Emily Dickinson's Poetry: A RevaluationAuthor(s): Eunice GlennSource: The Sewanee Review, Vol. 51, No. 4 (Oct. - Dec., 1943), pp. 574-588Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/27537457Accessed: 04/10/2010 03:26

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available athttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unlessyou have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and youmay use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use.

Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained athttp://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=jhup.

Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printedpage of such transmission.

JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.

The Johns Hopkins University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to TheSewanee Review.

http://www.jstor.org

by Eunice Glenn

EMILY DICKINSON'S POETRY:

A REVALUATION

THE circumstances in Emily Dickinson's life are perfect for

the romanticist: a woman of conservative Puritan back

ground, who is unusually sensitive, shrinks from contacts with the

world, has a few adventures that result in unhappy and dis

appointing experiences with the opposite sex, and, because of her

somewhat morbid and melancholy temperament, finds relief

for her tortured spirit in writing verse. Such is the usual, over

simplified account of her?an account that has done much to

damage her reputation as a poet. This is not to imply, of course,

that to be classified as a romantic poet is necessarily damaging, or to deny that biographical data have thrown a great deal of

light on the genesis of Emily Dickinson's poetry. But an over

whelming tendency to arrive at conclusions on the basis of bio

graphical data alone is not only unjust to her, but is very nearly fatal to her poetry.

Just as fatal is romantic criticism, which is about the only kind

that has been given to her work. Those who admire Emily Dickin

son's poetry are often blinded by an enthusiasm which makes ob

jective criticism impossible. Consuming interest in the mystery and

glamor of her life is associated with ecstasy over her poetry. She is idealized by sentiment: there is a halo about her. Instead

of finding the real Emily Dickinson in her poetry, many try to

discover her in speculations! about her life. And the unfortunate

result is that there has been very little close study of the poetry

itself.

Such romantic ideas about the poet and her work account for

much of the existing prejudice against her. The prejudiced, nat

POETRY OF EMILY DICKINSON_575

urally, do not take the trouble really to read her poems; con

sequently, they are usually willing to dismiss this "Puritan

maiden" and her "bulletins from Immortality" with a patronizing

shrug of the shoulder and to consign her to those who they think

comprise her true audience?female readers who find in her verses

a reflection of themselves and their frustrated love. It is much

easier to accept romantic criticism than it is to examine the

poems firsthand. Emily Dickinson has been put in her place, the wrong place, and kept there.

It may not be important to "place" her or to attempt to

classify her at all. But it is important that her poetry should be

given an intelligent and thorough criticism that is free from

prejudice, goes beyond surface generalizations, and possesses some esthetic insight. A few critics of our day have recognized her poetry for its special qualities and have suggested some defi

nition of it. They have discovered that in it there is a striking

similarity to the metaphysical poetry of the seventeenth century, to some of the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, her English

contemporary, and to some English and American poetry of the

twentieth century. Allen T?te, in the first essay1 ever to dis

tinguish Emily Dickinson from her contemporaries, has estab

lished an entirely new point of view concerning her. In his opin ion The Chariot is one of the most perfect poems in the English

language. R. P. Blackmur followed with Emily Dickinson: Notes

on Prejudice and Fact,2 which is detailed, first-hand criticism,

and, like Mr. Tate's, invites more of its kind. These two essays and Yvor Winter's fine analyses in Maule's Curse are the extent

of the unprejudiced criticism of Emily Dickinson's work up to

this time.

Besides a lack of objective criticism, another thing that has

proved to be very damaging to her poetry is the habit of quoting

fragments out of their context. This kind of heresy is, of course,

unfair to most poems, but especially so to hers because of their

Reactionary Essays on Poetry and Ideas, New York and London: Charles

Scribner's Sons, 1936. 2The expense of Greatness, (Arrow Editions), 1941.

576 by EUNICE GLENN

special quality. The lover of a pious Emily Dickinson can easily extract from her poetry "beautiful" lines that will furnish him

with justification. The worshipper of a frustrated Miss Dickinson

can likewise find enough lines to supply his needs. But it is

extremely doubtful that any one of her complete poems (except for four or five in which she has inconsistently lapsed into senti

mentality) will after a close study give such results. A turn or

a twist, whether by the manipulation of tone or other device,

usually introduces a complexity of experience not limited to a

simple attitude.

