Emily Dickinson International Society, Amherst Chapter, August 2021

EDIS, Amherst Chapter, August 6th, 2021 Robert. Well, I was having fun with the idea of opening infinitives in Emily Dickinson, and trying to figure out how they contribute to her poetry, and how they’re consistent with the poems she brings us. I guess it started with my going through the index and seeing that wow! She has 36 poems that begin with “To.” So I picked out those that were infinitives – “to” followed by a verb rather than “To” followed by a pronoun. I read through the ones that were followed by a verb, and I guess what hit me was, one, that Emily’s condensed style – the succinctness of her poetry – was really consistent with starting with an infinitive – that the infinitive really went right to the essence of a poem in a very succinct way. Also, thinking about infinitives connected with her exploration of infinity, and in some sense that the infinitive is in some sense a grammatical way of relating us to the infinite, in the sense that the infinitive is a verb, a tenseless way of expressing an idea that doesn’t ground us in a particular time and place. Would anybody like to read that? [The first poem] Greg Reads To tell the Beauty would decrease To state the Spell demean — There is a syllable-less Sea Of which it is the sign — My will endeavors for its word And fails, but entertains A Rapture as of Legacies — Of introspective Mines — I see what you mean, Robert, the word “tell” is very key, isn’t it – it’s the whole essence of the poem. Robert. Yeah. And here, starting with double infinitives, it kind of condenses the essence into the first two lines. Sandy. Yeah, those two lines are really strong – really assertive. Robert. And, I know I went from the idea of “syllable-less sea,” to thinking “what a clumsy expression,” to really appreciating that sense of expressing beauty with words – really can’t capture the essence of beauty, because you’re striving to apply words to it that just can’t get there. And another thing about this poem, as I was kind of reading it in two ways. One, I was reading it as an expression of love – I mean to be able to express the beauty – to express the spell that the experience of beauty brings, is beyond the capacity to express, but then I was really seeing it as the process of writing poems. To express the beauty of a poem – the beauty of the vision you’re experiencing, you might experience that, as a poet, as “syllable-less.” You can’t get there. Lois. I love that line, “My will endeavors for its word.” If I walked up to some people and said, “try as I might I cannot figure out what word I want to use to describe this – whatever,” But if I I said “My will endeavors for its word…,” [laughter] Greg. Yeah, we have to use that one and incorporate it into our normal conversation. Robert. But the “but entertains,” that sense of “Rapture as of Legacies./ Of introspective Mines,” while you haven’t found the word, like that poem Shall I take thee, the Poet said/ To the propounded word? – If you haven’t found the word in some “introspective Mine,” you’ve experienced the vision that brings the rapture, although you can’t [laughing] communicate it. Greg. It’s introspective. Sandy. But you can experience it Robert, Well I can say – the poem that I’ve been connecting that one with is To own the Art within the Soul. Lois reads. To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain Is an unfurnished Circumstance Possession is to One As an Estate perpetual Or a reduceless Mine. Greg. There’s another mine. Lois. Yeah, you know, when I first started reading Dickinson, the poems about the richness of the solitary life – I just went to school with these, with Dickinson – because, instead of somebody telling me to meditate, and just feel better, something about these poems was just so enticing. I knew I didn’t have the degree of richness in my own inner life, and yet, to read one of these poems, gives you the sense that you do, like your inner life is being enriched. It’s just one of the exquisite aspects of Dickinson’s poetry. Robert. Well I really liked the way you expressed that; it captures what happens to me, too. I guess I would add that the reading of the poem serves to enrich my inner life, so it becomes part of myself. … I have responded to “reduceless” the same way I responded to “syllable-less. That initial reaction – “Oh, that’s a clumsy word, and then really getting it – that sense of a mine that is forever rich. The wealth of the mind – the mine – is not reduced. Lois. A mine within the mind. [laughs] Robert. Yeah. Greg. The sound of that word “syllable-less” became pleasing o me after I read it for a while. I kind of like