Dickinson: Safe in their alabaster chambers

The Springfield Republican in its March 1, 1862 issue included a short poem under the title "The Sleeping." Though it was printed anonymously, the author was 31-year old Emily Dickinson. The poem is notable not only because it is one of only a few published in her lifetime but also because it is one of only a few which she showed to another and asked for advice (which she followed). While working on the poem, she asked for a critique from Susan Gilbert Dickinson, wife of the poet's brother Austin. The poem, now known as "Safe in their alabaster chambers," was also one of several that she sent to Thomas Wentworth Higginson, asking if he could see if her verse was "alive."

The poem refers to dead bodies in their coffins awaiting the Biblical Resurrection. Scholar Helen Vendler notes the irony in the second stanza: the sounds of nature cannot be heard or appreciated by the dead with their "stolid ears". The final line somewhat blasphemy leaves doubt if a resurrection will really occur.

Today, other than the published version which was edited by the newspaper, there are two known versions of the poem, each with significant word choice changes. After its publication, Susan Dickinson offered suggestions particularly to improve the second stanza of her sister-in-law's poem. The word "Sleepy" replaced "Lie" in the earlier version, possibly to allow a more obvious possibility of awaking in the Resurrection. Here is the new version with its vastly different second stanza, using Dickinson's original and unique style of capitalization and dashes:

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers—
Untouched by Morning —
And untouched by noon—
Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection,
Rafter of Satin, and Roof of Stone.

Grand go the Years,
In the Crescent above them —
Worlds scoop their Arcs—
And Firmaments — row —
Diadems — drop —
And Doges — surrender —
Soundless as Dots,
On a Disc of Snow.

In glided a little plain woman

"This is a lovely place," wrote Thomas Wentworth Higginson to his wife on August 17, 1870 from Amherst, Massachusetts. Earlier that day, he had met his "hitherto unseen correspondent," a somewhat reclusive woman named Emily Dickinson, who had invited him to her family's home.

 Eight years earlier, Higginson had written an article which encouraged new writers. Dickinson was inspired to contact him, including a few of her poems, and ask for his advice. "Mr Higginson," she wrote, "Are you too deeply occupied to say if my Verse is alive?" Higginson and Dickinson (who had already published some of her poems) became friends by correspondence for the next few years. It was not until that August day in 1870 that they met face to face; Higginson recorded that moment in his letter:

A step like a pattering child's in entry & in glided a little plain woman with two smooth bands of reddish hair & a face... with no good feature — in a very plain & exquisitely clean white pique & a blue worsted shawl. She came to me with two day lilies which she put in a sort of childlike way into my hand & said "These are my introduction" in a soft frightened breathless childlike voice — & added under her breath Forgive me if I am frightened; I never see strangers & hardly know what I say — but she talked soon & thenceforward continuously... sometimes stopping to ask me to talk instead of her — but readily recommencing.

Though he noted "I never was with anyone who drained my nerve power so much," Higginson noted he was glad he did not live near her. His wife joked, "Oh why do the insane cling to you?" Nevertheless, Higginson maintained his correspondence and even spoke at Dickinson's funeral years later. It was after her death that the controversy started. This short poem was dated to 1870, the year the two met:

Some Days retired from the rest
In soft distinction lie
The Day that a Companion came
Or was obliged to die

*Information from this post can be found in The Gardens of Emily Dickinson (2005) by Judith Farr and A Summer of Hummingbirds: Love, Art, and Scandal in the Intersecting Worlds of Emily Dickinson, Mark Twain, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Martin Johnson Heade (2009) by Christopher Benfey.

Are you too deeply occupied to say if my Verse is alive?

Thomas Wentworth Higginson published an article titled "Letter to a Young Contributor" in the Atlantic Monthly. In it, he talked to a hypothetical up-and-coming writer in the form of a letter addressed "my dear young gentleman or young lady." The conversational article discusses the relationship between editors and wannabe writers, noting that there is no antagonism between the two. Their goals, he writes, are one and the same: "No editor can ever afford the rejection of a good thing, and no author the publication of a bad one." The editor is challenged to find the line between good and bad manuscripts for publication — or, more accurately, judging the levels of mediocrity. Higginson does not want to discourage writers, however, and instead offers hints and suggestions: "Be neither too lax nor too precise in your use of language," for example, "the one fault ends in stiffness, the other in slang."

