellious, and nagging conflict with formal Christianity.

Even as a child, she had wanted to know the reasons for every-

thing. As an adolescent, she was thrown into a situation in

which the majority of her friends and acquaintances were

accepting Christ and joining the established church. Emily

believed in God, but she found it impossible to love the

vengeful, damning God who was preached from the pulpits not

only in Amherst, but everywhere she went. Her inner conflict

found expression in her letters to Abiah Root, the friend

she met soon after Sophia's death.

Even at this early period of her life, Emily Dickinson

clung to her friends to an intense degree and was always

looking for the right person, the friend she could love and

trust. In one of her letters, Emily Dickinson reminds her

friend of how she very unceremoniously introduced herself

when Abiah had just arrived in Amherst. She sought out

Abiah who was then to be her trusted friend for several

important years. The friendship lasted, at least by corre-

spondence, until 1851, and the focal point of this friendship

^Ibid., p. 87,

22

was that Abiah served as Emily Dickinson's confidante in

her struggle with the established church, as shown through

letters which began in January of 1846. In almost every

one, Emily Dickinson laments the fact that she cannot accept

Christianity. She feels that she cannot give up the world

even though she knows that no one can be truly happy without

doing so and accepting Christ. She even felt that she had

found Christ at one time and was extremely happy, but she

was lured back into the world. On March 28, 1846, Emily

wrote Abiah a letter in which she explains Sophia Holland's

death and in which she graphically describes the situation

she was in over her confrontation with Christianity. (Letters,

I, 30-33) She says that she feels she is sailing and that at

any moment her boat may go over an "awful precipice," an

image repeated in poem #1545 as a "distinguished Precipice."

With their correspondence, Emily Dickinson continues her

explanation of her emotions in face of her conflict, which

she discusses with no one else, not even her brother or

sister. Then on May 16, 1848, she wrote Abiah another letter

announcing that it was to be her last term at Mt. Holyoke

Emily Dickinson, The Letters of Emily Dickinson, ed. Thomas H. Johnson (Cambridge, Mass., 1958), I, 26-29— hereafter cited in the text as follows: Letters, the volume number, and the page number.

23

Seminary. (Letters, I, 65-68) She laments the fact that

while she has been here she has "neglected the one thing

needful" (Luke 10:42), and that she will never have another

opportunity like the one she has had. However, it is still

too hard for her to give up the world. Her statement proved

true in that Emily Dickinson was the only person in her

family who never became a church member. Her conflict with

religious cant and the New England personification of God

lasted throughout her life, and she wrote some very pointed

poems reflecting her attitude.

One of the earliest poems in which she reflects her

state of inner unrest follows:

Soul, Wilt thou toss again? By just such a. hazard Hundreds have lost indeed— But tens have won an all—

Angels' breathless ballot Lingers to record thee— Imps in eager Caucus Raffle for my SoulI

(Poems, I, #139, 99; 1859)

The poem presents an incident in the conflict of the soul.

It is upset, unsettled, and the author states that as a

result of this same situation, hundreds of people have lost

their immortal souls. However, tens have won all, eternal

life. The discrepancy between hundreds and tens indicates

24

that Emily Dickinson knew that relatively few people would

successfully come through the same conflict in which she

was engaged. The poem goes on to state that angels breath-

lessly wait to record her name in the book of eternal life.

However imps, devils, raffle for her soul at the same time.

The odds are not very good.

Throughout her life, Emily Dickinson could believe there

was a God, but she could not accept the doctrine taught about

Him in the churches of New England. She was repeatedly

denouncing some phase of this doctrine in her poetry. The

following poem concisely states her view of Christianity at

a period in her life when she had become more objective in

her attitude:

The Bible is an antique Volume—

Written by faded Men At the suggestion of Holy Spectres— Subjects—Bethlehem— Eden—the ancient Homestead— Satan—the Brigadier— Judas—the Great Defaulter— David—the Troubadour— Sin—a distinguished Precipice Others must resist— Boys that "believe" are very lonesome— Other Boys are "lost"— Had but the Tale a warbling Teller— All the Boys would come— Orpheus' Sermon captivated— It did not condemn—

(Poems, III, #1545, 1065-56; 1879)

25

The Bible is an outdated book, written by men who are faded

and who were guided by holy ghosts. The subjects of the book

are the birth of the Savior, the lost paradise, the devil,

Judas's betrayal, and David's glory. The book is also about

sin, which Emily Dickinson refers to once again as a precipice,

which must be strictly avoided. Boys, children in the sense

that all men are the children of God, who accept the book as

true and therefore accept Christ, are saved—but they are

very lonely. They are outcasts of the world because so many

other boys refuse to believe and are lost, or condemned to

hell. These do not avoid the precipice of sin. However, if

the story only had a charming, interesting teller instead

of this ineffective book everyone, all of the boys, would

believe. Orpheus, the greatest singer and musician in Greek

mythology, captivated his audience, and everyone listened.

However, the Bible makes the mistake of condemning, thereby

driving away more people than it saves.

George F. Whicher states that the poem was sent to Ned,

Emily Dickinson's nephew, in 1882 as a dramatization of the

7

young man's contempt for self-righteous piety. Even though

this is true and the poem is written in a bantering, mocking

7 George Frisbie Whicher, This Was A Poet (New York, 1939),

p. 155.

26

tone, it nevertheless illustrates Emily Dickinson's attitude

toward formal Christianity. The original idea was formed

into a rough draft three years earlier. In 1882, when she

put the poem in its final form, she probably saw, in Ned,

herself and her own resentment in the face of the overpower-

ing demands and hypocrisy involved in the organized church.

Now, she is simply able to detach herself from the hot

resentment and laugh, or tease, about the futility of the

established church. The poem gives a brief account of

Emily Dickinson's prevailing attitude about formal Christ-

ianity, which was to have a significant influence over her

reactions to the tragedies and conflicts of her life. In

fact, since her confrontation with Christianity formed the

dominant basis of Emily Dickinson's attitude toward life, it

is necessary to understand this conflict in order to compre-

hend her reactions to her daily experiences.

Emily Dickinson's reactions and attitudes were also

influenced by the fact that she was always very passionate

in her friendships and gave herself up completely to loving

and trusting the few she singled out to be her friends. Con-

sequently, she was often hurt by the loss of a friend, either

through death or betrayal. In October of 1848, Emily

Dickinson began to realize that Abiah Root was not the friend

27

she had seemed to be. Emily wrote to Abiah asking her if

she were no longer her friend and saying that Abiah must

write and tell her since she had tried to forget Abiah but

could not. The friendship was renewed off and on for

several years, but it was no longer a true friendship.

Emily Dickinson had already lost another precious possession

in whose memory she was to write a poem several years later.

However, Emily Dickinson clung to the friendship for

awhile, and in 1850, she renewed her correspondence with

Abiah. At this time, Lavinia was away at school in Ipswich,

q

and Emily was forced to do all of the chores herself. Then

in May of 1850, Emily's mother was taken ill with "Acute

Neuralgia,and Emily was confined to the house to wait on

her mother and to do most of the household chores. This

confinement deeply hurt her. On May 7, she began a letter

to Abiah Root which she finally had time to finish on the

seventeenth. (Letters, I, 97-99) Here, she tells Abiah of

her confinement and states that a special friend called to

ask her to ride in the woods and that she especially wanted

to go but could not. Instead, she won a "helpless victory,"

®Leyda, I, 163-165.

9Ibid., p. 175.

28

stayed home, cried, and felt extremely cheated. Her letters

to Jane Humphrey during this period contain the same type

of emotional upset against the restrictive quality of her

life. The attitude is exemplified in the following poem:

It would have starved a Gnat—

To live so small as I — And yet I was a living Child— With Food's necessity

Upon me—like a Claw— I could no more remove Than I could coax a Leech away— Or make a Dragon—move—

Nor like the Gnat—had I — The privilege to fly And seek a Dinner for myself— How mightier He—than I —

Nor like Himself—the Art Upon the Window Pane To gad my little Being out—

And not begin—again—

(Poems, II, #612, 471; 1862)

A gnat, one of the smallest of animals, would have starved

to death if it had been forced to live as she was, and yet

she was a child who definitely had to have food. The need

held her in a vise which she could in no way remove. Further-

more, she did not have the gnat's power to fly about and

obtain sustenance. She was confined, probably at home caring

for her mother, and was, therefore, much weaker than the gnat.

Also, the gnat had the power to waste away his life on a

29

window pane and never have to begin over again, whereas she

could not even put an end to her unhappy life. The poem

indicates that the author felt cheated and possibly even

somewhat bitter when she reflected on this period of her

life. However, Emily Dickinson later learned to live a full,

complete life within narrow limits.

Emily Dickinson's loneliness was compounded by the

absence of Austin, who left in September of 1850 to teach

in Boston. Even though he was unhappy teaching, Austin

returned to Boston again in 1851 to fulfill his commitment.

On October 17, 1851, Emily wrote a letter to him in which

she enclosed the poem, "There is another sky," in which

she tried to comfort him in his loneliness away from home:

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields— Here is a little forest, Whose leaf is ever green? Here is a brighter garden. Where not a frost has been? In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum; Prithee, my brother, Into my_ garden come!

(Poems, I, #2, 2-3; 1851)

10 Ibid., p. ix.

30

While he was away from home, Emily Dickinson wished to remind

her brother that no matter what the conditions in Boston

that he must endure, such as darkness and faded forests, there

was still home where everything was bright and green. She

tells him that the beauty and peace here is eternal and

invites him to enter her garden. Emily and Austin were very

close, and she could not see him unhappy or lonely without

trying to comfort him. Any and every time he was away from

home, she would count the days until he returned and write

to him regularly, wishing he were already at home.

In November of 1851, Austin returned to Amherst, at his

father's request, to vote. On November 11, just after Austin

had left, his sister wrote him a letter in which she tells

how much she missed him and how very lonely she was without

him. She also comments on the restrictive quality of her

life and how easily she felt she could give it up altogether.

She states that she "could pack this little earthly bundle,

and bidding the world Goodbye, fly away and away, and never

11

come back again to be so lonely here." The same statement

is made in poem #486:

13-Ibid., 223.

31

I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Book— And one Geranium—

So stationed I could catch the Mint That never ceased to fall— . And just my Basket— Let me think—I'm sure That this was all—

I never spoke—unless addressed— And then, 'twas brief and low— I could not bear to live—aloud— The Racket shamed me so—

And if it had not been so far— And any one I knew Were going—I had often thought How noteless-I could die—

(Poems, I, #486, 371-2; 1862)

She felt that she was the most insignificant person in the

world, to judge by the way she lived. She occupied the small-

est room in the house, and the lines "So stationed I could

catch the Mint/That never ceased to fall" give the connotation

that she seldom journeyed from that room. The falling mint

was probably the printed wall paper. She never even ventured

to speak unless someone spoke to her first because the noise

of her insignificant voice shamed and embarrassed her. If

the journey had not been so long and if there had been any-

one going whom she knew, she would have often been willing

to quietly die. The poem has many other connotations,

32

especially that of her definition of herself as a poet.

Nevertheless, it also describes the limitations of her life

at this time.

Closely connected with her intense love for and com-

panionship with Austin, Emily Dickinson loved his fiancee,

Susan Gilbert. Susan was a charming woman, but her charm

did not always sustain itself among her intimate friends.

She possessed a wit that was often very sharp and unrelenting,

It is evident from her letters that Emily Dickinson loved

Sue very much, and in the beginning of their relationship

endowed her with qualities which Sue never possessed. Emily

always passionately embraced those she loved; and, at least

at first, she truly loved and cherished Sue. During 1852,

Sue was away from Amherst teaching, and she and Emily

corresponded, with the latter doing most of the writing. On

February 22, 1852, Emily wrote Susan a letter in which she

stated that her reason completely left her when she thought

of those she loved. She feared that she would have to be

locked up in an insane asylum in order to keep her from

injuring her loved ones, particularly Sue. (Letters, I, 182)

A person of Susan Gilbert's temperament would eventually

feel suffocated by a relationship of this intensity. It is i

obvious from her letters that Emily Dickinson was often hurt

33

by Sue's responses to her expressions of love. Neverthe-

less, Emily continued in her ardent love for Sue for several

years.

Susan's absence intensified Emily Dickinson's feelings

of confinement and loneliness during this period of her

life. She frequently depended upon Sue for comfort, espe-

cially since her friendship with Abiah Root had come to an

end. In the early part of December, 1852, Emily Dickinson

wrote to Susan stating that "I regret to inform you that at

3 oclock yesterday, my mind came to a stand, and has since

then been stationary." (Letters, I, 216-17) The letter is

signed "Judah," the possible meanings of which are so many

that it cannot be stated what Emily Dickinson definitely

meant by the signature. However, Judah was the brother who

saved Joseph's life by persuading his other brothers to sell

him to the Ishmeelites rather than kill him. Even though

this was their intention, the Midianites actually carried

out the act. (Genesis 37:26-28) Joseph was sold for twenty

pieces of silver, and Christ was later sold for thirty.

(Matthew 27:3) Therefore, the reference may be to betrayal

and the fact that Emily Dickinson felt betrayed. The wording

and connotation of the letter are echoed in the following

poem, which was written over ten years later in 1865:

34

I've dropped my Brain—My Soul is numb— The Veins that used to run Stop palsied—'tis Paralysis Done perfecter on stone..

Vitality is Carved and cool. My nerve in Marble lies— A Breathing Woman Yesterday—Endowed with Paradise.

Not dumb—I had a sort that moved— A Sense that smote and stirred— Instincts for Dance—a caper part— An Aptitude for Bird—

Who wrought Carrara in me And chiselled all my tune Were it a Witchcraft—were it Death— I've still a chance to strain

To Being, somewhere—Motion—Breath— Though Centuries beyond, And every limit a Decade—

I'll shiver, satisfied.

(Poems, II, #1046, 739-40; 1865)

The poem begins by describing a state of mental stupor, or

living death. She has dropped all thought and all feeling

is gone. It is as if she were paralyzed stone in its state

of carved coolness. The nerve, the feeling agents, are

cast in marble now, whereas she was a vital woman yesterday,

blessed with happiness. Yesterday, she was the opposite of

numb. She was alive and ready for a dance or an adventure

or a song. She cannot tell who or what cast her in marble

and killed her song. She says it really does not matter be-

cause there is still the chance that she can strain her way

35

to real life somewhere, even though it may be centuries

away and every barrier ten years. As long as there is a

chance for feeling and life, she will be happy to shiver

on; to be able to react at all would be preferable to

numbness. The poem expresses the feeling of total empti-

ness that a person feels from a more mature point of view.

All is not lost; there is still life somewhere, and it is

worth all of the endurance necessary to reach it. Except

for the lack of hope present here, a similar image of

living death is given in poem #341, "After great pain, a

formal feeling comes—," discussed in Chapter V. S

This feeling of emptiness, loneliness, and confinement

was intensified for Emily Dickinson because she could not

express her true feelings to anyone. She was alone in this

respect. Whenever she found a friend in whom she could

confide, like Abiah Root, the friendship was destined to

end. When her friendship with Abiah was lost to her, Emily

had Susan to love and idolize; but when this friendship

cooled, she was again alone. The idea is stated in this

poem:

I never lost as much but twice,

And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of GodI

36

Angels—twice descending Reimbursed my store— Burglar I Banker—Father J I am poor once more J

(Poems, I, #49, 38; 1858)

The poem states that she has never lost as much as she

now has except twice before, and those losses were to the

grave. She was then a beggar before the door of God. How-

ever, the angels reimbursed her loss, but now, that too is

gone. She is poor again. The poem is a terse statement

of the loss of four of Emily Dickinson's friends. The first

two, who were lost to death, are probably Sophia Holland-_

and Benjamin P. Newton, who was a law student in her father's

office for two years. George Frisbie Whicher states that

the two losses are Newton and Leonard Humphrey, who was a

12

teacher Emily Dickinson greatly admired. However, she

never mentions Humphrey in her letters after the actual

occurrence of his death, whereas she does reflect upon Sophia

Holland's death several years after the event. Even though

Newton was in the true sense her teacher, the poem does not

deal with four teachers, but with four cherished friends

whom she has lost. Even though the first two losses could

not be erased, she was pacified, calmed, by having Abiah Root

l^Whicher, pp. 91-92.