But the poems speak for themselves. What is the use of merely

saying that Miss Dickinson possesses a vigor of mind that re

sists romantic treatment; that superb control of tone is one of

her methods; that she makes free use of bold metaphor and

paradox; that her poetry is characterized by a use of disparate materials and an exciting use of language? Or what is to be gained

by picking out of her poems some of the more audacious meta

phorical phrases like "quartz contentment" and "hour of lead," or some of her paradoxical phrases, such as

"pale sustenance"

or "reticent volcano"? They would be meaningless without the

full context; the work of any artist who uses language strictly is

not to be judged by its parts. For purposes of convenience in

the analysis of a poem such features as metaphor, paradox, and

disparate materials must be separated; but they cannot be sepa

rated from the poems.

The following analyses of a few of Miss Dickinson's poems

do not pretend to be exhaustive. An essay of this length can

not exhaust the varied ramifications often inherent in every line

if not every carefully chosen word of her finer work; but it does

attempt to show what it is that makes them successful. It is per

haps best to select out of all of the poems, which vary so much

in their complexity, a few of the simpler ones, and then proceed to the more difficult.

This poem is typical of those in which the elements are more

easily separable:

POETRY OF EMILY DICKINSON_577

EMANCIPATION

No rack can torture me.

My soul's at liberty. Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one

You cannot prick with saw, Nor rend with scimitar. Two bodies therefore be; Bind one, and one will flee.

The eagle of his nest No easier divest And gain the sky Than mayest thou,

Except thyself may be Thine enemy: Captivity is consciousness, So's liberty.

The theme of this poem is conventional and no unexpected attitude toward the theme is taken; therefore, the interest which

it has for the reader must be found elsewhere. What is there in

the treatment that makes the poem successful in spite of its

conventional theme and usual attitude? If the metaphor is looked

at closely, the answer will probably be found there; for the poem

is worked out largely by metaphor. Richard Lovelace's To Althea from Prison is on precisely the

same theme, although it is a very different kind of poem. It is

flowing and rhythmical and carefully rhymed. Emily Dickinson's

poem is tight, compressed, and careless in rhyme. But, from

the viewpoint of structure, it is in the metaphor that the most

striking difference is to be found. Lovelace, for the most part, uses easy and romantic comparisons. "Love with unconfined

wings hovers within [his] Gates." He lies "tangled in her haire."

The birds, he says "know no such Liberty." Nor do the

"Fishes that tipple in the Deepe," "Inlarged Winds that curie the

Flood," or "Angels alone that soar above" know such liberty.

Compare these with such sharp and forceful images as the

578 by EUNICE GLENN

"rack," "mortal bone" that "knits," "prick with saw" and "rend

with scimitar." The "rack" which "tortures" is used in a subtle

way to suggest the persecution of early Christian martyrs. "Stone

walls do not a prison make,/Nor iron bars a cage." Lovelace's

"stone walls" and "iron bars" are precise, too; but they do not

come with the surprise of the "rack" and the "scimitar." The

"eagle," "nest," and "sky" in Emily Dickinson's poem are her

only ordinary figures. Other details in Emancipation contribute to its success. The

paradox implied in "two bodies" gives a shock since, apparently, the meaning is that one of the bodies is the soul, tying in with

"There knits a bolder one" in the first stanza. The use of en

jambment from the beginning of the third stanza to the end of

the second line in the fourth stanza gives an impression of fluidity and speed. Finally, the paradox in the last two lines?a very common one?is expressed in a very uncommon way. "Captivity

is consciousness,/So's liberty" is typical of Emily Dickinson's

succinct, epigrammatic statements.

Now that we have seen the way in which shocking metaphor is used largely to make a poem, let us turn to one whose effect

is achieved mainly by control of tone (although it cannot be

said too often that no one factor can be depended on to make

the poem) :

Title divine is mine The Wife without The Sign. Acute degree Conferred on me?

Empress of Calvary. Royal all but the Crown?

Betrothed, without the swoon God gives us women

When two hold Garnet to garnet, Gold to gold? Born?Bridalled? Shrouded?

POETRY OF EMILY DICKINSON_579

In a day Tri-Victory?

"My Husband" Women say

Stroking the melody. Is this the way?

This poem is redeemed from being ordinary by the use of a

few technical devices, chiefly paradox and the skillful control

of tone. These are so merged that they cannot be easily sepa

rated, but must be for purposes of analysis. The poem begins on a note of joyful victory. This note is

continued into the second line with the words "The Wife;" but

in "without the Sign" there is a quick sinking into a mood of

dejection. Taken as a whole,

Title divine is mine The Wife without The Sign

carries a weight of mixed joy and despair and sets the tone for

the entire poem.