Higginson also says that a writer need not defend himself or herself. "If your work does not vindicate itself, you cannot vindicate it," he says. Perhaps it was that notion that inspired Emily Dickinson to respond. Her letter is dated April 15, 1862:

Mr Higginson,
Are you too deeply occupied to say if my Verse is alive?
The Mind is so near itself — it cannot see, distinctly — and I have none to ask —
Should you think it breathed — and had you the leisure to tell me, I should feel quick gratitude... I enclose my name — asking you, if you please — Sir — to tell me what is true?
That you will not betray me — it is needless to ask — since Honor is it's own pawn — 

With her letter, she included a card with her name and four poems. Higginson did respond; he encouraged her and later assisted in the editing of a posthumous collection of her works, become Dickinson's most important advocate. Among the poems Dickinson sent him in that initial correspondence was "Safe in their Alabaster Chambers":

Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone. Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine;
Babbles the bee in a stolid ear;
Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence,—
Ah, what sagacity perished here!

Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.

*I am indebted to Michael Ryan's A Difficult Grace: On Poets, Poetry, and Writing (2000) for the text of this letter, transcribed faithfully using Dickinson's unusual punctuation style.

Emily Dickinson's "The Snake"

A young woman in Amherst, Massachusetts published a poem on February 14, 1866. The front page of that day's issue of the Springfield Daily Republican included the first publication of a poem labeled "The Snake" (possibly a direct response to John Greenleaf Whittier's "Barefoot Boy"). It is one of only a handful of known poems which Emily Dickinson saw published in her lifetime.

A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him, — did you not?
His notice sudden is.

The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.

He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun, —
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.

Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.

Dickinson and the modern consciousness

Because only a few of her poems were published during her lifetime, Emily Dickinson was not a major figure in American literature in the 19th century. Her first book of poems was published four years after her death in 1890, though they were heavily edited. The public (and critics) were suddenly interested, partly because of the poet's reputation as a recluse and partly because of how she played with standard syntax and punctuation. New editions were put out in rapid succession.

In fact, this turn-of-the-century curiosity was not restricted merely to the United States. The January 27, 1905 issue of the Manchester Guardian noted:

The place of Emily Dickinson among poets is not yet definitely fixed, but the fact that a seventeenth edition of her Poems has appeared shows that in spite of her disregard of form her thoughts appeal to the modern consciousness... This quality may secure remembrance, for some of her work will pass into the common inheritance.

The Guardian disagreed with Dickinson's posthumous promoter Thomas Wentworth Higginson that her work was similar to that of William Blake ("beyond originality they have little in common"). In fact, the Guardian was right in noting the appeal to "modern" consciousness; Dickinson's unique style of poetry was a turning point for poetry and today she is considered among the first "modern" poets — in part due to her willingness to play with standard rules of the language. Still, the newspaper's hesitation in predicting her longevity did allow that some day she would be anthologized alongside Blake's "The Lamb," particularly singling out this poem (as it appeared at the time):

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

*Some of the information for this post comes from Emily Dickinson's Reception in the 1890s: A Documentary History (1989) by Willis J. Buckingham.

Dickinson: those who ne'er succeed

The anthology A Masque of Poets was published on September 10, 1878 by Roberts Brothers in Boston. Labeled as part of the "No Name Series," the collection put forth anonymous poems by "eminent authors." The publishers promised, "No name will help the novel, or the story, to success. Its success will depend solely on the writer's ability to catch and retain the reader's interest."