37

for a friend. Also Susan Gilbert returned her love at first

and served an a.n outlet for Emily Dickinson's compassion and

trust. However, these two are also lost to her, even though

it is not to the grave this time. The sttprehouse of her

wealth, her friends, seems empty to her now. However, at

this time Emily Dickinson was already maturing to the state

where she would decide the level and degree of her friend-

ships by conducting them almost exclusively through her

correspondence, thereby obtaining sustenance and inspiration

while shielding herself from the pain of loss.

CHAPTER III

THE LOSS OF TWO FRIENDS

1853-1859

On March 24, 1853, Benjamin Franklin Newton died.'*" The

terseness of Emily Dickinson's statement to Austin, the only

person she could confide in, at the time of Newton's death

testifies to the intensity of pain she suffered with his

complete loss. The blow was even more severe because Emily

Dickinson did not fully realize his value to her until his

death.

Benjamin F. Newton was a law student in Edward

2

Dickinson's office for two years. During these two years,

ending in August of 1849,^ Newton, who was nine years older

than Emily and very intelligent, broadened her reading

habits and encouraged her in writing poetry. He was the

first person to recognize her poetic power and to admonish

her to develop it. His most important influence on her, or

Ijay Leyda, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (New Haven, 1960), I, 17.

O "'Thomas H. Johnson, Emily Dickinson, An Interpretive

Biography (Cambridge, Mass., 1955), p. 72.

3 Leyda, I, v m .

38

39

contribution to her art, was probably the fact that he made

it seem truly possible for her to be a poet. Because he

was the first to touch the well-spring of her genius and to

praise her work, he became a source of inspiration. How-

ever, even though she later recognized his importance to

her, Emily Dickinson probably took Newton's friendship more

or less for granted while he was in Amherst, and it- is

doubtful that he was anything other than her preceptor and

friend. Only after he left, and especially in later years,

did she come to consider him her earliest friend and the

one who taught her "Immortality."4 He could not have taught

her a greater lesson, and his death was a loss which she

never forgot. Even ten months after his death, her grief

and shock were still so intense that she wrote his minister,

Reverend Edward Everett Hale, to inquire whether or not

Newton's death was peaceful and if he were willing to accept

death. She wanted to know if this man who had taught her

"that sublime lesson, a faith in things unseen, and in life

again, nobler, and much more blessed" had achieved such a

life and was now in Heaven.5 She had loved Newton a great

4lbid., p. 144.

5Ibid., p. 158.

40

deal and would always remember him and the lessons he so

effectively, gravely, and kindly taught her.

References to Newton and his influence over her are

numerous in Emily Dickinson's letters years after the event

of his death. On the ninth anniversary of his death, March,

1862, Emily Dickinson sent a brief note along with a poem

to her sister-in-law, Susan Dickinson. The note was

addressed to Sue and said only, "You see I remember."^ This

poem accompanied the note:

Your Riches—taught me--Poverty. Myself—a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could boast Till broad as Buenos Ayre—

You drifted your Dominions— A Different Peru— And I esteemed All Poverty For Life's Estate with you—

Of Mines, I little know—myself— But just the names, .of Gems— The Colors of the Commonest— And scarce of Diadems—

So much, that did I meet the Queen--Her Glory I should know— But this, must be a different Wealth— To miss it—beggars so—

I'm sure 'tis India—all Day— To those who look on You— Without a stint—without a blame, Might I—but be the Jew—

^Emily Dickinson, The Poems of Emily Dickinson, ed. Thomas H. Johnson (Cambridcre. Mass?.. T OON

41

I'm sure it is Golconda— Beyond my power to deem— To have a smile for Mine—each Day, How better, than a Gem! *

At least, it solaces to know That there exists—a Gold— Altho' I prove it, just in time Its distance—to behold—

It's far—far Treasure to surmise— And estimate the Pearl— That slipped my simple fingers through—

While just a Girl at School.

(Poems, I, #299, 218-19; 1862)

The poem states that the person addressed in the first line

has taught her what true wealth is and made her riches seem

like poverty in comparison. She states that she knows only

enough about precious stones to recognize the glory of a

person who wears them. However, the wealth she now under-

stands must be a great deal different from and more important

than the wealth of precious jewels because the lack of this

new type of wealth has truly beggared her. She continues to

say that she knows it must be glory and wealth every day to

those who can look upon him, without guilt or limit involved.

She only wishes that she might have the minutest part, might

be the Jew, who knew how to value his treasures whereas she

had failed to do so. She is sure that it would be Golconda,

an Indian city known for its wealth and diamond cutting, -just

to have a smile from him for her own each day. It would be

42

far better than a gem. Although she cannot possess even

his smile, it gives her comfort to know that there is such

a wealth as his, even though she recognizes it in time only

to see how far it is from her reach. All she can do now is

estimate, guess at, the value of the pearl that slipped

through her fingers when she said "just a girl at school."

Even though she was twenty-three at the time, she was a

school girl in that she was too inexperienced to correctly

value her treasure.

The pearl was Benjamin F. Newton, whom she knew when

she was still very young and very impressionable, like a

school girl. The wealth she speaks of in the poem is

probably the lessons that Newton taught her and, thereby,

his personal value as a precious stone. He taught her what

to read, what authors to like, how to believe in what she

7

could not see, and how to understand immortality. For

Emily Dickinson, these things would constitute a wealth

more vital than that of precious gems.

Another poem which Emily Dickinson wrote in Newton's

memory is # 360; Death sets a Thing significant The Eye had hurried by Except a perished Creature Entreat us tenderly

Leyda., I, 158.

43

To ponder little Workmanships In Crayon, or in Wool, With "This was last Her fingers did"— Industrious until—

The Thimble weighed too heavy— The stitches stopped—themselves— And then 'twas put among the Dust Upon the Closet shelves—

A Book I have—a friend gave— Whose Pencil—here and there— Had notched the place that pleased Him-At Rest—His fingers are—

Now—when I read—I read not— For interrupting Tears— Obliterate the Etchings Too Costly for Repairs.

(Poems, I, #360, 286-87? 1862)

The poem states that death makes something extremely

important which otherwise would be passed over without

recognition. It gives the example of a piece of needle-

work a girl had begun before her death which now lies,

being covered with dust, on the closet shelf. She says

that she has a book which a friend gave her with his pencil

notations in it. Now, this friend is at rest, dead, and

these notations are extremely significant. She tries to

read them but cannot because of the tears which blind her

and then fall on the book, blotting out the notes which are

irreplaceable because of the writer's death. In January of

1850, Emily Dickinson wrote a letter to Jane Humphrey in

44

which she told her that Newton had sent her a letter and a

copy of Emerson's poems. (Letters, I, 82-83) This is

Q

probably the book which is mentioned in the poem. Emily

Dickinson cherished the book for itself as well as for its

sender. Shortly before his death, Newton wrote to Emily

Dickinson telling her that he would come to Amherst if he

9

lived and certainly would if he died. She did not realize

that he was trying to tell her he was dying until it happened.

Therefore the news of his death was a great shock to her. On

March 27, 1853, Emily wrote a letter to Austin, the last line

of which reads: "Oh Austin, Newton is dead. The first of my

own friends." (Letters, I, 236) She was once more confronted

with death, but this time,, she was even more upset because

she was aware of what death meant. The request for knowledge

Emily Dickinson made of Edward Everett Hale, Newton's pastor,

(Letters, I, 282) is repeated in almost identical terms in

poem #622;

To know just how He suffered—would be dear— To know if any Human eyes were near To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze— Until it settled broad—on Paradise—

®Johnson, Poems. I, 287.

Q

Leyda, I, 264.

45

To know if He was patient—part content— Was Dying as He thought—or different— Was it a pleasant Day to die— And did the Sunshine face His. way—

What was His furthest mind—Of Home—or God— Or what the Distant say— At news that He ceased Human Nature Such a Day—

And Wishes—Had He Any— Just His Sigh—Accented— Had been legible—to Me— And was He Confident until 111 fluttered out—in Everlasting Well—

And if He spoke—What name was Best— What last What One broke off with At the Drowsiest—

Was He afraid—or tranquil— Might He know How Conscious Consciousness—could grow— Till Love that was—and Love too best to be— Meet—and the Junction be Eternity

(Poems, II, #622, 478-79; 1862)

The poem is a request for the details of a friend's death.

The author says that it would be dear to her to know

exactly how his life ended. She wants to know if there

were people near him whom he loved enough to entrust his

gaze to until it settled permanently on Heaven. She asks

if he were patient and at least partly content to be dying.

Was death what he had thought, and what he had told her, or

was it something different and strange to him? She inquires

46

about him. At the very moment of death, the furthest point

when he could think, were his thoughts of home, this earth,

or were they of God, eternity, and Heaven. She wonders if

he might have been thinking about what his friends who were

not there would say when they heard that he was dead. She

asks if he had any wishes. Then she states that she would

have been able to understand even his sigh if only she

could have heard it. The poem continues with requests for

information. However, it is basically a plea to know that

her friend was confident in reaching Heaven and, therefore,

peaceful in approaching death. The poem certainly applies

to Newton's death. The fact that it was written nine years

after his death, just as the poem "Your Riches—taught me--

Poverty" was, simply documents Emily Dickinson's depth of

feeling and faithfulness to those she loved.

The same month in which Newton died, Emily Dickinson

wrote to Susan Gilbert, who was again away from Amherst,

asking her to write. Then on March 23, 1853, Lavinia wrote

to Austin saying that while Sue was in Manchester, she wrote

Emily only one short letter. She continues to say that this

neglect on Susan's part has made Emily very unhappy and has

been a source of annoyance for herself.The situation was

10Leyda., I, 265,

47

repeated in 1854 when Susan Gilbert was again away. This

time, Emily Dickinson gave her other friends the impression

that she had heard from Sue, when actually she had not. In

August, 1854, she wrote Susan a letter in which she says that

maybe they can forgive each other. (Letters, I, 304) They

disagreed about many things, and Susan's repeated neglect

hurt Emily. Finally, later in the year Emily wrote Sue

another letter in which she says Sue might go if she wished.

(Letters, I, 305) She makes the statement that "I often

part with things I fancy I have loved,—sometimes to the

grave, and sometimes to an oblivion rather bitterer than

death." The lines echo the meaning of the poem, "I never

lost as much but twice," which has already been discussed.

However, in this letter, Emily Dickinson included another

poem;

I have a Bird in spring . ~ Which for myself doth sing—

The spring decoys. And as the summer nears— And as the Rose appears, Robin is gone.

Yet do I not repine Knowing that Bird of mine Though flown— Learneth beyond the sea Melody new for me And will return.

48

Fast in a safer hand Held in a truer Land Are mine— And though they now depart, Tell I my doubting heart They're thine.

In a serener Bright, In a more golden light I see Each little doubt and fear Each little discord here Removed.

Then will I not repine. Knowing that Bird of mine Though flown Shall, in a distant tree Bright melody for me Return.

(Poems, I, #5, 708; 1854)

The poem is a statement of the strained condition of Emily

Dickinson's friendship with Susan Dickinson, her feelings

that things will surely be settled, and they will once more

be friends, and finally her belief that she has other friends

in a brighter world. The poem begins by saying that she has

a bird, a friend, which is true to her, but the spring ends

and summer calls the bird away, new things appear to draw

the friend away. It. is the ending of one time of year and

the beginning of a new, just as it is the ending of their

friendship and a beginning of a new one for her friend. How-

ever, she will not be upset because her friend, though gone

49

now, will learn new things from her experience and return

with them to her; the flown bird will learn a new melody to

sing to her. She tells her heart that even though her

friends are fled to a safer, truer home, eternity perhaps,

they still belong to it. She can see in a happier time all

of the present misunderstanding and hurt cleared up and

removed. Therefore, she will not grieve because she knows

that even though her bird, her friend, is gone, he sends a

new melody back to her from his new home.

Emily Dickinson and Susan had repeated periods of

estrangement both before and after Susan's marriage to

Austin. However, Emily Dickinson's reaction was always char-

acterized by anguish rather than anger, and she never became

bitter. Nevertheless, she did develop a more realistic

impression of Sue over the years. Sue was also the recip-

ient of many of Emily Dickinson's poems both as comments on

life in general as well as things in which they were inti-

mately involved. Even though the two women lived next door

to each other and sent notes back and forth between their

homes, Emily Dickinson would never be as completely enthral-

led by Susan's somewhat shallow charm again. The following

poem repeats the loss of her "Robin," but it ends with a

definite statement of renunciation rather than one of

50

understanding and acceptance as does the poem, "I have a

Bird in spring":

I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho' the sum was simple And pounds were in the land— Still, had it such a value Unto my frugal eye— That when I could not find i t — I sat me down to sigh.

I had a crimson Robin— Who sang full many a day But when the woods were painted, He, too, did fly away— Time brought me other Robins— Their ballads were the same— Still, for my missing Troubadour I kept the "house at hame."

I had a star in heaven— One "Pleiad" was it's name— And when I was not heeding, It wandered from the same. And tho' the skies are crowded— And all the night ashine— I do not care about i t — Since none of them are mine.

My story has a moral— I have a missing friend— "Pleiad" it's name, and Robin, And guinea in the sand. And when this mournful ditty Accompanied with tear— Shall meet the eye of traitor In country far from here— Grant that repentance solemn May seize upon his mind— And he no consolation Beneath the sun may find.

(Poems, I, #23, 23-24; 1858)

51

The poem tells of the loss of a golden coin. Even though

the coin was not worth very much and there were plenty of

truly valuable coins near by, the possession seemed so

important to her that the loss of it made her sigh. The

overestimated value of the coin reflects Emily Dickinson's

excessive appreciation of Susan Gilbert as a friend. The

poem continues to state that she had a vibrant red robin

who sang to her for many days, but when the season changed

to autumn, and the summer passed away, the robin flew away

also. As time passed, she was given other robins; but

because of her missing singer, she kept herself loyally at

home, possibly in preparation for his return. She then

states that she had a star in heaven named Pleiad, the

seventh and only star of the constellation by that name

which cannot be seen by the naked eye. Then, even though

the skies were crowded with stars and the night was bright,

she did not care because none of the stars were hers. The

final stanza states that there is a point to her story.

She has a missing friend who was Pleiad and robin and guinea

to her. She wishes that when the traitor, her unfaithful

friend, hears this story in a country far from her, any

place outside of their friendshop, that he will be seized

by regret and be unable to find peace anywhere on earth.

52

The masculine pronoun does not discount the theory that the

unfaithful friend is Susan Gilbert. The symbols that are

used in the poem make it natural to use the masculine pro-

noun rather than the feminine one. Also, the masculine

pronoun is often used in a general sense to denote either

gender. Furthermore, it would be a rather natural cloaking

device on Emily Dickinson's part in that she said exactly

what she meant, but she often did so in a way which would

obscure her meaning from others. She did not intend to tell

other people those things which most deeply touched her.