it. [agreement] Robert. I feel similarly, except when I try to pronounce it. [laughter. Maybe it’s an indication that ED has to be read silently sometimes. I also paused at As an Estate perpetual. I guess that’s a way of saying the estate is always rich? Sandy. Yeah, like an inheritance? Like, in the sense of inheritance? Greg. She has another poem, Of all the sounds despatched abroad, She describes the sound of the wind – that it quivers down with tufts of Tune permitted Gods, and me, and then she writes : Inheritance, it is, to us-- Beyond the Art to Earn-- Beyond the trait to take away By Robber, since the Gain Is gotten not of fingers-- And inner than the Bone-- Hid golden, for the whole of Days Lois. You know, I guess that – I don’t know the year that this was written, but, the period of Dickinson’s lifetime coincided with a lot of news reports of mining disasters, and there was the Gold Rush going on, and I’m sure Edward and Austin had things to say about the wealth that was being both developed and squandered, and also causing the loss of life in disasters in the mines. I think that this poem – where she talks of a “reduceless Mine” – I feel that she’s being influenced by a lot of the cultural issues of the day. And, in reading news reports and hearing conversations kind of prompted her to use these metaphors for the internal mine that was important to her. Greg. Yeah, and she used the name Potosi in one poem – it’s a diamond mine mountain in South America somewhere Robert. It’s interesting that in both this poem and the one we just read, To tell the Beauty, she uses the word “entertain.” Here, “The Soul to entertain. So I’m envisioning this as the process of writing poetry, and the poet is connecting with the messages of the soul, and I have a little trouble with “The Soul to entertain.” I mean, I like the idea of entertaining the soul … Greg. Could it be in the sense that you entertain an idea? Robert. Oh, yeah. Yeah, that makes it more understandable. And I get ”With Silence as a Company.” I’m trying to get around the idea of “Festival maintain.” Is that something like experiencing the joyousness of the process? Lois. The process, but also her own inner life. Certainly, poetry came out of it. I read an article recently that was contradicting those who say that Dickinson was depressed; she wrote about death and this, that, and the other thing, and it said she wasn’t depressed, she wrote. When she said, “Men say what to me,” this line “With Silence as a Company,” I can just hear echoes of people going, “What?” Because her profound interrogation of silence itself brought about what you might call an entertainment. Silence, to a lot of people, means boredom, right? And, to Dickinson, silence was just something to investigate, and delve into as deeply as she could possibly go. At least partially, she comes to define it as the company that so many of us just – not that she was anti-social – she just found company sufficient for her entertainment within her own mind and heart. Greg. This is one of those poems that gives you the sense that, whoever is writing it is pretty high on life. She describes it as a festival, Robert. On the second stanza, I was naturally saying, even though I was reading Franklin, “Is an unfurnished Circumstance,” looking more closely, I saw Franklin has “In an unfurnished Circumstance.” Greg. Who has “Is,” Miller? Robert. Miller and Johnson, I believe, and I like “Is” better. Lois. I do to. Sandy. It could be either, really. It works either way. Greg. Does Miller indicate a variant? … I like “In an unfurnished Circumstance” best. Robert. [Consults Miller] Oh, Miller has “In” also. Sandy. So it’s just Johnson that has “Is?” Greg. Yeah, and there’s no variant. Johnson didn’t have all the manuscripts at his disposal. Sometimes he had to work with photocopies, and there are a few instances where he got it a little bit wrong, so this is probably an example of that. There’s only one version – one copy. Lois. It strikes me – this poem is just one long sentence. To own the Art within the Soul is the whole poem. Sandy. But if it’s “In,” it’s not one long sentence, is it. Robert. No, I guess not. Greg. No, I think it could be. Lois. With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain In an unfurnished Circumstance Greg. Right. Lois. Possession is to One As an Estate perpetual. So, this possession corresponds to “own.” If you own something, you have a possession Robert. Shall we move on to another poem? Sandy reads. To pile like Thunder to its close Then crumble grand away While everything created hid This—would be Poetry— Or Love—the two coeval come— We both and neither prove— Experience either and consume— For none see God and