Though promising the identities of the writers would remain "an inviolable secret," some were soon revealed, including Celia Thaxter, George Henry Boker, Edmund Clarence Stedman, and others. Among the most interesting, perhaps, remained unidentified: the book included a poem by Emily Dickinson, one of only a few she saw published in her lifetime. Titled "Success," it was the last poem in the collection before the book concluded with a "novelette in verse"; it was also the last poem Dickinson published before her death. Her few previously published works had appeared at least a decade earlier.

Here is "Success" as it was published in 1878:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a Nectar
Requires the sorest need.
Not one of all the Purple Host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So plain, of Victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.

Dickinson: I'm nobody! Who are you?

Emily Dickinson was born in the family homestead in Amherst, Massachusetts on December 10, 1830. Though not as reclusive as some would suggest (including Mabel Loomis Todd, who later claimed the poet spent decades without stepping past the threshold), she would spend most of her life in the family home — now open as the Emily Dickinson Museum. She went to school outside the home, for example, and later attended Amherst Academy. Even so, she became known as a ghost-like figure in Amherst, one which was rarely seen. She once wrote, "Some keep the Sabbath going to church / I keep it staying at home."

Dickinson wrote her poetry in her home. However, her poems would not make her famous until after her death as only a few were published in her lifetime. Nevertheless, she was encouraged by Thomas Wentworth Higginson to keep writing and, though she asked that her letters be destroyed after her death, she said nothing about her poems.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

The Emily Dickinson Museum holds an annual birthday open house. I highly recommend a visit!

I changed words here and there

She was born Mabel Loomis in Cambridge, Massachusetts on November 10, 1856; after her marriage in 1879, she was better known as Mabel Loomis Todd. More recently, some have called her the woman who destroyed the family of Emily Dickinson.

William Austin Dickinson, the reclusive poet's older brother, entered into an affair with Todd while both were still married (she was nearly three decades younger). Mrs. Todd was very sexually open and, though her affair with Austin Dickinson was only one of many, it was the most passionate. After his death in 1895, she was given access to visit his body in private. In her journal, she wrote of how she had known and loved "every inch" of his body.

Todd never met Emily Dickinson, though they occasionally corresponded. Todd referred to the reclusive poet as "the myth." When Dickinson died at the age of 55 in 1886, she had left no instructions for what to do with her scores of unpublished poems. Her surviving sister Lavinia turned to Todd and Emily's supporter Thomas Wentworth Higginson. Todd commenced editing the poems by standardizing their syntax, punctuation, and structure. Family feud later ensued and Todd locked up her portion of Dickinson's manuscripts, where they remained unopened for half a century.

Higginson has since gotten the bulk of the blame for re-writing Dickinson's poetry. Such was not the case, however. Higginson was frustrated to work with Todd and disgusted by her heavy-handed editing. Todd herself admitted: "I changed words here and there in the two hundred [poems] to make them smoother — he changed a very few" (emphasis added). Higginson protested, "I find with dismay that the beautiful... has been left out." The worst offense Higginson was guilty of? He insisted each poem carry a title. Eventually, he stopped working with Todd altogether.

*Information from this post comes from Brenda Wineapple's White Heat: The Friendship of Emily Dickinson and Thomas Wentworth Higginson as well as Polly Longsworth's Austin and Mabel: The Amherst Affair & Love Letters of Austin Dickinson and Mabel Loomis Todd. Some additional information, including the image of Mrs. Todd above, is from the Emily Dickinson Museum (which I strongly recommend).

Dickinson: I like the school very much indeed

Emily Dickinson completed her final term at the Amherst Academy on August 10, 1847. She was 16 years old. As was the tradition, graduates presented public orations; Dickinson was one of them. A "choir of young girls and several youths" also performed; some speculate Dickinson was a member of that choir.

Dickinson presenting a public oration and singing before a crowd seems out of character for her. Soon, Dickinson will, infamously, become a recluse who seldom leaves the family home in Amherst, Massachusetts. Still a teenager, however, she will instead prepare for college; her first term at Mount Holyoke College began just over a month after her graduation from Amherst Academy.

