Emily Dickinson Museum Poetry Discussion Group 20November2015

Emily Dickinson Museum Poetry Discussion Group

Facilitated by Cindy Dickinson (No Relation)

November 20, 2015

"Till every spice is tasted": Spices in Emily Dickinson's Work and World

Cindy: First of all, there is a difference between an herb and a spice. The herb is from the leaf of the plant, spices come from some other part of the plant. So, we will be focusing on spices, but there is an herb will make an appearance, later on.

            I knew you would be eager to know the history of spices [laughter], so, I have studied it, and I have several books that I did some research in, but in the end McCormack came through for me, with a thrilling, brief history of spices. Any company that bothers to look up the etymology of words is OK with me.

“Vast fortunes made and squandered, powerful rulers seduced, ailments cured, and nations discovered…all in the name of spice. Spices have always cast a spell on our imaginations.” Doesn’t it make you want to run to Stop and Shop? [laughter].

“Spices have been the catalysts of some of the greatest adventures in human history, like Christopher Columbus' voyage. Still today, spices empower us as explorers, even if we never journey beyond the kitchen counter. They energize our daily adventures in food and remind us of journeys to exotic places and favorite meals with loved ones.”

 I think that what is in here, is much of what we’re going to find in Emily Dickinson’s poetry when spices appear, because spices really have been around for a very, very, very, long time, and were part of Emily Dickinson’s daily experience. As we know, she wrote about her daily experience, even though I joked about it, that it wasn’t always super-happy, but, she had the spice of life. There are some New England connections with spices. I was interested to try to understand whether she would have had trouble getting spices, or if they were rare or expensive, but by this point they really werern’t. … Now, you did have to grind your own spices. Up until 1837, then the Slade Brothers in Rhode Island thought “Oh, Dad has a mill. We could grind spices, and sell them as powder.” They were very popular. So, Dickinson could have purchased powdered spices. I don’t know if she ground her own; I was sort of interested.
            So, we know of two of the three recipes surviving in Emily Dickinson’s handwriting she uses spices, so in your handout you can look at those two recipes. The gingerbread was the one that was collected to letter 369, that’s what you had the opportunity to sample today. The letter itself is not about gingerbread, but the mention of “I’m pleased the gingerbread triumphed” occurs at the end of the letter. It’s a very basic recipe. She was an innovative poet, she was not an innovative cook, so these are very standard recipes of the time. It doesn’t mean they weren’t good, but she was not experimenting in the kitchen .
            About the same time, as this letter in 1871 – there’s a page in Polly Longsworth’s book, The World of Emily Dickinson, from the Cutler account book. And interestingly in it the Dickinsons purchase not one, but two units of ginger snaps, about 1873. It just made me wonder, was the gingerbread really triumphing in the Dickinson home. [laughter]. But there you see ginger.
            If you turn to the next page, we have at least one person in this room who is very familiar with this recipe; this is the Black Cake. And, in this case she must have grated her own nutmegs, because she’s specifying “two nutmegs.” Then, she’s measuring the others, the cloves and the mace and the cinnamon.

Marcy: It the Citroen a liquor?

Linda: It’s a zest, not candied, just dried. All these fruits are dried, but not candied, which is what makes the cake different from the traditional fruit cake, and it’s hard to find.

Cindy: And from my research, this was a cake that was not at all uncommon for a wedding. But, the letter that accompanies the recipe is typical Emily. “"Your sweet beneficence of Bulbs I return as Flowers, with a bit of the swarthy Cake baked only in Domingo...."
           

We’re going to go to the Samuel Bowles letter in just a moment. This is on page five. Just a little bit about the word spice itself, because we know Emily knew her history of words. Spice is from the Latin word species, which means sort or kind. By the late Latin it also meant wares, so it seems to have acquired that connotation of a commodity. So now we have the fun of looking for spice in Emily’s poems, if I counted correctly –using the Lexicon, not reading all the poems [laughter] – she used a version of the word spice, spice, spices, spicy, or spiceless, 25 times. Using the Lexicon I looked for forty popular spices or herbs according to some. She mentions only one spice by name, and she mentions a few herbs. So it leads to the question of what spices might have meant as a unit. I was also trying to understand how maybe cinnamon was more popular, and ginger. It was not exhaustive research but it does seem they’re always just called “the spices.” Spices did have value, they were even listed sometimes in someone’s will, or they’re listed in advertisements for what’s sold at a particular store, but they don’t get called out individually. So, what do you think of – now it’s your turn – when you hear the word “spice?”