live— Lois. That poem just needs an orchestral accompaniment [laughs] Robert. Well, I guess you could say, To pile like Thunder to its close, and then to crumble grand away, gives the essence of the experience. Of creating the poem, perhaps. And does it give the essence of the experience of love. Greg. Well, love crumbles grand away quite often, doesn’t it. [laughter] All too often. Sandy. It depends on what she means by love, right? There are so many senses of what that could be. Robert. “We both and neither prove—” Lois offers a note from Miller. “To pile like: may allude to either, or both, Exodus 33:20 ‘Thou canst not see my face, : for there shall be no man see me and live’ And also the story of Semele, the mother of Dionysus, who asked Zeus to reveal himself to prove that he was her lover; although he revealed himself through the smallest of his lightning bolts and thunderclouds, she was consumed in flame and died.” So I guess the sentiment here – I’m not quite sure – does she mean that if you really love, you sort of die to yourself? That all real love is sacrificial? Robert. Well I guess the line “Experience either and consume” - the way I’m reading it is “Experience either and be consumed” – that sense of the creative act is in itself is all-consuming. And the creative act perhaps – the love experience or pile like thunder – has its essence in the process of creation. Sandy. I think it serves one to have familiarity with her language and style, because I was puzzling about that and consume. Now if you tell me that can be and be consumed, it makes perfect sense. It also could be ecstatic love – a moment of ecstatic love. Lois. You know, that first verse creates such an image – you know, we’ve all seen these nature programs on Public Television, and even Walt Disney, when the lightning and thunder is going, the animals are all scurrying to get to their nests and their little holes – “While everything created hid.” I think she’s comparing poetry awe-filled fright that we creatures have when thunder piles and then passes; It’s just an image I see – maybe seen too many movies [laughs]. Greg. I just looked up the word “prove” in her dictionary, Transitive verb. There are 8 different definitions, and the 8th one is ”Men prove God when by their provocation they put his patience to trial.” Thaat’s a new one on me. Lois. That’s a new one. Amazing. Robert. Well. “To pile like Thunder” I guess is that moment when you’re experiencing love, that awesome moment maybe is parallel to that sense of that moment when you’re experiencing the creativity of the poem. Another one we’ve done fairly recently, but I really like it, is To flee from memory. Greg reads. To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise Would scan the cowering Van Of men escaping From the mind of man Robert. And again, the opening infinitive condenses the essence of the experience with a concision that other ways of expressing the idea would take more words, which perhaps would be less consistent with her style. I love the phrase, Would scan the cowering Van of men. Greg. There are numerous variants on that line. Instead of “cowering,” you can have eager | breathless | thrilling | hurrying van | fluttering Van. Sandy. Wow. Robert. Does someone have a preference for one, that they would choose. Greg. As usual, it’s the one that she has in the line that I like the best. Robert. It’s that thought of To flee from memory, that sense of the grip of memory, the burden of memory Lois. Right. [laughs] It reminds me of Remorse is Memory awake. Robert. I like the way she analogizes in the beginning, if we were birds, and we had the wings, we would fly, and then she comes back to Birds with surprise and kind of stays with that metaphor. Greg. Yeah, she also has “Birds with dismay.” Robert. Do you like “surprise” better than dismay? Greg. I like “dismay” better. But Franklin has “surprise” in his Reader’s Edition and “dismay” in his Variorum, Johnson does the same thing, and Miller has “dismay.” – These are just notes that I took beforehand. Yeah. I like “dismay” [laughs] – it goes with “cowering.” Robert. Well, “surprise” seems to echo some of the S sounds that come up – “slower,” and “scan,” and “escape.” Greg. Uh-huh. “Ourself - behind Ourself Concealed -/ Should startle - most – “The enemy within. I forget how the one about the single hound goes. Sandy.” Attended by a Single Hound/ Its own Identity.” “This Consciousness that is aware.” Robert. It is fun, isn’t it, to be into this enough that you can connect the other poems. Greg. It’ so important, because, if it doesn’t make sense and you’re scratching your head on one poem, and you can find something similar, even in a letter