The next two lines,

Acute degree Conferred on me

are also a skillful blending of joy and despair. "Acute degree" is a

paradox, "degree" suggesting honor or award and "acute"

suggesting pain that is piercingly disagreeable. "Empress of

Calvary" names the degree or title conferred and, as a metaphor,

amplifies the preceding one. "Empress of Calvary" is, of course, an even more powerful paradox, uniting the symbols of sovereign

ty and crucifixion; it also ties in with "Title Divine." A double

ness of tone is interwoven with the two paradoxes.

"Royal all but the/Crown" brings in a high tide of triumph. "All but" makes the "Crown" seem insignificant; but, standing alone in the line as it does, "crown" assumes some importance; and so the effect is mixed, not a feeling of pure triumph.

580 by EUNICE GLENN

"Without the swoon" enriches the effect, since "swoon" in

troduces a faint feeling of displeasure to complicate the pleasure associated with a betrothal. "Garnet to garnet" and "Gold to

gold" are brilliantly placed in conjunction, garnet being a hard, brittle and glasslike mineral of low brilliance and gold the most

precious metal. The ceremony and the consummation of mar

riage are, of course, implied.

The lines,

Born?Bridalled? Shrouded In a day

Tri-Victory

may be said to synthesize the whole poem, developing its general

paradox and sustaining the complexity of tone; "Shrouded" and

"Victory" qualify with irony.

"Stroking the melody" is an exceedingly daring and imaginative

figure. "Is this the way?" may seem to be ambiguous. Cleanth

Brooks, admitting that the line is difficult, offers a possible

meaning, saying that if "Is this the way?" refers to the "way" women "stroke the melody" or "pronounce the words," then,

"the line introduces a note of ironic gayety, a bit of mockery, and gives a stronger conclusion than if interpreted otherwise."

In this sense the line confirms the pathos that has been introduced

earlier in the poem.

The feeling and thought that the poem, as a whole, engenders cannot be said in any way to be circumscribed within the limits of

the subject. The implications are broad and the interpretation is applicable to many other situations than the one described.

Those familiar with John Donne's "A Valediction Forbidding

Mourning" are almost certain to be reminded of it by this poem of Emily Dickinson's:

He put the belt around my life? I heard the buckle snap,

And turned away, imperial, My lifetime folding up Deliberate, as a duke would do

POETRY OF EMILY DICKINSON_581

A kingdom's title-deed,? Henceforth a dedicated sort, A member of the cloud.

Yet not too far to come at call, And do the little toils That make the circuit of the rest, And deal occasional smiles To lives that stoop to notice mine And kindly ask it in,?

Whose invitation, knew you not For whom I must decline?

The "belt" is as precise

a figure as Donne's "compass," al

though it is more sensuous and is not pursued so far; the ordinary associations with such everyday objects enhance their effective

ness when used in a fresh way. The belt is used in this poem, as the compass is in Donne's, to describe the relationship be

tween two lovers. In saying "He put the belt around my life"

the poet at once establishes an attitude which is not simple: added

to the normally unpleasant feeling of being completely subjected to the will of another is an ecstatic delight in the experience.

The complexity of tone continues throughout the poem. The

dramatic quality is high. Each successive step, from putting on the belt and snapping it and turning "away, imperial, . . .

as a duke would do" to the "decline" of the "invitation" of

another (in the last line) is built up carefully. The conflict is

resolved at the end, when it is made clear that no one else will

be admitted into the circle.

The figure of the duke in the first stanza is rich in associations.

After the buckle is snapped, he turns away, "imperial" (sug

gesting high command), her "lifetime folding up deliberate as

a duke would do/A kingdom's title-deed" (an exact comparison,

amplifying the principal figure). "Henceforth a dedicated sort,/

A member of the cloud" makes the state of the protagonist clear. There is paradox in it, since "dedicated" means being

given up to something, and "cloud," whatever exactly is meant

by it, has some suggestion of the opposite. "Cloud" may mean

582 by EUNICE GLENN

high heaven or high authority; it may refer to a cloud of wit

nesses; regardless of which meaning the poet may have intended,

however, the suggestion is the same.

In the last stanza the line, "To lives that notice mine," con

notes a great deal about the humility and subjection of her state;

but this is qualified by the "little toils," "occasional smiles," and,

especially, by the decline of any other invitation. Paradox and

complexity of tone, which characterize the poem, are both evident

here.

The following is one of Emily Dickinson's finest poems :

IN VAIN

I cannot live with you, It would be life,

And life is over there Behind the shelf

The sexton keeps the key to, Putting up Our life, his porcelain, Like a cup

Discarded of the housewife, Quaint or broken; A newer S?vres 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.