Dickinson was enrolled at the Academy when she was nine. She studied Latin, Greek, geography, ancient history, botany, physiology, and English grammar. Dickinson seemed to enjoy her experience. At age 11, she wrote a letter to a friend: "I am in the class that you used to be in in Latin — besides Latin I study History and Botany I like the school very much indeed". She also began to show a precociousness and critical view of the world. In the same letter, she describes a fellow student giving an oral presentation: "the Subject was think twice before you speak," she wrote. The boy told the class that he knew a man who believed a woman was so beautiful she neared perfection. But, he warned, "remember that roses conceal thorns." Young Dickinson was not happy. "He is the sillyest creature that ever lived I think... I told him that I thought he had better think twice before he spoke."

She was, by most accounts, an impressive student. Her principal later wrote of her: "I remember her as a very bright but rather delicate and frail looking girl... an excellent scholar, of exemplary deportment, faithful in all school duties; but somewhat shy and nervous." His recollections were written after Dickinson's death and can be taken with a grain of salt.

From her poem today labeled "XXI":

Not in this world to see his face
Sounds long, until I read the place
Where this is said to be
But just the primer of life
Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,
Clasped yet to him and me.

And yet, my primer suits me so
I would not choose a book to know
Than that, be sweeter wise;
Might some one else so learned by,
And leave me just my A B C,
Himself could have the skies.

*Some of the information for this post comes from Emily Dickinson and the Art of Belief by Roger Lundin.

Death of Emily Dickinson

The end of Emily Dickinson's life was full of grief. In April 1882, a minister she befriended named Charles Wadsworth died and, six months later, her mother died. A little over a year later, her favorite nephew died too. In March 1884, her friend Otis Phillips Lord (a judge, whom some speculate may have been a romantic interest) died. Dickinson wrote, "The Dyings have been too deep for me, and before I could raise my Heart from one, another has come."

On May 15, 1886, Dickinson herself died of a form of kidney disease called Bright's disease. She was 55 years old. She requested that all her letters be burned; she left no specific instructions about her manuscript poems, which were found later. Few had ever been published.

Her funeral was held in the library at the family home in Amherst, Massachusetts, where her white coffin was decorated with vanilla-scented heliotrope, a Lady's Slipper orchid, and blue field violets. Thomas Wentworth Higginson, the editor from whom she sought advice on her writing, read the poem "No Coward Soul Is Mine" by Emily Brontë. He had previously met her only twice but would become her greatest booster posthumously. She was buried in the family plot at West Cemetery in Amherst (pictured). The greater controversy over her poems was yet to come.

Her poems were heavily edited then re-edited posthumously, before later being restored. Her poems are usually without titles and today are often referred to by a numbering system. This one was numbered XXXI. in a 1924 edition:

Death is a dialogue between
The spirit and the dust.
"Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir,
I have another trust."

Death doubts it, argues from the ground.
The Spirit turns away,
Just laying off, for evidence,
An overcoat of clay.

It seemed to me I should die too

Sophia Holland was 15 years old when she died on April 29, 1844. Her cousin, who was only slightly younger, had helped keep watch while Holland was on her deathbed. When she finally died, this cousin, whose name was Emily Dickinson, was devastated. Two years later, she wrote: "it seemed to me I should die too if I could not be permitted to watch over her or even look at her face."

Young Emily was depressed enough that her family sent her to Boston to recover before returning to Amherst Academy. "I told no one the cause of my grief," she wrote, "though it was gnawing at my very heart strings. I was not well & I went to Boston & stayed a month & my health improved so that my spirits were better."

The death which hit so close to home has been credited (by some) as one of the sources for Dickinson's ongoing fascination with morbid topics. Others have suggested that the early death of such a close friend turned her away from formal religion (though her poetry is riddled with a fair mix of both religious and morbid themes). "She was too lovely for earth," Dickinson had written, "& she was transplanted from earth to heaven." The following poem is not necessarily written for Sophia Holland (this is a 1901 version, labeled XXII):

The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth, —
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.

*The above portrait of Dickinson dates to about 1846 or 1847. For a time, it was the only authenticated photo of the reclusive poet. One other exists, though its authenticity is disputed.