The following poem is addressed to Susan, whose pet

name was Dollie.^ The poem exemplifies the type of rela-

tionship Emily Dickinson and Susan had, particularly after

Susan was married to Austin:

You love me—you are sure—

I shall not fear mistake— I shall not cheated wake— Some grinning morn— To find the Sunrise left— And Orchards—unbereft— And Dollie—gone J

I need not start—you're sure— That night will never be— When frightened—home to Thee I run— To find the windows dark— And no more Dollie—mark— Quite none?

•'••'•Johnson, Poems, I, 113.

53

Be sure you're sure—you know— I'll bear it better now— If you'll just tell me so— Than when—a little dull Balm grown— Over this pain of mine—

You sting—again!

(Poems, I, #156, 112-13; 1860)

Emily Dickinson begins the poem with a question which is

presented as if it were a statement, probably more to

reassure herself rather than to tell the person addressed.

The poem says that Dollie, Susan, loves Emily and asks

Dollie whether she is sure.

The poem continues to say that she will not be afraid

of a mistake, that she will not wake some "grinning,"

mocking, morning to find herself cheated, unloved. She will

not wake to find the sunshine, a, very complimentary name

for Susan, gone and the flowers forsaken, and Dollie, Susan,

gone—surely not! She then says that she will never start,

jump from the shock of realization, when she runs frightened

to Sue only to find the windows dark and Susan gone. She

then emphasizes and gives a cleared impression of the

abandoned state she would be in by saying "mark," take

notice, that no more will Dollie be there to help and

comfort her. Then she admonishes Sue to be sure she is

sure because they both know that it will be easier for her

54

to take the disappointment now when she is expecting it

than it will be later when even a little bit of soothing

balm has grown over and dulled the pain. The last line,

using the words "sting" and "again," states that Emily

Dickinson has recently suffered at Susan's hands, the

occasion for the poem, and that she wants to know whether

or not Susan is really her friend and if she can depend upon

her sister-in-law.

The tone of the poem gives the definite impression that

Emily Dickinson actually knew that she could not depend upon

Sue but that she would have liked to have been able to do so.

It also gives the impression that a similar incident will

occur again, partially from Emily Dickinson's desire to be

able to trust in Sue and then from Sue's unconcern and

inability to justify that trust.

Emily Dickinson's inability to end her friendship with

Susan, even though it was not a satisfying relationship, is

illustrated in poem. #220 j

Could I_—then—shut the door—

Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?

(Poems, I, #220, 158? 1861)

The poem is again presented in the form of a question, and

the impression is that if the question must be asked at all

55

that the answer must be in the negative. She asks if she

could then shut the door, put an end to her friendship with

Susan, that Susan will end their friendship. Emily Dickinson

did not end her friendship with Susan even though she

realized Susan's severe limitations as a friend. Emily con-

tinued to send her poems even very late in her life, and as

important as her poems were to her, this action was above

the courtesy due Susan as a sister-in-law, especially since

Austin was disappointed in his marriage and the family

relationships were often strained.

The loss of Benjamin F. Newton and her disappointment

at Susan's hands were two of the early experiences which

made Emily Dickinson acutely aware of the value of friends.

Her statement that "friends are gems, infrequent" (Letters.

I, 166) grew out of her personal experiences. She knew their

value. In fact, the experiences of the first twenty-five

years of her life shaped her attitude about almost every

facet of life, including home, religion, and friends, and

helped to determine the pattern of her reactions to the

experiences of a lifetime.

CHAPTER IV

THE BEGINNINGS OF BREAKDOWN

1860-1862

The years of 1860 to 1862 constituted a period of

intense emotional disturbance in the life of Emily Dickinson.

The long succession of tragedies and disappointments during

these years threw Emily Dickinson into a state of mental

exhaustion in which she struggled to retain her sanity. In

addition, she existed in a state of acute depression, a

startling development considering her normal intense joy in

simply living.

One of the first indications of this crisis is found in

a letter that Emily Dickinson wrote to Samuel Bowles in 1860.

(Letters, II, 363) Like almost all of Emily Dickinson's

letters, this one is not explicit as to what she was really

undergoing. She was too sensitive to bare her soul even on

paper. The style of her letters, like that of her poems,

is extremely terse. She says a great deal in them, but the

meanings are usually clear only to the one individual to

whom it was written, a mark that signifies the truly personal

nature of her letters. For example, it is clear that she

56

57

made Bowles her confidant through her letters to him and

that he was able to understand her meaning, even though some

of it is lost to us today. In this particular letter of 1860,

Emily Dickinson included the following poem:

Two swimmers wrestled on the spar—

Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the land— Oh God I the Other Onei

The stray ships—passing— Spied a face— Upon the waters borne— With eyes in death—still begging raised— And hands—beseeching—thrownI

(Poems, I, #201, 143; 1860) . ..

The poem indicates a struggle between two individuals which

seems to have lasted throughout the night. One is victorious

and returns to land, or safety. The other one is obviously

lost, and the tragedy is ultimate. The stray ships see the

lost one, but there is no indication that they so much as

offer assistance, even if the lost one were capable of being

helped. However, he is beyond help. He is dead, but his

hands and eyes are still raised in prayer, a prayer which

is useless. Even though the poem does not specifically

state it, the lost one is probably Emily Dickinson herself.

The battle is an internal one, fought and lost in her mind,

at least temporarily. The two wrestlers are stability and

58

instability, and instability has won this victory. She is

struggling to give meaning to life, to achieve stability

or sanity, and at the moment is lost, begging for help but

finding none.

The theme of useless, unanswered prayer recurs in

several of Emily Dickinson's poems. For example, it is

repeated in the following poem:

Of Course—I prayed—

And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot— And cried "Give Me"— My Reason—Life— I had not had—but for Yourself— "Twere better Charity To leave me in the Atom's Tomb— Merry, and Nought, and gay, and numb—

Than this smart Misery

(Poems, I, #376, 299? 1862)

Here she states that she prayed for reason or life, and

God paid no more attention to her than if she had been a

bird stamping noiselessly on the air, demanding a favor.

George F. Whicher states that the poem was written by a

mature person looking back on the situation and that it

implies that God may mark the sparrow's fall, but He will

not appreciate or listen to the sparrow's childishness.

" George F. Whicher, This Was a_ Poet (Michigan, 1960) p. 58.

59

She does not question the existence of God; she simply

states that He cares nothing for her and treats her as He

would an impetuous bird. She says that nonexistence would

be better than the condition in which He left her. As much

as Emily Dickinson loved life and lived every moment of it,

this stated preference for nonexistence gives us some

indication of the intensity of the conflict which she under-

went during these critical years. It is not known who the

"Yourself" is who obviously saved her. Perhaps it was

Bowles, perhaps it was the unidentified Master to whom she

wrote impassioned letters, or perhaps it was T. W. Higginson

who she later said had saved her life without knowing it.

Regardless of who gave her the aid she desperately needed,

she was undergoing an emotional upheavel which she could

not have solved herself.

The chain of losses which caused this internal crisis

began with the death of Lavinia Norcross, Emily Dickinson's

favorite aunt, on April 18, 1860.^ Emily Dickinson was so

secure in her love for her aunt that she would not believe

that her aunt could die. Therefore the news of her death

was a severe blow to Emily, who wrote her sister at the

2 Jay Leyda, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (New

Haven, 1960), II, 9.

60

Norcross home that she cried until she could not see.

(Letters, II, 361-62) The tragedy recalled the struggle

to cope with and understand death which began with the *

losses of her childhood. Emily Dickinson's natural

response after disbelief was to wonder if her aunt could

see them and to reflect that it would be strange to think

of the summer because her aunt had deeply loved the summer.

In an attempt to comfort her Norcross cousins, Emily

Dickinson sent them a note of condolence and promise in

the form of a poem:

Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly As when her little mortal nest With cunning care she wove— If either of her "sparrows fall," She "notices," above.

(Poems, I, #164, 120; 1860:

cited in Leyda, I, 9.)

The poem brings the reassurance that even though their

mother has gone to Heaven, that she has not and will not

forget her children. She will be just as concerned about

them now as she always has been. The poem closes with the

promise (Matthew 10:30) that God will notice if even a spar-

row falls. Here, their mother takes the place of the watchful,

loving God. It is significant that in the previous poem

61

God, who supposedly watched over and loved the creatures

of earth, ingnored Emily Dickinson's need. Now, however,

Emily Dickinson used the same analogy of the birds to

praise her Aunt's devoted care. Her Aunt is, in fact, more

receptive to the needs of people than God is. Emily

Dickinson had been taught of God's wrathful, demanding side,

which she could not accept. Nevertheless, she could not

really comprehend any other.

Another poem which Emily Dickinson probably sent to

her Norcross cousins in an attempt to comfort them in face

of their loss is #178;

I cautious, scanned my little life— I winnowed what would fade From what w'd last till Heads like mine Should be a-dreaming laid.

I put the latter in a Barn— The former, blew away. I went one winter morning And lo—my priceless Hay

Was not upon the "Scaffold"--Was not upon the "Beam"— And from a thriving Farmer— A Cynic, I became.

Whether a Thief did it— Whether it was the wind— Whether Deity's guiltless— My business is, to findI

So I begin to ransacki How is it Hearts, with Thee?

62

Art thou within the little Barn Love provided Thee?

(Poems, I, #178, 130-31; 1860)

The poem states that she evaluated her life and kept only

what would be valuable until the time when she would leave

this life", discarding everything that would fade. She

placed her harvest in a special barn where she later found

that part of her priceless hay, her Aunt Lavinia, was

missing. She does not know who to blame now, but she is

ransacking all of her treasures in search of the knowledge.

She wants to know if her Norcross cousins, addressed as

"Hearts," are safe within the barn that her love has pro-

vided for them. They have lost their mother, and she feels

this loss for them as well as her own loss of her aunt. She

wants to reassure them and herself that they are yet safe

and protected within her love.

The second tragedy which added to the pain of these

years was the death of Mrs. Edward S. Dwight, the wife of

the pastor in Amherst from 1853 to 1860, whom all of the

Dickinsons loved. Mrs. Dwight died in December of 1861.

Emily Dickinson immediately wrote Edward Dwight to try to

•3

Whicher, p. 9.

63

4

comfort him. However, her grief did not cease with a note

of condolence. On June 2, 1862, she wrote him another

letter (Letters, II, 389-90) in which she enclosed the

following poem in Mrs. Dwight's memory:

There came a Day at Summer's full, Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the Saints, Where Resurrections—be—

The Sun, as common, went abroad, The flowers, accustomed, blew, As if no soul the solstice passed That maketh all things new—

The time was scare profaned, by speech— The symbol of a word Was needless, as at Sacrament, The Wardrobe—of our Lord—

Each was to each The Sealed Church, Permitted to commune this—time— Lest we too awkward show At Supper of the Lamb.

The hours slid fast—as Hours will, Clutched tight, by greedy hands— So faces en two Decks, look back, Bound to opposing lands—

And so when all the time had leaked, Without external sound Each bound the Other's Crucifix— We gave no other Bond—

Sufficient troth, that we shall rise— Deposed—at length, the Grave— To that new Marriage, Justified—through Calvaries of Love—

(Poems, I, #322, 249-50; 1861)

64

The poem tells of a lovely summer day that was made for the

saints. Everything was normal as if a soul were not passing

the solstice, the twenty first of June, which represents

the passage of a soul out of this world into Heaven. There

was no need for speech. The parting soul and the one forced

to stay were sacred to each other and could truly and freely

commune. The time went by all too rapidly and the two had

to part. These two, representing Emily Dickinson and her

loved one, Mrs. Dwight, or perhaps Mrs. Dwight and her

husband, gave each other the reassurance that death would

be conquered through love. George F. Whicher states that

the poem is one of Emily Dickinson's love poems, denoting

one interview with the lover whom she was forced to give

up.^ Certainly this interpretation is also possible in that

Emily Dickinson was often inspired to write a poem by more

than one experience. However, in the copy of the poem

enclosed in the letter to Edward Dwight, the first line of

the last stanza read, "Sufficient throth—that she will rise,'

designating the poem as a beautiful memorial of a woman whose

husband was one of the few ministers whom Emily Dickinson

loved and respected.

^Whicher, p. 96.

65

The death of Elizabeth Barrett Browning on June 30,

6

1861, was another shock which weakened Emily Dickinson's

enthusiasm for life. Even though Emily Dickinson never

met Mrs. Browning, she greatly admired her as a poet and

a woman, and wrote at least three poems in her memory.

Another indication of Emily Dickinson's admiration for her

fellow poet is that when Samuel Bowles and his wife had a.

baby son, Emily wrote Mary Bowles asking her to name their

new son Robert because he, or Robert Browning, "is the

bravest man—alive—but his Boy—has no mama—that makes

us all weep." (Letters, II, 385) Then, when Samuel Bowles

was in Europe during the early summer of 1862, Emily

Dickinson wrote him saying that if anyone talked about

Elizabeth B. Browning that he must listen for her, and if

he visited the grave, he must put a hand on the head of

the stone for her as the "unmentioned Mourner." (Letters,

II, 409-10)

The first poem written in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's

memory is #312:

Her—"last Poems"—

Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,

C.

Millicent Todd Bingham, Emily Dickinson's Home: Letters of Edward Dickinson (Cambridge, Mass., 1955), p. 419.

66

Flute—or Woman— So divine— Not unto it's Summer—Morning Robin—uttered Half the Tune— Gushed too free for the Adoring— From the Anglo-Florentine— Late—the Praise— 'Tis dull—conferring On the Head too High to Crown— Diadem—or Ducal Showing— Be it's Grave—sufficient sign— Nought—that We—No Poet's Kinsman— Suffocate—with easy wo— What, and if, Ourself a Bridegroom—

Put Her down—in Italy?

(Poems, I, #312, 234; 1862)

The poem is full of glowing praise for the dead poet.

Emily Dickinson states that all poets ended with Elizabeth

B. Browning's death. No flute or woman ever sounded so di-

vine. However, Emily fears that none of this praise is of

any real value now; it is dull, because the one to be

crowned with it is far too high to be approached. Her

grave is itself a sign of her value. The mourners here are

not even related to her, and they feel the tragedy of her

death. How much more intense would be their grief if they

were the bridegroom in Italy forced to bury his love. The

comparisons used in the poem illustrate the high degree of

respect and admiration that Emily Dickinson felt for

Elizabeth Browning.

67

A second poem written in Mrs. Browning's memory is #363.:

I went to thank Her— But She Slept— Her Bed—a funneled Stone— With Nosegays at the Head and Foot— That Travellers—had thrown—

Who went to thank Her— But She Slept--'Twas Short—to cross the Sea— To look upon Her like—alive—

But turning back—'twas slow—

(Poems, I, #363; 1862)

The poem deals with a journey in the figurative sense only,

because Emily Dickinson never went to Europe. She took the

trip in order to thank the poet for her work. However, the

latter was already dead when she arrived. The grave was

covered with flowers left by other travellers who had come

to thank her, only to find her dead. The journey to thank

her was easy and short, but the return journey, burdened

with the knowledge of her death, was difficult and long.