[various participants’] Pungent. Lively. Exotic. Intensification of sensory experience. A questioner of authority. Cover up the real taste. Missing, because they’re always missing when I’m looking for them in the cupboard [laughter]. Shelf life. Immediate burst. Exotic as in the Spice Islands. Sexy.

Cindy: Good, I’m hoping you can explain one of our poems to us. [laughter]

[Other participants] A bit racey. Trade and trade routes. Are the Spice Girls still around? [laughter].

Cindy: Yes, which is of course very much embedded in its history, and I think Emily was aware of all of these meanings and I think that they are in the poems that we’re going to read. I think we’ll find that there’s a little thread of them appearing in some of her nature poems, about flowers, where spice and fragrance are intertwined. There are some economic hints about the exotic parts of spices, and it also comes up in relation to death and masking of smells, too, which we’ll see So, let us turn to the poems Let’s go to Fr272. The letter number is 229.

Would you like summer? Taste of ours.

Spices? Buy here!

Ill! We have berries, for the parching!

Weary! Furloughs of down!

Perplexed! Estates of violet trouble ne'er looked on!

Captive! We bring reprieve of roses!

Fainting! Flasks of air!

Even for Death, a fairy medicine.

But, which is it, sir?

                              -J691/Fr272/M702

[ To hear this poem read aloud, go to  https://youtu.be/qe8VB8dYSJE ]

So, this is a poem that was sent with a letter to Samuel Bowles.

Dear friend.

You remember the little "Meeting" - we held for you - last spring? We met again - Saturday - 'Twas May - when we "adjourned" - but then Adjourns - are all - The meetings wore alike - Mr Bowles - The Topic - did not tire us - so we chose no new - We voted to remember you - so long as both should live - including Immortality. To count you as ourselves - except sometimes more tenderly - as now - when you are ill - and we - the haler of the two - and so I bring the Bond - we sign so many times - for you to read, when Chaos comes - or Treason - or Decay - still witnessing for Morning.
We hope - it is a tri-Hope - composed of Vinnie's - Sue's - and mine - that you took no more pain - riding in the sleigh.
We hope our joy to see you - gave of it's own degree - to you - We pray for your new health - the prayer that goes not down - when they shut the church - We offer you our cups - stintless - as to the Bee - the Lily, her new Liquors -

Would you like Summer? Taste of our's -
Spices? Buy - here!
Ill! We have Berries, for the parching!
Weary! Furloughs of Down!
Perplexed! Estates of Violet - Trouble ne'er looked on!
Captive! We bring Reprieve of Roses!
Fainting! Flasks of Air!
Even for Death - A Fairy medicine -
But, which is it - Sir?

[ To hear this poem read aloud, go to https://youtu.be/qe8VB8dYSJE  ]

Cindy. Typical Emily, to one of her good friends, a very prominent person. I think probably most people here know about Samuel Bowles. What do you think of this poem? Suppose you had gotten this poem and were not perhaps feeling well, how would this poem have made you feel”

Greg: Very uplifting.

Cindy: Yes. It was in her period of using many exclamation points. [laughter] What is the scene she’s depicting here, the setting?

Greg: A bazaar.

Cindy: Yes, a bazaar, and here again is where the economic aspect of spices comes in – selling things that she thinks may make him feel better.

Marcey: A carnival barker tonne.

Chaz: I like the “Which is it, sir?” It’s the salesman saying “OK, one of these is the right one, which one?”

Lois: Dickinson the pitch girl. [laughter]

Greg: It being to Bowles, I can’t help but wonder if she isn’t kind of tweaking him there, for not responding enough, as in the poem, If it had no pencil, would it try mine? She’s trying to get a response of him, maybe? And it’s a great, great, cornucopia of abundance, just pouring forth.