sometimes, it opens the door. Lois. Talking about comparing, Had we the Wings Many would fly – if they’ve got the dating correct – was written in 1874, and [Lois Reads] Remorse - is Memory - awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window - and at Door - Its Past - set down before the Soul And lighted with a Match - Perusal - to facilitate - And help Belief to stretch – Remorse is cureless - the Disease Not even God - can heal - For 'tis His institution - and The Adequate of Hell – Robert. Shall we try To fill a Gap? LoisThis was written 1863, so it seems to me that on this idea of memory she has mellowed. And the intensity is so much more gripping than in that earlier poem. But she did become much more concise – and she used your infinitive to do it … You know, it strikes me that she makes a huge assumption with these poems that start with “To.” She’s making the assumption that her reader wants to fill a gap, or, that the reader wants to flee from memory. It just hit me that these infinitives really employ that mental condition of assuming that her reader is experiencing or believing or wanting the same thing. Alisa, I think that was a useful thing to say. Thank you. Robert reads. To fill a Gap Insert the Thing that caused it— Block it up With Other—and ’twill yawn the more— You cannot solder an Abyss With Air. Alisa. That’s mysterious to me. Lois. It is, yes. … Well, a gap implies a limited space, whereas “abyss” is comparable to infinity, right? So she’s making a strange comparison here between a gap and an abyss. It seems a little inconsistent. Robert. I guess some of it is, what has created the gap – you imagine the gap is created by someone’s death? Then, how would you insert the thing that caused it? Alisa. I find the word “Air” extremely mysterious. Does anybody have any insight there? Greg. Air? It’s insubstantial, so you can’t fill the gap with just air. Robert. Could “Air” be words? I’m thinking to fill a gap in the creative process – to fill a gap in regard to the creation of poetry, Insert the Thing that caused it Greg. To go back to the word “gap” just for a moment, there are some geological gaps – yawning canyons between 2 geological formations [the Cumberland Gap] Lois. A variant is “You cannot Plug a Sepulchre with air.” Greg. “Abyss” is a word that she uses in several places, isn’t it. It’s one of her words that she likes. Lois. It tickles me that she uses the word “plug;” that’s a very prosaic word. Robert. Along the lines of Lois’ earlier comment, if someone comes along and says, “How can I fill this gap?” and Emily’s response is, “To fill the Gap Insert the Thing that caused it” Greg. Which, as you say, is hard to do if it’s someone who’s died. Lois. I don’t think it’s about death. It seems to me it’s a reflection on a person’s experience, or knowledge. I’m thinking of a gap as someone who’s uneducated. The only way to fill the gap in education in someone’s life is to provide them with an education. Or someone would say, if there’s a gap in your faith, the only way to fill that gap is what, I don’t know, prayer? Read the Bible? That would be – to me – an example of things that are consistent with the gap. A gap you might say is defined by what’s not there. Greg. How about this? This is Franklin 39 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God! Angels—twice descending Reimbursed my store— Burglar! Banker – Father! I am poor once more! That strikes me as a possible gap – a gap in her life – two people that she’s lost, and the only way she can fill that gap is with another special, dear person – people who were very close to her that we know that she lost. … and, plugging the sepulchre makes me think of Jesus in the sepulchre plugged with a boulder. Robert. I find myself that I keep coming back to the creative process. To fill a gap in one’s writing, the gap being you just can’t find the words. “Insert the Thing that caused it” -the instruction is to come back to that thing that you’re trying to capture with the word. If you block it up with other – if you just put some other word in there – and it doesn’t fit, the yearning to express that vision is going to yawn the more. You can’t fill in that gap by plugging in a word that’s just air – that doesn’t really capture the vision that is maintaining that gap until you find the proper expression. Lois. Does this contradict our first poem, “To tell the Beauty would decrease?” Robert. I guess it does in some ways, doesn’t it. My interpretation would be that if you have the vision, but aren’t coming up with the word, there is a gap – rather than, if you have the vision, it is in and of itself a source of rapture. Lois. It either contradicts it, or we’re not getting something. Robert. Or, that when she was writing 1689 [To tell the Beauty would decrease] as opposed to 647 [To fill a gap], she had moved on. … Greg. Remember, she can take different points of view on the same subject. Robert. Well, there are three opening infinitives here that I connected with Sue. Shall we do “To see her is a Picture?” 