Another poem written in memory of Elizabeth Browning

tells of the emotion Emily Dickinson experienced when she

first read her work;

I think X was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—

68

And whether it was noon at night— Or only Heaven—at Noon— For very Lunacy of Light I had not power to tell—

The Bees—became as Butterflies— The Butterflies—as Swans— Approached—and spurned the narrow Grass-And just the meanest Tunes

That Nature murmured to herself To keep herself in Cheer— I took for Giants—practising Titanic Opera—

The Days—to Mighty Metres stept— The Homeliest—adorned As if unto a Jubilee 'Twere suddenly confirmed—

I could not have defined the change— Conversion of the Mind Like Sanctifying in the Soul— Is witnessed—not explained—

'Twas a Divine Insanity— The Danger to be Sane Should I again experience— 'Tis Antidote to turn—

To Tomes of solid Witchcraft— Magicians be asleep— But Magic—hath an Element Like Deity—to keep—

(Poems, II, #593, 454-55; 1862)

This poem, like the other two, is filled with praise for

that "Foreign Lady," Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Simply

reading her poetry made the dark so beautiful that it

seemed like noon in Heaven, and everything was intensified

69

and enlarged in Emily's sight. She could not explain the

enchantment, the change that had occurred, but she loved

the divine insanity of it. In fact, if she felt that she

would have to be sane again, she would turn back to this

magic which is as everlasting as God. Emily Dickinson was

not a literary critic, but she had her own definition for

poetry. From the respect and praise evident in these three

poems, it is clear that Elizabeth Barret Browning's work

met the requirements necessary in Emily Dickinson's eyes.

Very possibly, her appreciation of Elizabeth Browning's

poetry was colored by her admiration for the woman herself

and the tragedy of her death after her long struggle with

ill health.

Emily Dickinson suffered another agony when Frazer A.

Stearns, the son of President Stearns of Amherst Academy,

died on March 14, 1862. (Letters, I, 397-98) Once again,

she turned to Samuel Bowles for comfort. Bowles was pre-

paring to leave on a trip to Europe, and Emily Dickinson

wrote him a letter late in March in which she asked him to

help Austin, who was extremely upset over Frazer's death.

She said that Austin kept repeating the words "Frazer is

killed—Frazer is killed." (Letters, II, 398-99) In the

following poem, the same type of expression is repeated?

70

It dont sound so terrible—quite—as it did— I run it over—"Dead," Brain, "Dead." Put it in Latin—left of my school— Seems it dont shriek so—under rule.

Turn it, a little—full in the face A Trouble looks bitterest—-Shift it—just— Say "When Tomorrow comes this way— I shall have waded down one Day".

I suppose it will interrupt me some Til I get accustomed—but then the Tomb Like other new Things—shows largest—then— And smaller, by Habit—

It1s shrewder then Put the Thought in advance—a Year— How like "a fit"—then— Murder—wear J . -

(Poems, I, #426, 330; 1862)

The poem is an attempt to cope with death, to keep it under

enough control that the mind can understand it and live

with it. At the same time, however, it rebels against this

ability. The poem states that the word "dead" does not sound

as bad as it did. It then recommends ways to get accustomed

to "dead," the basic remedy being time. The last two lines

discard the very idea of being able to adjust to the loss

of a friend. It screams out that "Murder" can actually

become a fit. This garment is not the type that Emily

Dickinson was ever able to wear, and the successive losses

of 1860 to 1862 were a severe blow to her.

71

Bowles understood that even though Emily Dickinson

asked him to help Austin that she was equally pained by

Frazer's death. In another letter written to Bowles during

the same month, (Letters, II, 399-400) Emily enclosed poem

#690 in memory of Frazer"

Victory comes late—

And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it— How sweet it would have tasted— Just a Drop— Was God so economical? His Table's spread too high for Us— Unless We dine on tipetoe— Crumbs fit such little mouths— Cherries—suit Robins— The Eagle's Golden Breakfast strangles—Them— God keep His Oath to Sparrows—

Who of little love—know how to starve—

(Poems, II, #690, 533; 1861)

Victory is useless; it is too late. Those who are frozen

in death cannot feel victorious. Just a little victory

would have been valued had it come in life, but God was too

economical to give it then. God's table is too high for man,

who receives only the crumbs and would strangle on the great

Eagle's food. Let God keep his promise to the sparrows who

know how to starve from lack of love. The reward is useless

to man once he has fallen. It is again relevant that the

very sparrows God promises to watch perish from lack of care.

72

The Union won the battle of Newbern where Frazer was

killed but this meant very little to his family and friends.

Immediately after Frazer's death, Bowles wrote a letter to

Sue and Austin in which he said, "and then the news from

Newbern took away all the remaining life. I did not care

for victory, for anything now." (Letters, II, 400) Emily

Dickinson felt the same way and expressed her feelings in

the last poem. The life of a friend was always more impor-

tant to her than anything else, and she repeatedly expressed

the opinion that God's rewards came too late to be of any

value to their owner.

In addition, during the early part of 1862, Samuel

Bowles was seriously ill. About February 9, 1862, Emily

Dickinson wrote him a letter which contained Vinnie's and

7

Sue's prayers, as well as her own, for his improvement.

She included poem #691;

Would you like summer? Taste of ours.

Spices? Buy here J 111: We have berries, for the parching] Weary] Furloughs of down!-Perplexed] Estates of violet trouble ne'er looked on J Captive] We bring reprieve of roses] Fainting] Flasks of air] Even for Death, a fairy medicine. But, which is it, sir?

7Leyda, II, 45-6.

73

(Poems, II, #691, 534; 1862)8

She loved Bowles and sorrowed that he was ill. She begs

him to let her know what can be done for him, and she will

see that it is done. She has all remedies, but he must say

which it is that he needs. She had found in Bowles a

sympathetic friend who could be of help to her without

encroaching too far into her own personality, and she had

come to value him. She could not bear for him to be faced

with pain. Then, in the spring, Bowles left for Europe on

a recuperative journey, and Emily Dickinson was denied the

comfort of his occasional visits, even though they did

continue to correspond.

Then when Charles Wadsworth left for California May 1,

9

1862, Emily Dickinson was left without the mental or

spiritual comfort and support which she desperately needed.

There has been a great deal of speculation as to the role

that Charles Wadsworth played in Emily Dickinson's life. , 10

Many authorities, including Martha Dickinson Bianchi,

^Johnson dates the letter to Bowles and the poem 1863; however, the circvimstances involved and Leyda ' s entry seem to support 1862 as the more accurate date for both the letter and the poem.

9Leydaf II, 57.

lOMartha Dickinson Bianchi, Emily Dickinson Face to Face (New York, 1932), pp. 51-52.

74

adhere to the theory that he was the man she loved and who

inspired her moving love poems. Even though he may not

have fulfilled that particular role in her life, Emily

Dickinson did respect the man and later called him her

"dearest earthly friend." (Letters, III, 764) His depar-

ture to California, which Emily thought would be permanent,

was a severe blow to her, leaving her without the counsel

she so desperately needed. Johnson states that the news of

Charles Wadsworth's call to Calvary Church in California

was published in the Daily News of Philadelphia on January

11, 1862, and that this news inspired the following poem:

I dreaded that first Robin, so,

But He is mastered, now, I'm some accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though—

I thought if I could only live Till that first Shout got by-*-Not all Pianos in the Woods Had power to mangle me—

I dared not meet the Daffodils— -For fear their Yellow Gown Would pierce me with a fashion So foreign to my own—

I wished the Grass would hurry— So—when 'twas time to see' He'd be too tall, the tallest one Could stretch—to look at me—

I could not bear the Bees should come, I wished they'd stay away In those dim countries where they go, What word had they, for me?

75

They're here, though; not a creature failed— No blossom stayed away In gentle deference to me— The Queen of Calvary—

Each one salutes me, as he goes, And I, my childish Plumes, Lift, in bereaved acknowledgement Of their unthinking Drums—

(Poems, I, #348, 278; 1862)

The poem states a fear to meet the spring and summer,

probably because her friend would leave with the coming of

summer. Now that it has happened, however, it does not

hurt as much as she feared. The yellow daffodils would only

intensify the blackness of her mourning dress; therefore she

wishes the grass would grow tall enough to hide her. However,

everything has come; nothing stayed away in respect for her,

the Queen of Calvary. They each pass by her, and she

attempts to answer in her bereaved state since they really

do not know what they do. The wording of the poem reflects

the crucifixtion of Christ and His words at the time. Emily

Dickinson, too, has been forced to endure more than her life

can sustain, but she can find no one or nothing to blame.

The poem might also have been written in memory of

Lavinia Norcross. In the letter already cited that Emily

Dickinson wrote to her sister at the time of her aunt's

death, she made the statement that it was hard to think of

76

summer now that her aunt was dead because the latter loved

the summer. Emily often gave voice to more than one grief

in a poem, and it is very possible that this poem reflected

the grief of the loss of her aunt, as well as the grief

from what she thought would be the loss of Charles Wadsworth.

After the knowledge of Charles Wadsworth's departure,

Emily Dickinson turned to Thomas Wentworth Higginson for

help with her poetry; and, when this failed, for personal

comfort. Emily Dickinson read "Letter to a Young Contributor"

by Higginson in the April issue of the Atlantic Monthly.

She then wrote to Higginson for advice on her poetry, which,

she tells him in her second letter, she turned to because

"I had a terror since September—I could tell to none—and

so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground—because

I am afraid." (Letters, II, 404) Her poetry was her

release and her comfort. It was extremely important to her.

It is now impossible to tell whether she would Ijave ever

published her poems if it had not been for Higginson's

advice not to do so. She did tell him in her third letter

that she never had any intention of publishing her work,

(Letters. II, 408) but this statement may have been made

13-Leyda, II, 51.

77

largely for Higginson's sake. Several of her poems deal with

the subjects of publication and recognition. For example:

I'm Nobody I Who are you?

Are you—Nobody—too? Then there's a pair of us! Dont tell! they'd banish us—you know!

How dreary—to be--Somebody! How public—like a Frog— To tell your name—the livelong June— To an admiring Bog!

(Poems, I, #288, 206-7; 1861)

George F. Whicher states that the poem illustrates the

1 7 fact that Emily Dickinson hated notoriety. Charles R.

Anderson states that the poem was written in a playful note

before she realized that obscurity was to be her permanent

13

lot. The poem was written before she began her correspon-

dence with Higginson, and the tone is recognizably playful.

However, the playfulness may be one of the many tools that

Emily Dickinson used to camouflage her inner feelings.

Perhaps even at this early date she had considered publishing

her poems and immediately decided that she would never want

to do so, or perhaps she is just a little resentful of her

obscurity.

12Whicher, p. 114.

l^charles R. Anderson, Emily Dickinson's Poetry, Stair-of Surprise (New York, 1960), p. 59.

78

Another poem dealing with publication was written after

her statement to Higginson denying that she ever intended

to publish her poetry;

Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing

Possibly—but We—would rather From Our Garret go White—Unto the White Creator— Than invest—Our Snow—

Thought belong to Him who gave i t — Then—to Him Who bear It's Corporeal illustration—Sell The Royal Air—

In the Parcel—Be the Merchant Of the Heavenly Grace--But reduce no Human Spirit To Disgrace of Price—

(Poems, II, #709, 544; 1863)

George F. Whicher states that this poem shows Emily Dickin-

son's hatred for commercialism.^ However, there is more

to the poem than just that. Charles R. Anderson states

that this poem is a. statement that it costs the spirit more

15

than it can bear to meet the demands of an audience.

Anderson's opinion seems more probable in view of Emily

Dickinson's character. More than likely she realized from

14,

15

Whicher, p. 114.

Anderson, p. 57.

79

Higginson's response to her poetry what the response of the

general public would be. She could not bear that they be

rewritten by others who could not even understand what she

was saying. The fact that she did then obviously decide

not to publish her poetry does not mean that she wished to

remain almost completely unknown in her own time. It simply

means that in this respect, as in most others, she was

extremely perceptive and sensitive.

Emily Dickinson's relationship with Higginson did not

prove beneficial to her poetry, but it did prove to be

personally beneficial. She later told him that he had

unknowingly saved her life, a life endangered by the weight

of too many tragedies in too short a period of time. The

continuous losses mentioned here were compounded by her

complete and near fatal love for the unknown "Master." The

end result was that for several months Emily Dickinson

existed in a state of living death.

CHAPTER V

THE FIGHT FOR SANITY

1861-1862

Emily Dickinson's relationship with the unknown lover

to whom she gave her heart inspired more poems than did any

other person or experience. Much of the respected opinion

names this man as Charles Wadsworth, maintaining that even

though she loved him intensely, he did not actually return

this passion. However, the poems give the definite impres-

sion that her love was reciprocated and that there was hope

in the beginning of the relationship. The final disappoint-

ment in this love was the culminating crisis which left her

incapable of facing life.

Before Mrs. Dwight's death, Emily Dickinson had begun

writing letters to her Master, the man she deeply and

passionately loved. The unfulfilled love she felt for him

caused her great pain as well as joy. In 1861, Lavinia ran

to Sue for help. She said, "That man is here I—Father and

Mother are away, and I am afraid Emily will go away with

him.Lavinia's fear illustrates the intensity of the

Ijay Leyda, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (New Haven, 1960}, I, 34.

an

81

passion Emily Dickinson felt. However, the true testimony

to her love is found in the letters that she wrote to him.

The first letter of January, 1861, is filled with the desire

to see him: (Letters, I, 375)

Sir—it were comfort forever—just to look in your face, while you looked in mine—then I could play in the woods till Dark—till you take me where Sundown cannot find us—.

The wording of this letter is echoed in the following poem:

I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block—

I'd tunnel—till my Groove Pushed sudden thro' to his— Then my face take her Recompense— The looking in his Eyes—

But 'tis a single Hair— A filament—a law— A cobweb—wove in Adamant— A Battlement—of Straw—

A limit like the Vail Unto the Lady's face-But every Mesh—a Citadel— And Dragons—-in the Crease—

(Poems, I, #398, 312; 1862)

The poem expresses her need to be with him, to see him.

She would struggle through solid rock and be well rewarded

just to look into his eyes. However, something abstract

rather than something solid stands between them, and it is

82

something she has no way to fight. There are social or

spiritual reasons why their love cannot be consummated.

The poem was written in 1862 when she fully realized that

she could never possess the man she loved.

Earlier, however, Emily Dickinson was more hopeful.

In a letter written early in 1862, (Letters, II, 391-92)

she asks him to take her into his life. She promises

never to be tired, never to make any noise when he wishes

to be quiet, and never to allow anyone but him to see her,

The same idea appears in the following poem:

What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Heart All day and night with bark and start— And yet, it will not go— Would you untie it, were you me— Would it stop whining—if to Thee— I sent it—even now?

It should not tease you— By your chair—or, on the mat— Or if it dare—to climb your dizzy knee— Or—sometimes at your side to run— When you were willing— Shall it come? Tell Carlo— He'11 tell me!

(Poems, I, #186, 134-45; 1860)

She wants to be with him. The desire is embodied in the

hound in her heart, which she asks if he would untie and

then receive and comfort so that it would stop whimpering.

83

It would never bother him, but always be very quiet except

when he were willing for it to become an active part of his

life. Emily Dickinson is actually asking if she may come

to him, and she asks him to give the message to Carlo, her

dog, who will then relay the answer to her.

In another poem the wish to be with her loved one is

repeated even though it is a desire which she now knows

will be fulfilled in the distant future, if at alls

If you were coming in the Fall, I'd brush the Summer by With half a smile, and half a spurn, As Housewives do, a Fly.

If I could see you in a year, I'd wind the months in balls— And put them each in separate Drawers, For fear the numbers fuse—

If only centuries, delayed, I'd count them on my Hand, Subtracting, till my fingers dropped Into Van Dieman's Land.