POETRY OF EMILY DICKINSON 583

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 fame.

And were you saved, And I condemned to be

Where you were not, That self were hell to me.

So we must keep apart, You there, I here,

With just the door ajar That oceans are, And prayer, And that pale sustenance, Despair!

This poem, as a whole, bears an interesting comparison to Andrew

Marvell's "The Definition of Love." That is not to say that a

similarity of theme is sufficient basis for comparing one poem to another (far from it). But the respective methods of the

two poets in handling the same theme, especially in attitude,

suggest a comparison, as much for differences as for likenesses.

In both, love resolves itself into a matter for despair because of

the impossibility of fulfillment. There is however, a slight dif

ference in the function of despair in the two poems. In Mar

vell's poem love springs out of despair: only "magnanimous

despair" could produce "so divine a thing." In Emily Dickinson's

poem love is consigned to despair, a "pale sustenance." The

similarity lies rather in the unconventionally of attitude toward

despair and love.

584 by EUNICE GLENN

A more definite likeness is to be found in the metaphorical treatment of the idea of impossibility. With the figure of the

two parallel lines Marvell shows how impossible it is for the two

lovers ever to meet. Miss Dickinson achieves the same effect by the use of several bold figures. The first two lines of her poem,

which are paradoxical (inasmuch as they imply that the protag onist is already dead, though alive), glide gracefully into the

metaphor of the sexton (God) who keeps the key to "Our life, his

porcelain,/like a cup." Implications concerning the Puritan

view of life and sensual love are extremely ironical. The realistic

attitude toward love is well sustained in the eight stanzas that

follow. A dominant note of impossibility, like Marvell's, is

sounded in the line, "I could not die with you." The three lines

that follow convey a double meaning: first, that her lover is so

fond of her that he could not be the one to close her eyes forever

upon the world; second, that such an act would be a disfavor, since to her the world is too desirable a place to leave.

The next stanza is especially arresting: Love is so intense that

it could not bear to see its object endure the coldness of death

without being able to share it. The metaphor?"my right of

frost,/Death's privilege"?accomplishes this effect; loving life,

she does not really desire the "frost" of death, but paradoxically, she does desire it only for the sake of sharing something with her

lover.

"Your face would put out Jesus' "

comes with a particular shock. The figure is extended into the next three stanzas, where,

paradoxically, she says that if he is lost and she saved, then

she, too, will be lost; that if he is saved and she lost, then she

will not be lost in any sense except separation. A "sordid ex

cellence," as applied to Paradise, is another striking paradox. Whereas Marvell concludes with the faintly comforting thought

that the love which "Fate so enviously debars" is the "conjunc tion of the mind," Emily Dickinson's poem ends on a note of

hopelessness. "That pale sustenance,/Despair" (drawing one's

very being from despair) is in its impact as forceful a line of

poetry as can be found anywhere.

POETRY OF EMILY DICKINSON 585

Thus, like Marvell's poem, In Vain is extremely complex in

tone. There is emphasis on sensuality and also regard for

discipline, which comes out in the references to orthodox religious

conceptions, such as Heaven, prayer, Jesus, judgment, etc. But

the sensibility of the poet and her reaction to the situation, as

the poem shows, cannot be contained in the measuring cup of

discipline. But the poem of Emily Dickinson's which most effectively

demonstrates the kind of technique that we have been consider

ing is this:

THE CHARIOT

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. ,

We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done;

We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads

Were toward eternity.

The central theme is the interpretation of mortal experience

from the standpoint of immortality. A theme stemming from

that is the defining of eternity as timelessness. The poet uses

these abstractions?mortality, immortality, and eternity?in terms

10

586 by EUNICE GLENN

of images. How successfully, then, do these images fulfill their

intention, which is to unite in filling in the frame of the poem? In the first two lines Death, personified as a carriage driver,

stops for one who could not stop for him. The word "kindly" is particularly meaningful, for it instantly characterizes Death.

This comes with surprise, too, since death is more often considered

grim and terrible. The third and fourth lines explain the dramatic

situation. Death has in the carriage another passenger, Im

mortality. Thus, in four compact lines the poet has not only introduced the principal characters metaphorically, but she has

also characterized them in part; in addition, she has set the stage for the drama and started the drama moving. It may be noted, in passing, that the phrase, "And Immortality," standing alone,

helps to emphasize the importance of the presence of the second

passenger.