Jay: I like the clever and rather lovely way she talks about death, which is difficult to talk about when you’re talking to someone who may well be at death’s door. She talks about a fairy medicine.

Lucy: The fairy aspect of it I like a lot, because I hear this barker tone. At a carnival, it’s not always honest, but here there are berries and furloughs of down and flasks of air. It seems more pure and more holistic, and the fairy medicine being magical.

Susan: There’s also a little bit of bragging in this poem. She’s got something for all sorts of afflictions, including fairy medicine, and we may not know what that is, but we can guess that it was probably something very exotic, something not ordinary people would have in their cornucopia…but the afflictions that Bowles is suffering from are both physical and emotional. He’s weary, he’s perplexed; I don’t know what captive means, but I guess he’s stuck in bed. It seems that he was rather a restless sort, and that was not a happy place to be. When I read it I wonder whether a recipient who is lying in bed, with sciatica or whatever it was that he had, would it make you feel better, reading this poem, or would it make you want to take a nap?  [laughter] Too many exclamation points ….

Linda: Well, there’s something for everything.

Melinda: It seems like she’s labeling various problems, asking him to self-diagnose, almost, a challenge to recover.

Jenny: There’s also some feedback in the letter.. “and so I bring the Bond - we sign so many times - for you to read, when Chaos comes.” It’s almost as if they’ve made a bond that if one or the other of them gets sick they’re not going to show sympathy and show all this hope and promise to get better.

Teresa: I wonder if the Fairy Medicine is hope.

Celia: I wondered if the last two lines go together and if it’s an Emilyish little twist of more ironic and less cheerful .. “Even for Death - A Fairy medicine,” but which one would that be? It takes it out of the realm of fairies and down pillows.

Harrison: The ball’s back in his court.

Celia: Also, she wrote this in February, and there’s all this about summer.. the violets, unless these are things that were dried and preserved in some way.

Greg: I just point out that the paragraph beginning with “we hope” are in meter. It’s three beats, three beats, four and three, and the next to last paragraph almost is.

Cindy: Yes, and there’s a whole book by – someone – who felt that a lot of the letters were actually poems. The meter pervades her life.

Victoria: To me it seems that, especially after hearing the letter, that there’s a lot of love here in  what she’s writing. And when she says “We voted to remember you - so long as both should live.” Isn’t that out of the marriage vow? I think there’s an underlying very strong affection here for the man, and she wanted to cheer him up and “I care so much about you.” Lots of affection.

Cindy: And knowing that it’s February, and thinking that Summer is – in New England – what we need to look forward to, these are what I think of about Summer.

Lucy: It’s very feminine. The words that she’s using, Fairy and Down are very soft, and Roses, and not a flask that a man would have but Flasks of Air! There’s very much a tri-hope of femininity here.

Linda: What was the difference in their ages?

Cindy: They’re about the same age. I’m thinking too about the timing, because the Civil War is just about to start, and he was writing a lot. The Republican was very much on the side of Lincoln. Mentally, he must have been quite burdened by the political state at the time So, this little vision of Summer was probably quite expected. Still, it is curious that she asks him to choose, I mean, why not give him the whole market? Which is how she’s ending with it, “OK, pick something.” And so that idea, “We want an answer. Write it back.”

Greg: Maybe what “Which is it?” applies to is his state, weary or perplexed or captive or fainting.

Cindy: Yes. That could be it. Now you think about it and you decide.

Greg: Yes. “What’s the problem?”

Harrison: I think she’s trying to cheer him up, but she, being Emily Dickinson, is still talking about death. [laughter]

Edie: I was struck by the abrupt change in mood in the letter. Some of it is what straightforward - what you would write to someone who is not feeling well. And then she suddenly switches the emotional energy. I see her sitting at that little desk writing and the idea comes and she goes whizzing off.