If certain, when this life was out— That yours and mine, should be— I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind, And take Eternity—

But, now, uncertain of the length Of this, that is between, It goads me, like the Goblin Bee— That will not state—it's sting.

(Poems, II, #511, 392-93? 1862)

84

She says that if the time before she could see him only had

a limit, she could endure it. If she knew that she would

be with him in eternity, she would throw her life away as

if it were already used and of no value. However, there is.

no way to measure the length between now the time when they

can be together. Therefore, the uncertainty torments her

as the sting of an unseen, and therefore unavoidable, bee

would. The indefinite quality of the wait is what she can-

not stand. The wording and attitude of the poem are repeated

in almost every one of the letters to Master. The letter

written about the middle of 1861 is particularly similar.

(Letters, II, 373-75) She says that she once thought she

could be with him when she died, so she died as fast as she

could. Then she asks him to allow her to wait for him,

stating that she has already waited a long time but that

she will continue to do so.

She expresses the same wish in a letter early in 1862*

(Letters, II, 391-92) saying she will wander in search of

him forever if only he is the final destiny. This letter

is basically a plea for her loved one to forgive her for

some unknown wrong which she has done him. She professes

her unbounded love for him and pleads with him to take her

life if forgiveness can be bought at so meager a price.

85

She could stand anything except for him to banish her. She

is ill, but the pain she feels is nothing compared to the

pain his displeasure causes her.

Emily Dickinson also turned to her poetry to record

her plea for forgiveness;

The Court is far away—

No Umpire—have I — My Sovreign is offended— To gain his grace—I'd die!

I'll seek his royal feet— I'll say—Remember—King— Thou shalt thyself—one day—a Child— Implore a larger—thing—

That Empire—is of Czars— As small—they say—as I — Grant me—that day-~the royalty— To intercede—for Thee--

(Poems, I, #235, 170? 1861)

She says she has no hope if he will not forgive her. Like

the letter, the poem says that she is on her knees, begging

for his forgiveness. On the final Judgement Day, he will

ask a greater favor. Since the Kingdom of Heaven is made

up of people much like herself, she will be honored to

plead for his acceptance into it. The wording of the poexn

also resembles a letter she wrote to Bowles in 1862. (Letters,

II, 393)

86

The following poem was written at approximately the same

time as the letter written to Master in 1862:

Why make it doubt—it hurts it so—

So sick—to guess— So strong—to know— So brave—upon it's little Bed To tell the very last They said Into Itself—and smile—And shake— For that dear—distant—dangerous—Sake— But—the Instead—the Pinching fear That Something—it did do—or dare— Offend the Vision—and it flee— And They no more remember me— Nor ever turn to tell me why—

Oh, Master, This is Misery—

(Poems, I, #462, 356-57; 1862)

The image is of a person who is confined in bed because of

illness, or approaching death. She asks her love why he

wants to make her doubt since the doubt makes her sick,

whereas the knowledge would make her strong and brave to

face the illness. The pronoun "it" is used to give the

impression of a very small, helpless child whose happiness

is completely subject to him. With the knowledge of what

she had done, perhaps she could remedy it and go on to face

death, or life. Instead, however, she is confronted with

the fear that she has done something to offend him, "they"

in the sense that he is literally her world and all the

people she cares about. The "they" might also be used as

the royal plural in that he is her sovereign. She fears he

87

will forget her, and she will never know why, but live in

the constant misery of doubt. She refers to him as "Master,"

the name by which she addressed her love.

There are several poems which do not grow out

of any specific incident but seem to be simply the outpouring

of the love she felt for this man. For example:

I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuschzia's Carol Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—

Geraniums—tint—and spot— Low Daisies—dot— My Cactus—splits her Beard To show her throat—

Carnations—tip their spice—-And Bees—pick u p — A Hyacinth—I h i d — Puts out a Ruffled Head— And odors fall From flasks—so small— You marvel how they held—

Globe Roses--break their satin flake— Upon ray Garden floor— Yet—thou—not there— I had as lief they bore No Crimson—more—

Thy flower—be gay— Her Lord—away! It ill becometh m e — I'll dewll in Calyx—Gray— How modestly— alway— Thy Daisy— Draped for theei

(Poems, I, #339, 270-71? 1862)

88

All of the various flowers in her garden are putting on

their most brilliant colors and adorning themselves beauti-

fully. However, since her love is away, she would really

prefer that they not array themselves in their finery.

After all, it ill becomes the flower to be gay and bright

while her lord is away. Instead, she will dress very

modestly in gray, always waiting for him. She refers to

herself as "Daisy," the name she uses for herself in her

letters to Master.

She again professes her love in poem #4-80, the style

of which is like that of Elizabeth Barrett Browning;

"Why do I love" You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Grass To answer—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.

Because He knows—and Do not You— And We know not— Enough for Us The Wisdom it be so—

The Lightning—never asked an Eye Wherefore it shut—when He was by— Because He knows it cannot speak— And reasons not contained— —Of Talk— There be—preferred by Daintier Folk—

The Sunrise—Sir—compelleth Me— Because He's Sunrise—and I see-Therefore—Then— I love Thee—•

(Poems, I, #480, 368; 1862)

89

The images are all taken from the powerful and majestic

properties of nature. The wind does not require the flowers

to explain why they cannot stand still as he passes. He

knows; and even though we, she, and her love do not know

why, we know that there is wisdom in the fact that it is so.

The lightning never asks the eye why it closes when he

flashes; he knows. Besides, the reasons which cannot be

spoken are preferred by those who are sensitive to the true

beauty of life. Finally, she associates him with the sun-

rise and says that it compels her to see. Therefore, she

loves him. Even though he does not make the statement in

connection with this particular poem, Clark Griffith supports

the theory that God was the lover whom Emily Dickinson -

2

sought and who spurned her, causing her to suffer the mental

anguish she barely overcame. Poem #357, beginning "God is

a distant—stately—Lover—," may be a partial basis for his

opinion. However, the letters addressed to "Master" by them-

selves almost certainly discount such a theory; and then the

poems, such as #480, denote a completely human passion, not

a metaphysical or rhetorical one.

Poem # 587 presents her love to be a completely real one t

2 Clark Griffith, The Long Shadow (New Jersey, 1964),

p. 217.

90

Empty my Heart, of Thee— It's single Artery— Begin, and leave Thee out— Simply Extinction's Date—.

Much Billow hath the Sea— One Baltic—They— Subtract Thyself, in play, And not enough of me Is left—to put away— "Myself" meant Thee—

Erase the Root—no Tree— Thee—then—no me— The Heavens stripped-Eternity's vast pocket, picked—

(Poems, II, #587, 449; 1862)

In this poem she states very graphically that he is an

intregal part of her, and that if there were any attempt to

separate him from her, there would literally be nothing left

of her. If you took away the root, there would be no tree.

If you stripped the heavens of the stars, eternity would

be bankrupt. If he were taken out of her life, there would

be no life. It would be difficult to conceive of the poem

being addressed to God as a lover. Furthermore, by 1862

Emily Dickinson had essentially reached her own understanding

of religion and attitude toward God.

On January 2, 1862, Emily Dickinson wrote Edward S.

Dwight, apologizing for sending him a letter and verse

intended for another friend. (Letters/ II, 389-90) She

says that she would not have mentioned it

91

except the familiar address—must have surprised your taste—I have the friend who loves me—and thinks me larger than I am—and to reduce a Glamour, innocently caused—I sent the little Verse to Him.

The address was familiar because it was to someone who was

more than a friend; it was a friend who loved her and thought

more of her than she felt she deserved. Leyda gives poem

#738 as one possibility for the poem which she might have .

3

sent. Even though the poem as we have it seems unfinished,

it is possible that Emily Dickinson sent a more polished

version in the actual letter{

You said that I "was Great"—one Day— Then "Great" it be—if that please Thee—. Or Small—or any size at all— Nay—I'm the size suit Thee—

Tall—like the Stag—would that? Or lowers—like the Wren— Or other hights of Other Ones I've seen?

Tell which—it's dull to guess— And I must be Rhinoceros Or Mouse At once—for Thee—

So say—if Queen it be— -Or Page—please Thee— I'm that—or nought— Or other thing—if other thing there be— With just this Stipulus— I suit Thee—

(Poems. II, #738, 562-563; 1863)

3 Leyda, II, 42.

. 92

Even though Johnson dates the poem 1863, making it too late

to have been sent in 1862, the wording and attitude are so

close to those Emily Dickinson wrote to Dwight as an

explanation that it is difficult not to speculate that it

is actually a rough draft of the same poem and perhaps was

simply inaccurately dated since the handwriting is the

basis for the date given. It is also possible that Emily '

Dickinson herself misdated the letter. Since it was so

early in the year, there would be a very normal tendency to

put the previous year without realizing the error.

The poem, like the letter, says that he called her

great, "larger than I am," and that if that suits him, then

let it be so. Then she goes to animals, and generally lowly

ones, to ask if she should be one of these for him. She

asks him to tell her what to be. It makes no difference as

long as she suits him.

Even though the circumstances are obscure, probably

permanently, it seems clear that the love affair remained

unfulfilled and that Emily Dickinson suffered with the real-

ization that she would never possess her love. In the despair

that followed this realization, she turned to her poetry*

I cannot live with You—

It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf

93

The Sexton keeps the Key to— Putting up Our Life—His Porcelain— Like a Cup—

Discarded of the Housewife— Quaint—or Broke— A newer Sevres pleases— Old Ones crack—

I could not die—with You— For One must wait To shut the Other's Gaze down— You—could not—

And I—Could I stand by And see You—freeze— Without my Right of Frost— Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise—with you— Because Your Face Would put out Jesus' — That New Grace

Glow plain—and foreign On my homesick Eye— Except that You than He Shone closer by—

They'd judge Us—How— For You—served Heaven—You know, Or sought to— I could not—

Because You saturated Sight— And I had no more Eyes For sordid excellence As Paradise

And were You lost, I would be— Though My Name Rang loudest On the Heavenly frame—

94

And were You—saved— And I—condemned to be Where You were not— That self—were Hell to Me—

So We must meet apart— You there—I—here— With just the Door ajar That Oceans are—and Prayer— And that White Sustenance—

Despair—

(Poems, II, #640, 492-93; 1862) '

This P9em also reads roughly and is not of the quality that

Emily Dickinson would normally have sent to anyone. How-

ever, that does not discredit the idea that the poem grew

out of her suffering. In fact, the distraught mental state

that Emily Dickinson was in at this time may account for the

unfinished quality of several of her poems.

In the poem, she goes through the various stages of

life, death, and judgment, explaining why she could not

possibly undergo any of these with him. She cannot live

with him? that would be life, and the sexton holds the key

to that, as if he were locking up a china closet- She could

not die with him because one of them would have to wait to

see the other through it, and that would be impossible as

well. She could not rise with him because he would mean

more to her than Christ, and there would not be any way they

could both be judged as acceptable for Heaven. Therefore,

95

they must always be apart with a door between them, which

will consist of oceans, great distance, and prayer, and

that white food, despair. The despair is the "white suste-

nance" because white is the color of metal in its hottest

state, and the despair left to her is of the greatest

intensity possible. The white sustenance may also be snow,

which would be the blankest and emptiest of lives.

Another poem to grow out of anguish is #644*

You left me—Sire—two Legacies—

A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—

You left me Boundaries of Pain— Capacious as the Sea— Between Eternity and Time—

Your Consciousness—and Me—

(Poems, II, #644, 495-96; 1862)

The poem was written when Emily Dickinson knew that all

hope was gone, that the relationship was over. She uses

the past tense to designate his gift, but the possession

of it is in the present. He left her two things, enough

love that even a jealous God would be content with it, and

expanses of pain as unlimited as the difference between

time and eternity and her love's consciousness and herself.

The poem states the joy and then the agony of her love.

After 1862 there are no letters addressed to Master.

96

The tragedy of this love was the culminating feature

of the crisis which ended in Emily Dickinson's struggle for

identity and fight for sanity. The last indication of this

crisis again comes from her own hand in a letter to T. W.

Higginson on April 25, 1862, which has already been quoted.

(Letters, II, 404) She had since learned that Higginson

would be of little help to her as a poet, but she sought

his comfort as a human being in pain. In this letter, as

usual, she is not explicit as to what the terror is, but

she does state that she is afraid. She has had to face too

many emotional tragedies in too short a time, and she fears

for her sanity. The problem is voiced in the following

poem:

The first Day's Night had come—

And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—

She said her Strings were snapt— Her Bow—to Atoms blown— And so to mend her—gave me work Until another Morn—

And then—a Day as huge As Yesterdays in pairs, Unrolled it's horror in my face— Until it blocked my eyes—

My brain—begun to laugh— I mumbled—like a fool— And tho* 'tis Years ago—that Day— My Brain keeps giggling—still.

97

And Something's odd--within— That person that I was— And this One—do not feel the same— Could it be Madness—this?

(Poems, I, #410, 319; 1862)

Clark Griffith states that the poem is the record of the

breakdown of the personal identity. However, he states

4

that time is the evil influence, whereas the evil is the -

agony that occupies the time and not time itself. The

poem states that the first day of agony had finally ended,

and she thought she could sing. However, she discovered

that the strings of her soul had snapped and that she would

have to mend them. This, repair took all night, and when

the morning came, it was filled with enough agony to be

pairs of yesterdays. She lost control and began to giggle

hysterically. Even though the verbs are in the past tense,

indicating that the experience is over, she has not been

able to regain control over her mind and soul. She states

that something is not right inside of her, and she wonders

whether she is insane.

The poem is the expression of the culmination of the

tragedies of the past two years. The fact that she felt

compelled to include the last stanza, which adds nothing

^Griffith, p. 103.

98

to the quality of the poem, illustrates the fact that she

was truly worried for her sanity. These two years were

the most eventful, as well as the most productive, of Emily

Dickinson's life. Along with the large body of poetry

inspired by her love, there is an equally extensive group

written in face of the resulting crisis. These poems are

characterized by the condition of numbness in mind and soul,

a state of living death. Even though there are too many of

them to even list, a few examples will be relevant.

The following poem deals with a funeral occasioned by

the death, not of the physical body, but of the personality.

Clark Griffith describes it as the fall of the brain to

5 madness:

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—til it seemed That Sense was breaking through—

And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum— Kept beating—beating—till I thought My Mind was going numb—

And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space—began to toll,

5 Griffith, p. 247.

99

As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange Race Wrecked, solitary, here— '

And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down— And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing—then—

(Poems, I, #280, 199-200; 1861)

The poem uses the familiar images of a. funeral to give the

reader a basis of understanding. It then uses the technique

of repetition to give the impression of the hypersensitive

brain. She felt a funeral in her brain, and the mourners

kept treading until she felt that the sense would completely

break through, out of the personality. Then with the ser-

vice, there was a constant beat as a drum which made her

fear her mind would go numb. Finally, her entire being was

only a huge ear, receptive and sensitive to the tolling of

space, which was one, large bell. Then with complete silence,

reason dropped away from her, and she was plunged into non-

existence.

Again, poem #341 graphically describes the condition

of living death, the letting go of life without the power

to actually die, which Emily Dickinson felt, and leads the

reader to feel and understands

100

After great pain, a formal feeling comes— The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs— The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round— Of Ground, or Air, or Ought— » A Wooden way Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone—

This is the Hour of Lead— Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow— First—Chill—then Stupor—then the letting go—

(Poems, I, #341, 272; 1862)

The poem is an example of Emily Dickinson's power to make

every word give off the exact image and sound necessary to

project her meaning. Here, almost every word denotes a

state of suspension or insensibility in which all feeling

is impossible. Such words as "formal," "stiff," "mechanical,"

"wooden," "stone," and "lead" give the impression of the

static, unfeeling condition of the mind. If a person lives

through this experience, he remembers it as a freezing

person does the snow. First, the penetrating coldness, then

the stupefaction, and finally the giving way. The giving

way denotes the loss of reason, just as the earlier stages

denote a state of living death in which the person has lost

the desire to think or reason.