1597 in Franklin. And here she is piling on infinitives. To see her is a Picture — To hear her is a Tune — To know her a disparagement of every other Boon To know her not — Affliction — To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the Sun Were shining in your Hand. Well, I guess part of the message here is, one infinitive is not enough to express the love that she’s experiencing. [laughter] Lois. Quite lovely. Greg. It is, isn’t it. Yeah. Sandy. Very different from 1689, because she is attempting to tell what it is in this case, I think. [general agreement] Robert. It’s interesting, the word “own,” to me – that sense of own her for a Friend. I guess – in terms of the time that she was writing – that might be as close a way of expressing a sense of what it would be like to be married to her – a sense of ownership. Greg. Doesn’t she have a poem that begins “To own a Susan?” Alisa. That’s the last one that you put in this collection, Robert. To own a Susan of my own Is of itself a Bliss — Whatever Realm I forfeit, Lord, Continue me in this! Lois. The play of words with possession and forfeit. To own one thing is to forfeit something else. … There is a [inaudible] that is in play, I suppose. In love, right? Some people get defeated and even destroyed by their need to own something, or someone, and yet, there’s always that pride of ownership, the kind of feeling that goes with a deep attachment. Robert. That line, “Whatever Realm I forfeit, Lord, Continue. me in this” – it’s almost like her praying for support not to let go of her love for Susan. She doesn’t want to give that up. She really wants support to continue in this loving connection. Greg. I’ll just insert a note here, a copy of this poem was sent to a Mrs. Sarah Tuckerman with a note beginning “Dear Friend” and signed “Love Emily.” Lois. Which poem? Greg. To see her is a picture. Lois. So, do you think that she’s applying this poem to others that she had great affection for? Greg. Well, that would be just a speculative leap on my part, but I’m sure she had intense relationships with people we don’t even know about. Like Elizabeth Seelye – her children said – they burnt your personal letters, usually, when you died – Elizabeth Seelye died, and her children later told Mabel Todd that they burned 75 letters from Emily Dickinson. We don’t know anything about that relationship. So, Sarah Tuckerman is another person in her life that we know next to nothing about. Robert. She lived locally? Greg. Yeah – the wife of a college professor. Polly Longsworth told me that the night that Gib died she was over there throughout the ordeal. I don’t know how she knows that, but if anybody … Robert. Shall we try 1601? To be forgot by thee Surpasses Memory Of other minds The Heart cannot forget Unless it contemplate What it declines I was regarded then Raised from oblivion A single time To be remembered what — Worthy to be forgot Is my renown So, the idea of simply being forgot by a special person, knowing that at some time you were remembered by that special person, is a gift in and of itself. Greg. That’s how I read it. You have to at least notice me, in order to forget me. Robert. Anybody endorse that idea with any relationship here? Greg. Ya gotta wonder sometimes, when she writes things like this. Lois. I am not convinced, Miss Dickinson. [laughs] Greg. Right. Robert. I guess it’s a sense of self-denigration that I experience in the poem – that the narrator can express herself in that way. [a question arises about a poem citing idolatry] … Lois. Well, how would you know if someone contemplated – if somebody just forgets you, how would you know that they ever even thought of you? If you meet somebody at a party, and you remember something about that person, and they don’t have any recollection of your face whatsoever … [laughs] Greg. OK, I found two poems that contain the word “idolatry.” One of them is You constitute a time I deemed eternity and Now I knew I lost her/ Not that she was gone. Robert. That’s the one. Greg reads. Now I knew I lost her — Not that she was gone — But Remoteness travelled On her Face and Tongue. Alien, though adjoining As a Foreign Race — Traversed she though pausing Latitudeless Place. Elements Unaltered — Universe the same But Love’s transmigration — Somehow this had come — Henceforth to remember Nature took the Day I had