Cindy: It would have been nice to have been there when Bowles opened this. [laughter] Well, to return us to our theme, if we look at the word spices., part of that carnival air of “would you like to buy my array of spices,” but the rest of the poem goes on to talk more about nature. It seems to me that this would be a nice segue to some of the use of spice in some of the other poems, because spice is in some ways synonymous with the rose or with some other fragrance. So, let’s turn to 661. I didn’t want to give you too many poems, so I left some out. I’d just like to read you one those. This is number 370, which is the one where the title of this program comes from. It’s Johnson number 580. Franklin is 370,  This is a poem about a hummingbird. It’s not the famous one. [Cindy reads]

Within my Garden. rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel -
Whose spokes a dizzy music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill

He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose -
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted -
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres -
And I rejoin my Dog,

And He and I, perplex us
If positive, 'twere we -
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity -

But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye -
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!

                         -J500/Fr370/M197

[  To hear this poem read aloud, go to  https://youtu.be/f4os1mHl_s8  ]

So, with that in mind, and seeing the hummingbird tasting all the spice, let’s read again 661.

Judith reads:

Some such Butterfly be seen
On Brazilian Pampas —
Just at noon — no later — Sweet —
Then — the License closes —              

Some such Spice — express and pass —
Subject to Your Plucking —
As the Stars — You knew last Night —
Foreigners — This Morning -
                                 - J541/Fr661/M314

[ To hear this poem read aloud, go to https://youtu.be/6fGbKI2oOuw  ]
 [ From Emily Dickinson's dictionary: License. Excess of liberty; exorbitant freedom; freedom abused, or used in contempt of law, or decorum. License they mean, when they cry liberty. – Milton. ]

Cindy: What’s this poem about?

Jane: Transient. Fleeting is what comes to mind. All of these pleasant experiences don’t’ last.

Nancy: She’s referring to Herbs rather than spices, as an herb, when picked, ages and loses its zest.

Cindy: Interestingly, there are a number of variants in this poem, and for spice, she considered using rose.

Greg: Is there a variant for licence?

Cindy: Yes! There are two. And they are very different from each other and from license. The variants for license in line four are vision, and pageant.

Greg: Well that doesn’t help.

Cindy: No! [laughter]

Elaine: But then, in a way, they’re all just kind of  …. Spectacle.

Marcy: License as in giving authority? It comes quickly there and then it leaves.

Harrison: There’s the subject of license with poetry, too. As in I would not paint a Picture.”

Nor would I be a Poet-

It’s finer-own the Ear-

Enamored-impotent-content-

The License to revere-

Edie: That first line is so abrupt. When I first read it I thought, “she left something out.” The reference is “Some such Butterfly be seen.” You have to have talked about it before. Very, very abrupt.

Harrison: It has no antecedent.

Greg: I think that’s exactly right. She’s saying, “You know what butterfly we mean,” assuming that we already have this connection, and many people think that’s one of the ways she achieves this feeling of intimacy, as if we’ve already been talking about it – you’re already there

Harrison: Resuming the conversation.

Linda: Yeah, Your’re sitting right there.

Marcy: And to me, that it sounds non-specific, it’s not the thing itself that’s important. It’s not whether you’re looking at a broomstick or a clove, but the taking in of the thing that makes the quality that it leaves you with more important. You’re left with the essence of the thing that will not say, “eventually the butterfly’s gong to fly away. The non-specificity of it makes it more interesting.

Lois: I was just relating it to the other poem, 370, with its now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t quality. Also, I think we have to think about “That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.” As, impermanence itself being seductive.

Edie: We’ve been muttering over here, and we think this is a very erotic poem. The Elizabethan word “plucked,” for instance, is always used in connection with losing virginity. I think the reference to “you knew last night,” I think, forget the butterflies, because they go to Mexico, not Brazil. [laughter]

Elaine: I totally agree. And I find that in the first poem, to Bowles, there’s a flirty, invitingly coquettish air to it, and I think that use of spice just lends to that.

Julie: That plucked just reminded me of carpe diem, because that’s what it means, pluck, seize the day, and I think the whole thing is just grab these visions, these experiences, because they’re fleeting. They may not recur. ….