101

Poem #937 was written in 1865 after this mental crisis

was past. Therefore, it gives more objectively the experi-

ence which Emily Dickinson suffered:

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind—

As if my Brain had split— I tried to match it—Seam by Seam— But could not make them fit.

The thought behind, I strove to join Unto the thought before— But Sequence ravelled out of Sound Like Balls—upon a Floor.

(Poems, II, #237, 682; 1864)

The verbs are in the past tense, designating that the experi-

ence is now over. The poem is not marred by a weak last

stanza as is "The first Day's Night had come," probably

because it is possible for her to be more rational now. She

is not in the midst of the turmoil as she was in 1862. This

poem describes basically the same situation as does the

earlier poem. The brain has split. Reason has been lost.

The reasoning powers cannot fit things into a coherent

sequence. Instead, every thought, every idea, scatters in

confusion like spools of thread unravelling—or perhaps

rolling marbles.

How Emily Dickinson collected these balls and saved

her sanity is largely unknown. By her own hand, we know

that she felt Higginson had helped her and that she turned

102

to her poetry when she was afraid. Also, the intensity of

the pain she endured is clear when she is willing to give

up life because of it. Hereafter, Emily Dickinson was

always capable of facing and coping with a world which, for

her, was essentially a series of tragedies equally lessened

and intensified by her passion for life.

CHAPTER VI

THE LOSS OP FRIENDS AND THE FORTRESS

1863-1875

Even though it is evident that Emily Dickinson pos-

sessed enough of her father's strength of character to pull

herself through the bitter years of struggle and maintain

her sanity, the fight was not ended. The loss of more

friends, the death of her dog Carlo, and finally the death

of her father made the next ten years a continuing trial.

On January 17, 1863, Loring Norcross, Emily Dickinson's

uncle, died. (Letters, II, 421) Emily Dickinson wrote her

cousins, Louise and Francis Norcross, to try to comfort them

and to share her own parents with them. In the letter, she

enclosed the following poem:

'Tis not that Dying hurts us so— 'Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way—-A Kind behind the Door—

The Southern Custom—of the Bird— That ere the Frosts are due—

The version of the poem enclosed in the letter begins with the line "It is not dying hurts us so" rather than the first line given here. Otherwise, the poem is the same.

103

104

Accepts a better Latitude— We—are the Birds—that stay.

The Shiverers round Farmer's doors— For whose reluctant Crumb— We stipulate—till pitying Snows

Persuade our Feathers Home **

(Poems, I, #33 5, 268; 1862)

The poem is a statement of the tragedy involved, not in

dying, but in staying behind in the world devoid of the loved

one who does die.

Emily Dickinson was always close to her Norcross cousins,

possibly because of her deep love for their mother, and in

1864 and again in 1865 when she went to Boston for eye treat-

ment, she stayed with them.2 Although she loved her cousins,

and they were extremely kind to her, the extended separations

from home depressed her. Also, the doctor would not allow

her to do any work which might further strain her eyes, leav-

ing her virtually nothing to do. Emily Dickinson sent the

following poem to Sue soon after she arrived in Boston in 1864:

Away from Home are some and I —

An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly— The Habit of a Foreign Sky We—difficult—acquire

2 Jay Leyda, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (New Haven, 1960), II, 86, 98.

105

As Children, who remain in Face The more their Feet retire.

(Poems, II, #821, 621; 1864)

She states that she, along with other people, is away from

home, and even though it would seem easy to be a stranger

where there are many homes, she cannot get accustomed to a

foreign place. The habit, face, dress, and overall appear-

ance, of a foreign city is not as easy to acquire, to become

familiar with and appreciate, as is that of a child whose

face remains more vivid in memory the further away he goes.

Home was a sanctuary of safety for Emily Dickinson from her

childhood until the death of her father, when it became the

place where she was needed. She never wished to leave it,

even for a while.

The next tragedy occurred on January 27, 1866, when

Carlo, Emily Dickinson's dog, died. The depth of feeling

involved in this loss is illustrated by the terseness of

the letter that Emily Dickinson wrote to T. W. Higginson to

tell him that Carlo was dead. The letter read simply:

Carlo died— E. Dickinson

Would you instruct me now?

(Letters, II, 449)

The letter is more a plea for help than anything else. She

wants to renew their correspondence which has been interrupted

106

for several months. In a letter of June 9, 1866, to

Higginson, she again mentions Carlo. (Letters, II, 453-54)

Higginson had obviously made some reply to her letter of

January for which she thanks him. She then states that she

I

wishes for Carlo and that she does not explore very much

since the death of her "mute Confederate." She also enclosed

the second stanza of the following poem in reference to Carlo's death:

They say that "Time assuages"— Time never did assuage— An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age—

Time is a Test of Trouble— But not a Remedy— If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady—

(Poems, II, #686, 530; 1863)

The poem vigorously states that time does not mitigate pain.

On the contrary, time strengthens a suffering just as it

makes a muscle more inflexible and stiff. Time tests a

trouble, but does not cure it. If time does cure pain, it

simply proves that there was no real pain in the first place.

The poem's second stanza given in the letter designates the

loss of Carlo as the type of pain that time cannot heal. In

addition, the fact that the poem was actually written several

years before indicates that it contains Emily Dickinson's

107

attitude about troubles in general. Her poetry and her

life illustrate that she definitely did not forget a grief

but that the continuing trials and years only brought each

previous one into greater relief. *

This same depth of feeling and powers of remembrance

are illustrated in a letter that Emily Dickinson wrote to

her Aunt Katie, Mrs. Joseph A. Sweetser, when the latter's

son died on February 17, 1870. (Letters, II, 469) She

tells her that she had thought of not coming to her because

she knew how grieved her aunt was. Then she says that she

decided to come if only to kiss her, for "who could ache

for you like your little Niece—who knows how deep the Heart

is and how much it holds?" Emily Dickinson could not live

with hypocrisy, and she had the ability to say exactly and

only what she meant. She believed that she had a right and

a duty to comfort her aunt because she knew what it was to

suffer acutely.

In this letter, Emily Dickinson strives to comfort her

aunt with the same type of assurance she gave her Norcross

cousins. She says that no one is dead; the grave is only

the symbol of the grief of those left behind. She also

tells her aunt that the boy had been imprisoned by his long

illness and was freed by death. She then enclosed this poemr

108

Were it to be the last How infinite would be What we did not suspect was marked—

Our final interview..

(Poems, II, #1164, 812; 1870)

The last interview with a dying person would be immeasureab'ly

great if it could be recognized at the time as the last one.

Instead, however, Henry Sweetser died in Bis sleep, which

Emily Dickinson names as God's surprise gift of freedom.

Since she herself knew grief, she knew the gentle words of

condolence for those she loved. "3

On January 21, 1874, Emily Dickinson's Aunt Katie was

confronted with another loss which aroused Emily's compassion.

Joseph A. Sweetser left his home in New York on this date and

was never heard from again. Emily Dickinson captured the

pain of this incident in a poem that she sent to her aunt as

a form of sympathy•

Death's Waylaying riot the sharpest Of the thefts of Time— There Marauds a sorer Robber, Silence—is his name— No Assault, nor any Menace Both betoken him. But from Life's consummate Cluster— He supplants the Balm.

(Poems, III, #1296, 899; 1874)

3Leyda, II, 216.

109

The loss of a loved one by death is not as cruel as the

loss of one by total silence. There can be the solace of

Heaven and, therefore, a certain type of peace involved

with death; but never to know what has happened to the ,

loved one leaves incessant grief. There can then be no

peace, no balm. The subject of the poem and its inclusion

in the note to her aunt clearly state that it was inspired

by and written under the influence of this particular

tragedy.

The greatest tragedy of the period came with the death

of Emily Dickinson's father. Her relationship with him is

one of the many enigmatic aspects of her life. While Edward

Dickinson lived, his personality dominated the entire family.

His family was his reason for being. By the same token,

4

however, he was his family's reason for being. Both his

wife and his daughters existed primarily to create a home

of peace and comfort for him, and later for Austin. In turn,

Edward Dickinson provided the physical necessities of the

home and established the protective and sheltering circle

within which each member existed as a separate entity whose

4

Millicent Todd Bingham, Emily Dickinson's Home (New York, 1955), pp. 3-4.

110

personal feelings and attitudes were never touched upon by

another member of the family. Each member of the family

felt a close and decisive bond, which was never really

broken, with the established home. Furthermore, each loved 4

the other members. Nevertheless, Edward Dickinson set a

rigid pattern of integrity and of the sanctity of the indi-

vidual heart and mind. He never shared his personal feelings

with anyone, not even the members of his own family,^ nor

did he ever call upon his family to do so with him. In this

way, he insured the privacy of each member of the family.

It is evident from his dedicated%and strict management

of his home and his family's affairs that none of his child-

ren were able to approach their father on a personal plane

while he was alive. Even though Emily loved him intensely,

6

she told Mrs. Holland that Vinnie was her only parent.

Also, when his father's body arrived home from Boston, Austin

leaned over and kissed him with the comment that he had never 7

been able to do it while his father lived. Nevertheless,

the authority with which Edward Dickinson governed his house-

hold provided a protective shelter within which Emily

^Ibid.. pp. 5-6.

^Theodora Ward, The Capsule of the Mind (Cambridge, Mass., 1961), p. 85.

"^Bingham, p. 6.

Ill

Dickinson enjoyed a freedom she could not have known other-

wise and which was necessary for her development as a poet.

In one of her letters to Austin while he was in Boston

teaching, she defines the protective fortress of her father's *

creation, within which she and Vinnie are secure against the

attacks of the outside world. 8

When her father died in Boston on June 15, 1874, Emily

Dickinson immediately felt her fortress collapse. She was

now exposed and vulnerable to the abuses and attacks of the

world. Also, her father's death was the climax of a long

chain of tragedies from which she had not as yet recovered.

Even more important, now that her father was dead, she was

much more capable of seeing and appreciating him as an

individual. In a letter to T. W. Higginson regarding her

father, Emily stated: "His heart was pure and terrible,

and I think no other like it exists." (Letters, II, 528)

She always loved him; now she could understand him. In

another letter, Emily stated that while he lived, she and

Vinnie feared their father, but after he was lost to them,

they loved him with all their hearts.

^Leyda, I, 224.

112

It is only natural that a creative artist with Emily

Dickinson's acute sensitivity to life and her inherent

need for privacy would turn to her work as a means of ex-

pression of and release from sorrow. Several poems are «

clearly an expression of the grief caused by the loss of

her father. For example, in a letter to Samuel Bowles in

October of 1874 (Letters, II, 529), Emily Dickinson included

the following poem, designating it as a portrait of her

father:

As Summer into Autumn slips And yet we sooner say "The Summer" than "the Autumn," lest We turn the sun away,

i

And almost count it an Affront The presence to concede Of one however lovely, not The one that we have loved—

So we evade the charge of Years On one attempting shy The Circumvention of the Shaft Of Life's Declivity.

(Poems, III, #1346, 929-30; 1875)

The poem is an expression of Emily's desire to evade the

traps and attacks of life. It does not matter how lovely

the fast-approaching autumn is. Its presence demands the

end of summer, or of the sun. The summer was the end of

her father's life, and very likely he is regarded as her sun.

113

the center of warmth and security in her life. It is

impossible to limit the meaning of any work of art to one

point. Emily Dickinson may have had many meanings and

situations in mind when she wrote the poem. However, she

specifically labels it as a portrait of her father, and it

may be viewed and at least partially understood in this

light.

In July of 1874 after her father's death, Emily Dickin-

son wrote a letter to her Norcross cousins in which she

says, "Though it is many nights, my mind never comes home."

(Letters, II, 526) It is evident from her letters that this

statement was intensely true until her own death. She was

far too sensitive to every detail of life to be able to con-

ceal the emotional impression the loss of her father made on

her. In late January of 1875, Emily Dickinson wrote a letter

to her "little sister," as she always called Mrs. Holland,

in which she speaks of her father's death. (Letters, II, 537)

She enclosed the following poem:

How soft this Prison is How sweet these sullen bars No Despot but the King of Down Invented this repose

Of Fate if this is All Has he no added Realm A Dungeon but a Kinsman is Incarceration—Home.

(Poems, III, #1334, 922; 1875)

114

The poem implies that the devil, the despot of down, has

created her father's dungeon, or imprisonment, away from

her. It also implies that without his presence, the home

he left to her is a kinsman of his own prison. Because of 4

his death, she exists in living death. The first line of

the poem sent to Mrs. Holland read "How soft his Prison is"

rather than the corrected version given here. The word "his"

is used to more specifically commemorate Edward Dickinson,

rather than the impersonal "this."

Again, in a letter to T. W. Higginson in the spring of

1876, she speaks of the loss of her father and of the death 4

of B. F. Newton. (Letters, II, 551) In the letter, she

included this poem, which states that the only thing which

is worth stealing is immortality, and it cannot be stolen:

Take all away— The only thing worth larceny

Is left—the Immortality—

(Poems, III, #1365, 943; 1876)

This poem was evidently written in memory of these two men

whom she loved. They were stolen from her, and yet they

and she still possessed immortality. There was, then, some

definite consolation in the fact. There was very little

that she could be sure of, but the fact that man did possess

eternal life was always a basic truth to Emily Dickinson.-

115

Nevertheless, in the same letter to Higginson, Emily

Dickinson enclosed this poem:

"Faithful to the end" Amended From the Heavenly clause— Lucrative indeed the offer But the Heart withdraws—

"I will give" the base Proviso— Spare Your "crown of Life"— Those it fits, too fair to wear it—

Try it on Yourself—

(Poems, III, #1357, 938; 1876)

Again, the poem immediately follows a reference to her

father. The legal language such as "amended," "clause,"

and "proviso" is illustrative of the language he would

have used and understood* In contrast to the first poem,

this one shuns the gift of immortal life as being unworthy

of the people to whom it is offered. The poem might also

mean that the promise of a life in Heaven as a reward for

faithful service to God on earth is inadequate. Those who

have earned it have outstripped the prize in value. Also,

the poem may mean that Emily Dickincon has been faithful,

and her crown of life is that she is still alive. Without

her father, however, it is not worth having. However it is

interpreted, the poem denotes that Emily was unwilling to

lose her father, or Newton. From her point of view, they

were worth more to her than the reward they have received

116

was worth to them. The Biblical reference that introduces

each stanza comes from Revelation 2:10 which reads, "be

thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of

life." The crown was not enough compensation for Emily

Dickinson.