paid so much for — His is Penury Not who toils for Freedom Or for Family But the Restitution Of Idolatry. “But Remoteness travelled/ On her Face and Tongue..” That’s powerful. Lois. It’s amazing, because you immediately know what she’s talking about. Greg. It’s almost like you feel it yourself. [general agreement] Chilling Lois. She could have stopped right there. [laughs] Robert. That other line, too, “Traversed she though pausing/ Latitudeless Place” Greg. That’s one place I read it wrong. The accent should be on the first syllable of “Traversed. In her dictionary, both forms of that word are accented on the first syllable. I know that only because that word is also in There is no Frigate like a Book, which many of us give on tours, so it’s familiar in its many particulars. If you say traVERSE it spoils the meter. Robert. It’s interesting - Now I knew I lost her captures the same idea as in To be forgot by Thee, but, not the same spirit. Lois. Right. Robert. In 1779 it’s a cherishing the fact that she was once remembered, which is hard to get my mind around, whereas, in 1274, it’s grieving over the loss, and recognizing at the same time that it has to do with the restitution of idolatry. Greg. OK: His is penury not who toils for freedom, or for family, right? That’s how to read that. I didn’t read it right the first time. Lois. His is penury who toils for the restitution of idolatry. Greg. Yeah. That’s it. Robert. It’s so powerful in that sense of the slipping away of love. … Well, how about To help our Bleaker Parts, 1087. Sandy reads To help our Bleaker Parts Salubrious Hours are given Which if they do not fit for Earth Drill silently for Heaven— What are our Bleaker Parts, do you suppose? Name one bleaker part of yours. I’m thinking the difficult times, right? Difficult experiences? Greg. Loneliness? Feeling rejected, or friendless? Sandy. So, what are the salubrious hours? Greg. Well, some little sprite appears on your computer screen in a Zoom meeting, and you have to smile. Sandy. Or it could mean the experience of those difficult hours. They don’t help us much here on earth, but they could help us with soul wisdom. Robert. So is it that the giving of the salubrious art, salubrious hours, enriches one’s soul, or being whether the salubrious hours serve to lighten the bleakness. Alisa. It makes me think of – is it Keats’ letter? Where he says it’s a school for souls. The bad things that happen here on earth are a school for souls – that’s what it made me think of. Robert. That last line, “Drill silently for Heaven.” I’m not quite sure how to handle the drill. Alisa. Like a military drill, maybe – practicing. Greg. OK, to drill can also mean “to flow gently.” That’s in her dictionary. It can also mean “to master, or “to sow and drill” and I don’t even kno2w what that means. Sandy. I imagined it as a penetrating motion towards. I think that’s perfectly valid and wouldn’t take away from another way of thinking of it. I think they’re mutually beneficial, not contradictory. Robert. Shall we bounce to one more? Does anyone want to hang your head? Franklin 160 To hang our head – ostensibly – And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind – Affords the sly presumption That in so dense a fuzz – You – too – take Cobweb attitudes Upon a plane of Gauze! I like that second stanza, it’s a lot of fun I’m feeling kind of [inaudible] as I go through it. That word ‘Gauze,” isn’t that in the poem that you brought to us, Lois – your experience, I think, The Heart has narrow Banks. Lois. Uh-huh Robert. The last stanza has Gauze” in it. Lois. I don’t know if there’s another meaning for gauze, but to me it says that it’s a plane of not anything substantial, or something that holds up. Is that how you read it? Robert. That makes sense, yeah. Sandy. I thought of clouds, almost. Robert. So, does it say, To hang our heads – to be in a place of shame? To be in a place of sadness? Greg. Well, if she’s doing it ostensibly, it suggests that it was not the true posture of her mind. Lois. Right. It’s very complex. How many of you have had an experience like that? You were assuming a sense of sadness, or defeat, and then something happened, and you realized you didn’t really feel that way at all. [general agreement] Greg. It’s like you get fooled into feeling ashamed when you really shouldn’t. Lois. Yeah, it’s like it doesn’t really fit who you are. I like the word “sly” - Affords the sly presumption. It’s kind of like, nobody else caught me out on my ruse, but I caught myself out. Robert. It’s interesting that the first stanza is speaking in terms of our, inclusive of oneself, and the second stanza is speaking in the second person – as to the other person.