Cindy: As we know, a Dickinson poem can be about more than one thing. The erotic and the poetic can live together in this happy poem.

Victoria: When I think of the variant, the word vision, that goes with the vision and the words that come to her and can be so fleeting, and express and then pass. It makes a good strong argument that for me this is part of Dickinson’s creative process, or that she sees that this is what happens. It’s all fleeting and ephemeral. You can try to pluck it and try to hold on to it, but it goes.

Cindy: It makes me think of the poem 772. I’ve often heard this one interpreted about writing well, and it is more commonly published with the other version. There are two versions, so if you’re familiar with this poem and the last lines catch you off guard, you’re probably accustomed to the other ending.

Harrison reads:
Essential Oils — are wrung —

The Attar from the Rose

Be not expressed by Suns — alone —

It is the gift of Screws —

The General Rose — decay —

But this — in Lady's Drawer

Make Summer — When the Lady lie

In Spiceless Sepulchre —
                   - J675/Fr772/M358

[ To hear this poem read aloud, go to https://youtu.be/u7cH1maM5j8 
See also "Emily Dickinson as a Second Language: Demystifying the Poetry," by 
Greg Mattingly page 28  ]

Cindy: Now, does anyone know the other ending of the poem?

Many voices: “ceaseless rosemary.”

Cindy: Yes, that was not quite choral, but pretty close. “Ceaseless Rosemary,” so here we have the appearance of our herb. And it’s not a variant. She actually wrote the poem twice. A really different ending. Obviously I wanted to use spiceless, because that’s the topic, but we have repeated here rose, express, summer, which we’ve seen in a couple of our other poems. So, what’s this poem about?

Harriet: The death of a Lady.

Greg: It can be read as the theme that one must undergo trials, and even suffering, and pressure, in order to distill pure essence, poetry – any kind of beauty, any kind of art.

Teresa: I think the first set is about effort, and the second is – I’m not sure what’s the word – languishing.

Jay: Can anyone tell me what an attar is?

Fay: It’s distilled directly from the rose. It’s the gift of perfume. “Screws” is the press. And, normally you would have spices embalming a person, so there’s just a dichotomy here – a spiceless sepulchre. You would have had the spices or the attar used at that time period.

Marcey: So, when you say ceaseless Rosemary it’s like endless rememberence.

Cindy: Yeah, we all want to lie in the ceaseless Rosemary. I don’t want to be in the spiceless sepulchre. [laughter]

Laughter: Too bad the spiceless sepulchre is so wonderfully alliterative. [laughter]

Greg. Rosemary is for remembrance in Victorian flower language, and in Shakespeare’s time they would actually toss it into the coffin.

Others: In Victorian times, too.

Edie: I have a question – the gift of Screws.

Cindy. I was waiting. [laughter] The screws are those of the press, to squeeze out the attar, but certainly screws doesn’t come across as a gift. [laughter]

Greg. The attar is the gift.

Edie. I just can’t make anything out of that line.

Linda. Is it a metaphor for a poet?

Jule: Suffering is not without some value. Through this ordeal of the pressing, a gift comes, and that is that essential oil. A certain respect, or enlightenment, or understanding has to be acquired through anguish.

Marcey. I think if this poem is at all about writing it is the idea that writing can be such hard labor. That “gift of screws” is very powerful.

Lucy. She talks about that distilling of meaning and of truth, and the essential oils are the concentrated essence of what you’re trying to get at through whatever you’re writing and that and it doesn’t just come out…. but it’s drilling down to that nugget of idea. It’s something that she writes about a lot.

Casey. It is not expressed by Suns alone. That helps me out a lot, because then when she says it is the gift of screws, she’s saying struggle and trial – you’ve got to go through that. Nature isn’t going to do it for you.

Jeff. It even suggests medieval torture. Thumbscrews.

Cindy. It’s interesting that this poem is about distilling essence and the last poem was about fleeting moments and yet they both are about the interesting struggles that we have, while holding onto something also distilling out the deep essence of something. Let’s look at 1155 . I thought I knew what it was about, but I may be proven incorrect.