As well as the poems which are specifically related

to her father's death, Emily Dickinson wrote several in the

face of her friends' personal losses which made her unhappy

for their sakes as well as for the memory of the death of

her father. For example, after the death of Mary Channing

Higginson in September, 1877, Emily enclosed the poem, "Per-

haps she does not go so far." (Letters, II, 590) Later in

the same year, she wrote a letter to Harriet and Martha

Dickinson whose father had died in December, 1875. (Letters,

II, 591) In this letter, she speaks of the death of her own

father and included a revised copy of the poem in an attempt

to comfort Harriet and Martha as well as herselfj

Perhaps they do not go so far As we who stay, suppose— Perhaps come closer, for the lapse Of their corporeal clothes—

It may be know so certainly How short we have to fear That comprehension fluctuates And estimates us there—

(Poems, III, #1399, 969; 1877)

117

The poem states that it is possible that the individuals

who suffer the loss of a. loved one are actually drawn

closer to the loved one than would be possible if the

latter were still alive. As well as being closer to them

in relation to understanding, those bereaved may be closer

in relation to time than they realize in that they cannot

even really comprehend that the loved one is dead until

they too reach Heaven. In other words, death cannot really

separate people in either sympathy or time. Emily Dickinson

certainly felt closer to her father as an individual after

his death than she did while he was alive. Also, she would

find comfort in believing that she would be reunited with

him and all those whom she had lost.

Another poem was dedicated to the memory of her father

and Samuel Bowles. Bowles died on January 16, 1878.

(Letters, II, 599) Early in 1878, Emily Dickinson wrote a

letter to Dr. J. G. Holland, who was slowly recovering from

an illness. (Letters. II, 605-6) She speaks of Mr. Bowles

and her father. Immediately afterwards, she included this

poem:

These held their Wick above the West—

Till when the Red declined— Or how the Amber aided it— Defied to be defined—

118

Then waned without disparagement In a. dissembling Hue That would not let the Eye decide Did it abide or no—

(Poems, III, #1390, 957-58; 1877)

The poem is a tribute to the two men, stating that they

lived their lives in such a way that it is difficult for

others to acknowledge that the two are dead.

Because of their inclusion in letters immediately<

following references to Edward Dickinson, it is as definite

as it can be a hundred years after their creation that Emily

Dickinson wrote these poems in the face of the crisis of his

death. However, there are several other poems which very

probably also grew out of this experience since the pain of

it existed for years after the tragedy itself. For example,

Johnson states that poem #1312 may have been written in

Edward Dickinson's memory:

To break so vast a Heart Required a Blow as vast— No Zephyr felled this Cedar straight—

'Twas underserved Blast—

(Poems, III, #1312, 909; 1874)

The words "vast," "Heart," and "Cedar" give the strong,

upright image that Emily Dickinson certainly always associated

with her father. In the letter to Higginson which has already

been cited, she made a reference to her father's heart which.

119

sounds very much like this poem, calling it "pure" and

"terrible."

In her letters to various people after her father's

death, Emily Dickinson mentioned the fact that during the

last year of his life he had saved some birds by feeding

them after a late snow storm. For example, in a letter

to her Norcross cousins in the summer of 1875, she mentions

that the birds her father rescued were playing on his grave

and that nature is either much too young or much too old to

feel. (Letters, II, 543) Again, in June of 1880, she

wrote Mary Bowles about the incident. (Letters, III, 662-63)

She also told Mary that, unthinking of their benefactor, the

descendents of the birds he saved were singing. There is

an undated poem which possibly grew out of Emily Dickinson's

memories of this incident in her father's life:

How dare the robins sing,

When men and women hear Who since they went to their account Have settled with the year I — Paid all that life had earned In one consummate bill, And now, what life or death can do Is immaterial. Insulting is the sun To him whose mortal light Beguiled of immortality Bequeaths him to the night. Extinct be every hum l"n deference to him

120

Whose garden wrestles with the dew,

At daybreak overcome I

(Poems, III, #1724, 1162)

How dare the birds sing when men and women have settled

their account with life? The sun is insulting to a man

who has given up his light, his life, for immortality.

Every hum, referring to the birds again, should be silenced

in respect for the man whose garden fights the dew only

to be overcome at daybreak, the garden Emily Dickinson

would have grown at her father's house and the one she

probably watched being covered with dew as she sat up late

into the night. By using the words "men" and "women,".

Emily Dickinson states that the poem was not strictly

dedicated to any one person, or loss. However, the indignant

reference to the birds singing is evidence that at least one

of these men was Edward Dickinson.

Another poem which was possibly written in her father's

memory is #1506 :

Summer is shorter than any one—

Life is shorter than Summer— Seventy Years is spent as quick As an only Dollar— Sorrow—now—is polite—and stays— See how well we spurn him— Equally to abhor Delight— Equally retain him—

(Poems, III, #1506, 1039; 1880)

121

The summer is the shortest season of the year, and life is

shorter than that. Seventy years, the approximate age of

Edward Dickinson at his death, is spent as quickly as one

dollar when that is a.ll there is to spend. Now that this

tragedy has occurred, now that Edward Dickinson is dead,

sorrow lingers on even though he is not welcome. Even

though they seemingly reject sorrow, in their sorrow, they

loathe pleasure, thereby retaining the sorrow they would

spurn.

The poem certainly designates the lingering effect that

the loss of her father had on Emily Dickinson. For one

thing, it reversed her role in the family from child to

parent. Even more important, this crucial blow along with

the ones leading up to it left her less capable of facing

the tragedies to come.

CHAPTER VII

A CONCLUSION OF REPEATED TRAGEDY

1876-1886

The remaining years of Emily Dickinson's life were

dominated by the repeated tragedy of death. The chain

began with the death of President Stearns and ended with

that of Helen Hunt Jackson. Emily Dickinson was assaulted

by death until she had lost most of the friends she loved

plus a large portion of her family. She brought the ever

growing grief for her father to almost every successive

loss in her attempts to accept it and to comfort those

involved. Because the burden constantly grew, each tragedy

found her less capable of doing so.

The sequence began with President Stearns' death on

June 8, 1876. The Dickinson family had long been close

friends and associates of the Stearns family. It was the

death of Frazer Stearns in the Civil War that appalled both

Austin and Emily Dickinson. With the elder Stearns' death,

Emily Dickinson sent a poem in his memory to Mrs. William A.

Stearns s

123

Love's stricken "why" Is all that love can speak— Built of but just a syllable The hugest hearts that break.

(Poems, III, #1368, 945; 1876)

When deprived of the loved one, love can ask only "why."

There is no power to say more. This one word composes the

largest hearts, the hearts that break with the loss of a

friend or a relative. The theme that the fewest words

often convey the deepest meaning is repeated in several of

Emily Dickinson's letters. For example, when her Uncle

Joseph Sweetser disappeared, never to return home, Emily

Dickinson sent her aunt a poem, which was discussed in

chapter VI, accompanied by a note that said only, "Saying

nothing, My Aunt Katie, sometimes says the Most." (Letters,

II, 521) In the letter to Mrs. Stearns, she says nothing

but sent only the poem, thereby saying more than anyone

else could.

Samuel Bowles' death on January 16, 1878,*" was a

severe blow to Emily because of the length and intensity

of their friendship. Bowles was her friend and confidant

for twenty-six years. When her mother was seriously ill

from June to November of 1878, Emily Dickinson wrote to

•*-Jay Leyda, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (New Haven, 1960), II, 286.

124

Higginson, who had recently returned from a trip to Europe.

She said, "I missed yourself and Mr. Bowles, and without a

Father, seemed even vaster than before." (Letters, III, 627)

The simple statement that she missed "Mr. Bowles" says a

great deal. The fact that his death made her even more

aware that she was fatherless also says a great deal about

the significance he possessed in her life.

Emily Dickinson wrote several poems in memory of Bowles.

The poem "These held their Wick above the West" is one which

has already been discussed as dedicated to Bowles and her

father. However, there are others which were written more

exclusively in his memory. Immediately after Bowles'' death,

Emily Dickinson wrote Mary Bowles a letter of sympathy, to

which Mary replied. Then early in the same year, Emily

Dickinson wrote her again to speak of Bowles and to include

the following poem:

Not that he goes—we love him more Who led us while he strayed. Beyond earth's trafficking frontier, For what he moved, he made.

(Poems, III, #1435, 994; 1878)

The poem repudiates the usual tendency to glorify a person

beyond his due once he is dead. It says that Bowles deserved

all the praise and respect he received. He was the type of

125

person who was large enough to rise above the world and to

lead others so that the beauties he saw became real to them.

Emily Dickinson comments in this same letter that while

talking to Bowles one time his "beautiful eyes rose till

they were out of reach of mine, in some hallowed fathom."

In her opinion, Bowles was not only the type of person

described in the poem, but the epitome of such a man. Even

before his death, she made a very similar statement to him

in a letter.. "You have the most triumphant Face out of

Paradise—probably because you are there constantly, instead

of Ultimately." (Letters, II, 574) Bowles was an accom-

plished individualist, and he held a very special place in

Emily Dickinson's life.

In June of 1878, Emily Dickinson wrote a letter to

Higginson in which she states that Bowles was not willing

to die, and mentions Mary Channing Higginson who died nine

months before. (Letters, II, 610-611) In the letter, she

enclosed poem #1433;

How brittle are the Piers On which our Faith doth tread— No Bridge below doth totter so— Yet none hath such a Crowd.

It is as old as God— Indeed—'twas built by him—

126

He sent his Son to test the Plank,

And he pronounced it firm.

(Poems, III, #1433, 933; 1878)

The poem is a rather ironic statement of the strength of

the foundations of man's faith. No bridge made by man is

as insecure, even though man-made bridges do not have to

carry as much weight. Nevertheless, God made the bridge,

sent His Son to test it, and the latter said it was firm.

The test, however, did not necessarily prove to Emily

Dickinson that it was worth entrusting her friends to it.

The poem is preceded by the following statement: "That

those have immortality with whom we talked about it, makes

in no more mighty—but perhaps more sudden." The comment

applies both to Higginson and his wife as well as to her-

self and Bowles. The fact that the two are gone to

immortality does not mean that it is any greater; it simply

means that it is more sudden, more quick to take that which

it does not deserve.

Then in June of 1880, Emily Dickinson wrote a letter

to Maria Whitney, who worked for and was extremely close to

Bowles, in which she refers to their mutual "Friend" Bowles.

Immediately following this reference, she included this poemt

127

Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell Be once disclosed to us The clamor for their loveliness Would burst the Loneliness—•

(Poems, III, #1493, 1031; 1880)

The darkness is sweet because their friends, particularly

Bowles, dwell there; but it is still darkness to those who

are left behind. If it were ever disclosed to these, their

clamor over the the loveliness, beauty, of the people there

would burst through the loneliness and bring peace. If the

ones left here could only see and know what it was truly

like where their loved ones are, they could be more content

to be without them.

In 1884, Emily Dickinson wrote Sue a letter in which

she mentions a biography of Samuel Bowies' life that was

to be written. (Letters, III, 828) She then calls upon

Sue to remember the unusual brilliance of their friend's

personality;

You remember his swift way of wringing and flinging away a Theme, and others picking it up and gazing bewildered after him, and the prance that crossed his Eye at such times was unrepeatable—

Immediately after this description of Bowles, she included

poem #1599;

128

Though the great Waters sleep. That they are still the Deep, We cannot doubt— No vacillating God Ignited this Abode To put it out—

(Poems. Ill, #1599, 1101? 1884)

The poem upholds Emily Dickinson's belief that man is

immortal. This "Abode," this life, was not begun by a God

who would destroy it. Even though the life is not here,

and perhaps not in the same form, it is essentially the

same. It does continue to exist. Thomas H. Johnson states

that the poem was also sent to Benjamin Kimball in February

of 1885 in memory of his relative Otis P. Lord. However,

in Johnson's three volume edition of Emily Dickinson's

letters, the only letter recorded as having been sent to

Kimball in February, 1885, does not contain the poem or any

portion of it. Instead, another verse is included.

The last poem which was written in memory of Bowles

was included in a letter sent to his son, his namesake.

(Letters, III, 839) It was sent with a flower from a tree

Bowles had given Emily Dickinson, and she wished his son to

accept it in his memory. She then enclosed poem #1616t

Who abdicated Ambush

And went the way of Dusk, And now against his subtle Name There stands an Asterisk

129

As Confident of him as w e — Impregnable we are— The whole of Immortality Secreted in a Star.

(Poems, III, #1616, 1109; 1884)

The poem states that Bowles gave up life and went the way

of dusk, death. Now an asterisk, which contains all of

immortality, stands beside his name. This star makes

immortality certain for him, just as those who are.con-

fident in him are made impregnable by the same star,

immortality. Bowies' friendship had been a source of

safety and stability in Emily Dickinson's life because of

his nature and because of his understanding and acceptance

of her nature. His death soon after that of her father

was a severe blow to her own health, just as each of the

repeated losses of her friends gradually sapped her strength

and intensified her nervous tension.

Two years after Samuel Bowles' death, T. W. Higgj.nson's

infant daughter Louisa died. Emily Dickinson read the news

in the Springfield Republican and wrote Higginson to say

that she was sorry and that she "wished it were not so. She

also sent this poem:

The Face in evanescence lain Is more distinct than our's— And our's surrendered for it's sake As capsules are for Flower's—

130

Or is it the confiding sheen Dissenting to be won Descending to enamor us Of Detriment divine?

(Poems, III, #1490, 1929; 1880)

The face of the dead child is clearer than the ones left

behind which are surrendered up for its sake, just as the

capsule gives way to the flower. The trusting smile on

the child's face looks down but cannot be captured, as if

it would enthrall those left behind with the divine hurt

of losing it. The poem readily captures the impression of

a child with the angelic face, confident smile, and teasing

manner. Emily Dickinson was fully capable of feeling the

pain of others even though she realized that no one could

mitigate another's grief.

Every successive year now brought about the loss of

a cherished friend or a member of her family. On October 12,

2

1881, Dr. Holland died. Emily Dickinson wrote Mrs. Holland

immediately and continued to do so for months in her attempt

to comfort this woman whom she chose to call her sister.

Before Christmas of 1881, she wrote Mrs. Holland a letter

in which she sent this poem in Dr. Holland's memory: How much of Source escapes with thee— How chief thy sessions be—

%

2Leyda, II, 355,

131

For thou hast borne a universe Entirely away.

(Poems, III, #1517, 1047; 1881)

The loss of the loved one leaves nothing behind. He was

literally all. Emily Dickinson's friends were all to her,

and she gradually found nothing left as her storehouse was

repeatedly robbed.

Then 1882 brought the death of her dearest earthly

friend, Charles Wadsworth, and of her mother. Mrs. Dickinson

3

died on November 14, 1882, after years of being confined

to her bed. Ever since Edward Dickinson died, Lavinia and

Emily Dickinson had grown closer to their mother because of

her dependence on them. She was now their child, and they

worked to make her as comfortable and happy as possible.

The following poem was written in 1882 and was probably

occasioned by either Wadsworth's or her mother's death:

My Wars are laid away in Books— I have one Battle more— A Foe whom I have never seen But oft has scanned me o'er— And hesitated me between And others at my side, But chose the best—Neglecting me—till All the rest, have died— How sweet if I am not forgot By Chums that passed away— Since Playmates at threescore and ten Are such a scarcity—

(Poems, III, #1549, 1068-69; 1882)

3Ibid., p. 387.

132

Every battle is over now except the very last one, the

battle with the foe death. She has never seen him, but

he has scanned her over several times. However, he always

chose someone better than her, a friend. -She hopes that

these friends who have gone before her have not forgotten

her since it is so difficult to find playmates when one is

seventy. Probably, the poem was written in Wadsworth's

memory since he would be more of a friend than her mother.

However, Emily Dickinson is only fifty-two at this time,

whereas her mother is seventy-eight. Therefore, the poem

might well have been written in Mrs. Dickinson's memory,

and she then would be the person in the poem who hopes

that those who have gone before her remember her when she

arrives.