In the first line of the second stanza, "slowly drove" and

"knew no haste" serve to amplify the idea of the kindliness of the

driver, as well as the intimacy which has already been suggested

by "held just ourselves." In the fourth line, "For his civility" further characterizes the polite, kindly driver. The second, third

and fourth lines tie in perfectly with the first two lines of the

poem: she who has not been able to stop for Death is now so com

pletely captivated by his personality that she has put away every

thing that had occupied her before his coming. The third stanza contains a series of heterogeneous materials:

children, gazing grain, setting sun. But under the poet's skill

ful treatment these materials, seemingly foreign to one another,

are fused into a unit and reconciled. Hjow? Not, obviously, by

simply setting them side by side, but by making them all parts

of a single order of perception. They are all perceived as ele

ments in an experience from which the onlooker has withdrawn.

In its larger meaning this experience is Nature, over which, with

the aid of death, the individual triumphs. "Gazing grain," shift

ing "gazing" from the dead woman who is passing to a common

feature of Nature at ' which she is astonished, gives the grain

something of the fixity of death itself, although the grain is alive.

POETRY OF EMILY DICKINSON 587

This paradox is highly significant in the context of the poem:

"grain" symbolizes life, mortality; "gazing" suggests death, im

mortality. "Setting sun" is no less powerful in its suggestion of

the passage of time; and "the school where children played,/ Their lessons scarcely done" makes a subtle preparation for it.

In the next stanza the house, appearing as a "swelling of the

ground, the roof "scarcely visible" and the cornice, "but a

mound," suggest the grave, a sinking out of sight. "Paused"

calls to mind the attitude of the living toward the lowering of a

coffin into the ground, as well as , other associations with the

occurrence of death.

"Centuries" in the last stanza refers, of course, to eternity.

"Each feels shorter than the day" ties in with "setting sun" in the

third stanza and suggests at the same time the timelessness of

eternity. Indeed, an effective contrast between the time of

mortality and the timelessness of eternity is made in the entire

stanza.

"Horses' heads" is a concrete extension of the figure of the

carriage, which is maintained throughout the poem. The car

riage is headed toward eternity, where Death is taking the pas

senger. The attitude of withdrawl, or seeing with perspective, could not have been more effectively accomplished than it has

been by the use of the slowly-moving carriage. Remoteness is

fused with nearness, for the objects that are observed during the

journey are made to appear close by. At the same time, a con

stant moving forward, with only one pause, carries weighty

implications, concerning time, death, eternity. The person in the

carriage is viewing things that are near with the perspective of

distance, given by the presence of Immortality. The poem could hardly be said to convey an idea, as such,

or a series of ideas; instead, it presents a situation in terms of

human experience. The conflict betwen mortality and immortality is worked out through the agency of metaphor and tone. The

resolution of the conflict lies in the implications concerning the

meaning of eternity: not an endless stretch of time, but some

thing fixed and timeless, which interprets and gives meaning to

588 by EUNICE GLENN

mortal experience. Two seemingly contradictory concepts, mor

tality and immortality, are reconciled, because several seemingly

contradictory elements which .symoblize them are brought into re

conciliation.

The interaction of elements within a poem to produce an effect

of reconciliation in the poem as a whole, which we have observed

in these analyses, is the outstanding characteristic of "Meta

physical" poetry. This poetry Cleanth Brooks defines8 as that

in which "the opposition of the impulses which are united is ex

treme" or, again, that "in which the poet attempts the reconcilia

tion of qualities which are opposite or discordant in the extreme."

I have no intention of forcing this classification upon the poetry of Emily Dickinson. Indeed, I have no intention of forcing any

classification upon her; I have tried to focus more upon the

mechanics of her poetry. It seems fairly clear however, from

the examination of a few of her typical poems that we have

made that she is free from the limitations of the romantic poet,

which she is generally mistaken to be. She does not employ

metaphor only for illustration or decoration of some "truth," as the romantic poet usually does. She does not merely introduce

an element of paradox, as the romantic poet tends to do; rather

she succeeds in bringing it to the surface and in reconciling seem

ingly contradictory concepts. She does not use disparate materials

sparingly and put them down in juxtaposition without blending

them, as the romantic poet is often inclined to do. And her

liberty in the use of words would hardly be sanctioned by the

typically romantic poet, for fear of being "unpoetic" and not

"great" and "beautiful."

The kind of unity, or reconciliation that we have been observ

ing at work in these poems is chiefly responsible for their success.

Proof of this is found in the fact that the few poems of Emily

Dickinson's that are not successful show no evidence of the

quality; and some others that are only partially successful show

less of it. In this sense we are justified in referring to Emily

Dickinson as a metaphysical poet.

^Modern Poetry and the Tradition, Chapel Hill: The University of North

Carolina Press, 1939.