Jay reads:

The Snow that never drifts --

The transient, fragrant snow

That comes a single time a Year

Is softly driving now --

So thorough in the Tree

At night beneath the star

That it was February's Foot

Experience would swear --

Like Winter as a Face

We stern and former knew

Repaired of all but Loneliness

By Nature's Alibit --

Were every storm so spice

The Value could not be --

We buy with contrast -- Pang is good

As near as memory --
              -J1133/Fr1155/M545

[ To hear this poem read aloud, go to https://youtu.be/duh9CZCXeak ]

See also "Emily Dickinson as a Second Language: Demystifying the Poetry," by 

Greg Mattingly page 179]

Well, it’s very clear to me that this is another poem about writing. It’s very clear to me. [laughter]

Cindy. So what is the snow that never drifts? I thought it was apple blossoms

Greg. I’ve been wondering that for a long time!

Cindy. Now, what is February’s foot?

Greg. February comes down like a heavy boot.

Various voices: It looks like February. You’d swear. The apple blossoms look like snow. It only comes once a year.

Jenny. I can see that now, because Were every storm so spice – it’s fragrant.

Susan. Yes, and it only happens once. As you know, we can get snow any time, including May, and it may be transient but it wouldn’t be fragrant. And yet, there’s sternness in the poem because the sight of it recalls the stern face of winter, and the loneliness that that memory evokes, so it’s still rather – oh! – strict at the end. There’s this little moral at the end.­ We buy with contrast -- Pang is good. Well, that almost sounds like, “We better get used to suffering, because that’s how we learn.

Cindy. She had a couple of variants for spice, and I think it shows why she kept “spice,” because the variants are “fair,” or “sweet,” and for me “spice” makes the use of “value” and “buy” richer. Spice comes with some pang, but also at some cost. I’m happy to move to another poem. Let’s go to Unto my books so good to turn.

Jeff reads.
Unto my Books — so good to turn —

Far ends of tired Days —

It half endears the Abstinence —

And Pain — is missed — in Praise —

As Flavors — cheer Retarded Guests

With Banquettings to be —

So Spices — stimulate the time

T ill my small Library—

It may be Wilderness — without —

Far feet of failing Men —

But Holiday — excludes the night —

And it is Bells — within —

I thank these Kinsmen of the Shelf —

Their Countenances Kid

Enamor — in Prospective —

And satisfy — obtained —
                             - J604/Fr512/M250

[ To hear this poem read aloud, go to https://youtu.be/j4PrAn99CPU  ]

Cindy. There are lots of interesting things about this poem. First of all, she could have stopped with the first line, because Unto my Books — so good to turn —; you’ll see that on greeting cards. Kinsmen of the Shelf – who really needs anything more than that? So it kind of makes the rest of it a little harder to read, so Till my small Library makes it a little awkward to read. But, she felt that she had to write more than Unto my Books — so good to turn, so let’s talk about the rest of the poem. What’s happening here?

[It is established that Countenances Kid describes the kidskin covers of books]

Susan. We are so glad that she didn’t put a comma after Contenances. “Their countenance, kid” [much laughter]

Cindy. So, in the first publication of the poem, in 1891, kid was changed to bland.

Jeff. She’s [the early editor, Mable Loomis Todd] referring to kidskin which, undyed, would be pale

Cindy. So, let’s go right to the theme of the day. How do spices stimulate the time? I had a little trouble. There are no variants, so ….

Selina. Is there a variant for “retarded?”

Greg. They’re late, right? [general agreement] I think the problem in the second verse is that there’s just a lot of ellipsis in the last line, it’s “So spices stimulate the time until I get to my small library. [general agreement]

Lois. It’s anticipation.

Linda. I like the alliteration in the third stanza – far feet of failing men.

Clare. Could it be a metaphor for Eden? Wilderness without, Paradise within. Are there any other variants?

Cindy. In the second line, instead of “tired,” she had “homely.”

Julie. I really like her use of excludes the night, because that’s going back to the pure Latin root of “shut’s out,” and so when she’s retreating to she can shut out whatever turmoil there may be, and she gets good gratification within.