Thomas H. Johnson states that poem #1562 was written

in memory of George Eliot and later adapted to a personal

loss. However, the poem sounds very much like a description

of Mrs. Dickinson:

Her Losses made our Gains ashamed— She bore Life's empty Pack As gallantly as if the East Were swinging at her Back Life's empty Pack is heaviest, As every Porter knows— In vain to punish Honey— It only sweeter grows.

(Poems, III, #1562, 1076; 1883)

133

Emily Dickinson's mother literally carried an empty pack.

She was a widow and an invalid. She suffered greatly, and

yet she never complained. She grew ever sweeter and child-

like with successive suffering. The honey could not be

punished into bitterness.

The following poem was enclosed in a letter sent to

Maria Whitney in the Spring of 1883:

To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings. Or Love's convenient things, Enticed to come.

Fashioning what she is, Fathoming what she was, We deem we dream— And that dissolves the days Through which existence strays Homeless at home.

(Poems, III, #1573, 1084; 1883)

The poem states that Mrs. Dickinson has gone to paradise

where she will be received by the other saints. Her daugh-

ters think about what she was and what she is now until

they fear that they dream. They then exist in this unreal

dream-like state until life dissolves away, and the absence

of their mother causes them to be without a home while exist-

ing in the house that, has always been home. The poem is

preceded in the letter by a paragraph which tells how lonely

134

they are without their mother and now everything is so

unfamiliar that they must search out the meaning.

The last poem to be discussed in relation to the death

of Emily Dickinson's mother is #1703:

T'was comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock Diversion from the Dying Theme To hear the children play But wrong the more That these could live And this of ours must die

(Poems, III, #1703, 1152)

The poem is undated, but it was probably written after 1883.

It is more than likely a reference to Emily Dickinson's

mother's death since that is the only person she would have

had immediate contact with any time near the writing of the

poem. Also, the reference to the children playing outside

while "this of ours must die" gives the impression that the

person dying is also a child. Gilbert Dickinson did die

in 1883, but there would have been no point in using the

feminine pronoun to refer to the boy. More probably, the

child was Mrs. Dickinson, who was in fact her daughters'

child.

Emily Dickinson was now without the home she had

cherished so long, but the tragedies of life were not ended..

135

Less than a year after her mother's death, Gilbert Dickinson,

Austin's youngest child, died. Gilbert was his father's

child as neither of the other two could be. Emily Dickinson,

therefore, had a very special love for him. Gilbert died

on October 5, 1883,4 and Emily Dickinson wrote Sue a letter

filled with the excessive praise of one who loves a beautiful

child. (Letters, III, 799) She calls him the "Dawn and

Meridian in one." She also enclosed this poem:

Pass to thy Rendezvous of Light, Pangless except for us— Who slowly ford the Mystery Which thou hast leaped across!

(Poems, III, #1564, 1078; 1883)

Gilbert has gone to Heaven while he was still young, suffering

little pain, leaping across the gulf as if he were at play.

The only pain involved is for those whom he has left to

decipher the mystery. They must grow old and lonely before

they may join him. In this same letter, Emily states that

death did not surprise her, but that his passenger did.

Emily Dickinson sent Sue several poems immediately

after Gilbert's death. The poems and notes were certainly

an attempt to comfort Sue, but they were also an attempt to

console herself, to give the pain expression so that it would

4Leyda, II, 407.

136

not suffocate her. The next poem was included in a letter

written in early October. (Letters, III, 800-801) The

letter does not make any direct reference to Gilbert, but

it includes the enigmatic sentences which she could make

say so much to the person for whom they were intended.

The letter is obviously an effort to comfort Sue, and the

poem included is dedicated to Gilbert:

Expanse cannot be lost— Not Joy, but a Decree Is Deity— His Scene, Infinity— Whose rumor's Gate was shut so tight Before my Beam was sown, Not even a Prognostic's push Could make a Dent thereon—

The World that thou hast opened Shuts for thee, But not alone, We all have followed thee— Escape more slowly To thy Tracts of Sheen— The Tent is listening,

But the Troops are gone!

(Poems, III, #1584, 1091-1092; 1883)

God's decree made Gilbert's scene infinity instead of the

earthly scene with his family who cannot follow him. How-

ever, they ask that he go a little slower since they must

follow in his path. The line "thy Tracts of Sheen" repeats

the same idea expressed in #1564 in the line "thy Rendezvous

of Light" and in #1490 in the line "Or is it the confiding

137

sheen." The tent and troups would refer to Gilbert's

imaginary games that he played in his aunt's yard.

Another short poem was also sent in the same month:

Climbing to reach the costly Hearts To which he gave the worth, He broke them, fearing punishment He ran away from Earth—

(Poems. Ill, #1566, 1079; 1883)

Gilbert bro'ke the hearts to which he gave their only value.

The pain referred to is probably the pain his family endured

because of his illness. He then left punishment behind on

earth and escaped to Heaven. Another short poem sent in a

letter to Sue reads very much like this one:

Some Arrows slay but whom they strike--But this slew all but him— Who so appareled his Escape— Too trackless for a Tomb—

(Poems, III, #1565, 1078; 1883)

Gilbert is not allowed to die in any of the poems. It is

as if the very word in relation to him were unbearable. He

escapes, or runs away, or passes, but he does not die. On

the contrary, the arrow which struck and normally would have

killed him slew everyone except him.

Finally, in August, 1884, Emily Dickinson wrote a. letter

to her Norcross cousins saying that she was recovering from

an attack of nerves. (Letters, III, 826-827) At first,

138

however, she thought that she was either dead or dying.

Then she refers to Gilbert, saying he never changes, "and

his dim society is companion still. But it is growing

damp and I must go in. Memory's fog is rising." Then

follows poem #1603;

The going from a world we know To one a wonder still

Is like the child's adversity Whose vista is a hill,

Behind the hill is sorcery And everything unknown,

But will the secret compensate For climbing it alone?

(Poems, III, #1603, 1103-1104; 1884)

In one of her letters to Sue, Emily Dickinson says that

Gilbert loved secrets. (Letters, III, 799) However, she

wonders if the secret on the other side of life will be

enough to make up for having to reach it all alone. The

question applies not only to Gilbert, but to herself as

well. Emily Dickinson would probably have answered in the

negative.

The final blow which completely drained her strength

and which plunged her into her own fatal illness came with

5

the death of Otis P. Lord on March 13, 1884. Lord was a

friend of the Dickinson family, and after the death of his

^Leyda, II, 418,

139

wife, he and Emily Dickinson came to love each other. The

details as to how the relationship began are not known, but

Emily Dickinson's letters to him are full of protestations

of her love. One of the first poems which grew out of this

loss was sent in a. letter to Mrs. Holland during the same

month. (Letters, III, 815-816) In the letter, Emily

Dickinson tells Mrs. Holland about Lord's death and asks

her to "Forgive the Tears that fell for few, but that few

too many, for was not each a World?" She also says she

hopes that all of Mrs. Holland's loved ones are secure for

now and the future, and then enclosed the following poem;

Quite empty, quite at rest,

The Robin locks her Nest, and tries her Wings, She does not know a Route But puts her Craft about For rumored Springs— She does not ask for Noon— She does not ask for Boon, Crumbless and homeless, of but one request— The Birds she lost—

(Poems, III, #1606, 1106; 1884)

She does not know where or how to go, but she searches for

rumored, vague springs, denoting birth, youth, and life in

general. The "rumored Springs" might also be a reference

to a life after death—suposedly better than this life. She

seeks nothing except those she has lost. With Lord's death,

all of the losses she had suffered became intolerable. Each

140

was literally hers, not just her friend, but part of

her.

Late in the same month, Emily Dickinson wrote her

Norcross cousins a letter thanking them for their sym-

pathy at her loss of another friend. She included a

poem, explaining the significance of her friends:

Each that we lose takes part of us; A crescent still abides, Which like the moon, some turbid night,

Is summoned by the tides.

(Poems, III, #1605, 1105; 1884)

It is not simply that she has lost one, or even several,

people that she loved. The grief is much deeper, because

she was more sensitive to every emotion, every aspect of

life. Her capacity to completely absorb and live life was

so tremendous that she could only take small draughts at

a time. The loss of a friend was the loss of part of her

own life. All that remains now is a crescent, which will

also be called away.

The last friend Emily Dickinson lost was Helen Hunt 6

Jackson, who died on August 12, 1885. Mrs. Jackson was the

friend who praised Emily Dickinson as a poet and repeatedly

urged her to publish her poems. In a letter to Higginson in

^Leyda, II, 455.

141

April, 1886, (Letters, III, 904) Emily Dickinson enclosed

two short verses in Mrs. Jackson's memory. She thanked

him for the sonnet he wrote, also as a memorial, and

included this poem:

The immortality she gave We borrowed at her Grave— For just one Plaudit famishing,

The Might of Human love—

(Poems, III, #1648, 1128; 1886)

This poem was accompanied by a second verse which was sep-

arate from the first but which reads as if it were a second

stanza rather than a separate poem'i

Of Glory not a Beam is left But her Eternal House— The Asterisk is for the Dead,

The Living, for the Stars—

(Poems, III, #1647, 1127; 1886)

Both verses are a tribute to the last friend she lost. She

applauds her fellow poet for the immortality of her poetry

but knew that the praise needed was human love. There is

nothing left of the glory of her life except her home in

Heaven. The flat, cold asterisk is for the dead; the bril-

liant, glowing stars belong to the living. There were few

of Emily Dickinson's loved ones and friends left to claim

their portion of the stars.

142

The long succession of tragedies and personal losses

was at an end. On June 14, 1884, Emily Dickinson suffered

7*

the first attack of her fatal illness. In a letter to

her Norcrcss cousins in August of 1884, she tells them of

her illness and says that the doctor called it "'revenge of

the nerves'; but who but Death has wronged them?" (Letters,

III, 826-27) She refers not to her death, but to the many

deaths she has had to face, deaths more tragic than her own

because she not only had to experience them, but live through

them to be the victim of others. Then, two years later on 8

May 15, 1886, she died, never to have to face death again.

Emily Dickinson's entire life, with little exception,

was spent in Amherst in her father's house, and yet she

experienced more, and that to a fuller degree, than do most

people who travel all over the world. She was receptive to

all of the features and experiences of life. In her poetry,

she recorded her reactions to and impressions of these var-

ious aspects. Therefore, from her childhood to the death of

Helen Hunt Jackson, her poetry composes the mirror of her

life, a life filled with heartache and tragedy, but at the

same time a life filled with the joy of being alive. Leyda., II, 425.

8Ibid., p. 471.

143

Emily Dickinson's life began in the sheltered seclusion

of her father's home, and that home was her fortress. She

came to realize at an early age that there were questions

to which she had to know the answers. Since she could not

accept the preconceived, conventional answers given to her,

she sought out her own. Her search often lead her to agony,

and this agony was voiced in the crisis poems. These poems

give a terse, but exact, account of Emily Dickinson's life.

Beginning with her recollections of childhood with the

warmth and comfort of her home being assaulted by loneliness

and death, she recorded her daily existence. Then the death

of her first friend, Sophia Holland, made her realize how

very precious and precarious life was. She clung to her

friends with a fervor that most of them were incapable of

returning. Abiah Root and Susan Gilbert were the first of

her friends whom she lost through betrayal. Then, death

claimed her second friend, Benjamine F. Newton. In each case,

she expressed her loss in her poetry, her only means of true

relief. Even though she loved her family intensely, she

found it difficult to truly communicate with them. Her

parents provided privacy and her brother and sister provided

companionship. However, her true feelings about the questions

which troubled her could not be discussed with either of them.

144

Along with death, Christianity was one of the questions

which Emily Dickinson battled to understand. Her concept

of God came from the Hell-fire and brimstone preaching of

the New England churches. She could not love such a God,

but her indoctrination was so complete that she could not

conceive of any other. The only aspect of formalized reli-

gion which she could completely believe in was that man.

possessed immortality. However, she was as equally con-

vinced that those who achieved immortality had outstripped

the prize in value. Emily Dickinson tried to discuss her

conflict with the organized church with Abiah Root, but

Abiah proved to be an unwilling listener. She was the only

member of her family who did not accept the principles of

the church and join it, making it impossible to discuss her

questioning attitude with them. Therefore, she again turned

to her poetry.

The progressing years seemed to compete with each other

in bringing the most sorrows and deaths. Emily Dickinson's

nerves were strained to the breaking point in 1861 and 1862

when she suffered the blow which almost deprived her of her

sanity. The man she deeply and completely loved, known to

us only as "Master," was lost to her. The circumstances of

her love and her final loss of him are unknown today.

145

However, her passionate letters and poetry make it clear that

she loved him so intensely that losing him was unbearable

to her. Emily Dickinson loved life and was so enthralled

by it that she had to shut herself off from all but the most

significant and meaningful aspects of it. There was so

little time that she felt compelled not to waste any of it

on the less important experiences. Nevertheless, the complete

loss of the man she loved threw her into a state of living

death in which she longed for death itself. Her poetry

graphically expresses the agony she endured.

With help, possibly from T. W. Higginson, her strength

of character pulled her through this crisis. The rest of

her life, however, was now filled with death. The death of

her father crumbled her fortress. Nevertheless, she now

found that she was needed at home. Her mother completely

collapsed after her father's death, and Emily and Lavinia

became their mother's parent. With every successive loss,

her life dwindled. Her friends were her life. She could

not bear to lose them. She tried to sing and comfort through

her poetry, and she often suceeded. Death was even stronger,

however, and her nerves were finally snapped by its strain.

Her own death was not as painful as the others she faced,

because at least now there were no others to be endured.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Books

Anderson, Charles R., Emily Dickinson's Poetry: Stairway of Surprise, Garden City, New York, Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1960.

Bianchi, Martha Dickinson, Emily Dickinson Face to Face, New York, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1932.

Bingham, Millicent Todd, Emily Dickinson's Home; Letters of Edward Dickinson, New York Harper and Brothers Publishers, 1955.

Dickinson, Emily, The Letters of Emily Dickinson, edited by Thomas H. Johnson (3 volumes), Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1958.

, The Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited by Thomas H. Johnson (3 volumes), Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1955.

Griffith, Clark, The Long Shadow: Emily Dickinson's Tragic Poetry, Princeton, New Jersey, Princeton University Press, 1964.

Johnson, Thomas H., Emily Dickinson: An Interpretive Biography, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1955.

Leyda, Jay, The Years and Hours of Emily Dickinson (2 volumes), New Haven, Yale University Press, 1960.

Power, Sister Mary James, Iri the Name of the Bee, New York, Sheed and Ward, 1943.

Ward, Theodora Van Wagenen, The Capsule of the Mind: Chapters in the Life of Emily Dickinson, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1961.

1 A(k

147

Whicher, George Frisbie, This Was a_ Poet, Michigan, Univer-sity of Michigan, 1960.

Articles

Anderson, Charles R., "The Conscious Self in Emily Dickinson's Poetry," American Literature 31 (November, 1959), 299-301.

Blackmur, R. P., "Emily Dickinson: Notes on Prejudice and Fact," Southern Review, 3 (July, 1937-April, 1938), 323-347.

Campbell, Harry Modean, "Dickinson's 'The Last Night That She Lived,'" Explicator, No. 7 (May, 1950), item 54.

Carpenter, Frederick I., "Emily Dickinson and the Rhymes of Dream," The University of Kansas City Review, (Autumn, 1953), 113-120.

Marcellino, Lieutenant Ralph, "Round Table," College English 7 (November, 1945), 102-103.

Smith, Russell St. Clair, "Dickinson's 'I Dreaded That First Robin So,'" Explicator, 5, No. 4 (February, 1947), item 31,