Cindy. It’s a nice idea that the Bells stand in for all the joy within.

Greg. Wilderness was a strong word for her Puritan forebears. Moses led his people through the wilderness for forty years and they called their new home here in America a “howling wilderness.” That’s a loaded word.

Jay. I think that’s a good word for all the authors out there who aren’t as good as her, out there in the wilderness. Far feet of failing Men. I think it’s all about her library.

Lois. It can also her perspective on anything that’s going on outside of her library.

Edie. If your just take stanzas 1, 2, and 4, the poem makes a lot of sense. [laughter]

Cindy. Yes, but that’s so with most Dickinson poems. [much laugher] Alright, they’re getting progressively more challenging in my opinion. Let’s do 426m next, which is I gave myself to him. This was titled “The Contract” in the first publication of the poem ion 1891.

Lois reads

I gave myself to Him --

And took Himself, for Pay,

The solemn contract of a Life

Was ratified, this way --

The Wealth might disappoint --

Myself a poorer prove

Than this great Purchaser suspect,

The Daily Own -- of Love

Depreciate the Vision --

But till the Merchant buy --

Still Fable -- in the Isles of Spice --

The subtle Cargoes -- lie --

At least -- 'tis Mutual -- Risk --

Some -- found it -- Mutual Gain --

Sweet Debt of Life -- Each Night to owe --

Insolvent -- every Noon –
                        -J580/Fr426/M170

[  See also "Emily Dickinson as a Second Language: Demystifying the Poetry," by 
Greg Mattingly  page 154  ]

Susan. It’s packed with legalize and contract law. The sexiest lines are Still Fable -- in the Isles of Spice --The subtle Cargoes -- lie --. She’s been overhearing conversations about balancing an account, and perhaps, maybe, thinking of marriage…thinking of other intimacy, not necessarily hers. Look, her brother and sister, her parents, all manner of other arrangements like that … it’s sort of an unromantic poem …

Lois. I totally agree with everything that Susan said. I also see an extraordinary perception into relationships, and it seems obvious it’s about marriage, but it’s just extraordinary in its articulation of human nature in the contract of marriage, with at least an attempt, and I think it’s arguable that at least there’s an extraordinary attempt at being somewhat agnostic about marriage, and extraordinary observation about human nature and about marriages.

Jule. Can someone explain the last line to me? Insolvent -- every Noon. I don’t understand the feeling behind that.

Renee. It may be that it’s something like “Wild Nights, boring mornings.” [much laughter] You give it all when you’re with each other, and then the next day you’re bankrupt.

Lois. It may be that if you want to get any more out of this relationship, that you’re going to have to start giving again. So, insolvency is like starting from scratch again. If you want to keep on getting anything from it, you have to keep on giving.

Susan. This is such a razor’s edge poem. The Wealth might disappoint --/ Myself a poorer prove, and a lot of subjunctive here, great purchaser. Still Fable -- in the Isles of Spice --The subtle Cargoes -- lie -- So, this is still an unfinished story, it’s a relationship still walking along the edge.

Jule. I’ve just realized listening to you, Susan, that Each Night to owe in this relationship you’ve given it all up so by the next day you have nothing left. You have to start again.

Susan. You either scratch or itch. [laughter]

Lucy. I’ve read this as something this horrible thing that she has to do every night. Sweet Debt of Life -- Each Night to owe – there’s nothing wild or sumptuous about this. It’s very contractual and very dry, and not at all sexy or fun. … it’s something that she doesn’t want to do, and she’s giving up her life and her sexuality for this.

Greg. In support of what Lucy’s saying, in medieval Christendom, it was a legal obligation, enforced by ecclesiastical authority,  called “the marriage debt,” and each partner owed it to the other partner, and except for illness, or some crime or other transgression you had to pay that debt or you were going to get a few lashes or be thrown in the dungeon.

Ruth. And what debt are you talking about?

Greg et al. Sexual intercourse.

Marcy. Yet she calls it a sweet debt. This is kind of a little joke. We’re human beings; we’re alive. This is part of the price we pay for being alive, because we have this urge to do things at night.