You said that I “was Great” — one Day —

You said that I “was Great” — one Day —
Then “Great” it be — if that please Thee —
Or Small — or any size at all —
Nay — I’m the size suit Thee —

Tall — like the Stag — would that?
Or lower — like the Wren —
Or other heights of Other Ones
I’ve seen?

Tell which — it’s dull to guess —
And I must be Rhinoceros
Or Mouse —
At once — for Thee —

So say — if Queen it be —
Or Page — please Thee —
I’m that — or nought —
Or other thing — if other thing there be —
With just this Stipulus —
I suit Thee —


    - F736, J738, fascicle 35, 1863

To follow the psychological and philosophical dynamics of a poem such as this one is tricky. What exactly is being said?

Here is Emily being told by an admirer that she is Great. (And who would argue?) Emily, who seems to be immune to flattery, responds by saying that she’ll be Great if that’s what suits the adoring lover (or reader). But if another size suits, she’ll be that instead. She is as great or small as we need her to be. Is she being humble? She’s beyond humble, she’s “relative" to our needs, if we but knew what our needs were. Ironically, it is Dickinson's transcendence of the need to be Great that makes her so Great.

When told that she is “Great,” the poet makes a number of sly moves.

1. She starts by acknowledging that perception is tied into the desires of the perceiver. “You said that I “was Great” — one Day —/ Then “Great” it be — if that please Thee —”

2. The desire for Greatness stems from the lover, but the poet’s responding desire is to be whatever the lover wishes her to be, whatever pleases.

3. “Or Small — or any size at all —/ Nay — I’m the size suit Thee —” Here the poet subverts the compliment. She takes the idea of “greatness” and applies it to size instead of “worth.” In this way she’s is transcending the idea of worthiness. Great means, simply, large. The complimenter has been derailed. That’s not what they meant by “Great.”

4. Just in case we don’t get that she’s talking about size, Dickinson gives us some examples. Would you have me be tall like a stag? Would that do for you? Or would you prefer me small like a wren. This is a philosophical move. She has let us know that she can be any size that suits us, but she is also questioning the relative worth of sizes all together. Is a stag better than a wren just because it is taller?

5. Then in stanza two she makes another funny move. She says, “Tell which — it’s dull to guess —” Even though she’s subtly dismissed the relative worth of sizes, she’s still asking the lover/reader to be clear about what they want. Do you want me to be small or large, make up your mind. There is also a human quality in this statement. The poet is expressing a degree of vulnerability, as she has been left guessing. The implication here is that when we are not clear about our desires, we leave others hanging unfairly. I believe she saying something to the effect of, “You tell me I’m great, but then you ignore me. Which is it?" This tracks with a few other poems in Fascicle 35 in which Dickinson wonders why an unnamed friend is withholding their smile, including the poem just preceding this one, which contains the lines, “But what must be the smile/ Upon Her Friend she could confer/ Were such Her Silver Will —” 

6. “And I must be Rhinoceros/ Or Mouse —/At once — for Thee —” I take this as saying, “When you don’t let me know what you want from me I don't know whether to make myself small (recede in the background) or large. Since I'm willing to be whatever pleases you, the least you can do for me is to let me know what that is."

Here we run into the constant “problem” we have with interpreting Dickinson’s poetry. On one hand these poems are “personal,” and stem from her real-life circumstances and relationships. On the other, they are public and written for the general reader. In a letter to Thomas Wentworth Higginson, in 1862, Dickinson wrote, “When I state myself, as the Representative of the Verse – it does not mean – me – but a supposed person” (L268)

So, in a poem like this one, we are getting a kind of philosophical treatise on relativism, but it is also being delivered from the standpoint of a real person dealing with a real-life situation. This makes it doubly valuable for us. For what would be the value of reading about a squabble between lovers without a dispassionate reflection. And on the flip side, what is the value of philosophical distancing without real world practicality? Thus, in the fine line between the two, we have the unique value of poetry.

7. “So say — if Queen it be —/ Or Page — please Thee —” In the fourth and final stanza Dickinson makes another move as she switches from talking about relative size to power dynamics. A Queen commands and a Page is a servant. (There is also some gender dynamics at play here, as a Page is traditionally male, but subservient to a Queen.) This is interesting in how it plays out in the poem itself. Dickinson is both playing the Page in this poem, “I’ll do whatever suits you, my Queen,” AND playing the Queen by demanding something of the lover/reader/page. She is asking for an assertion of will, but also is willing to be subservient to that will. Emily wants her lover/reader to be assertive about what they want. “It’s dull to guess.”

8. “I’m that — or nought —/ Or other thing — if other thing there be —/ With just this Stipulus —/ I suit Thee —” Though Dickinson is tired of guessing, she is very amenable to the lover/reader’s needs, if he/she would only be clear about them. She can be anything, or nothing ("nought,") either way is okay. She just has one stipulation, that it suits you. (And really, there is another implied stipulation here; that it works for you, and that you tell what works for you.)

Dickinson makes up a word here, “Stipulus.” I’m guessing she did this because "stipulation" didn’t fit the scansion of the poem. She does provide “requirement” as an alternative word in the original MS, but the made-up word is more fun. It suits me.

    -/)dam Wade l)eGraff

a small wren astraddle

P.S. In looking up the letter to Higginson in which Dickinson speaks of her poetic voice as a "supposed person," I made a small discovery. In this same letter she also compares her (real) self to to a small wren, and asks if "this will do." So this letter may be a precursor to this very poem. Here is the letter in full:

"Could you believe me-without? I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur- and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leaves- Would this do just as well?

It often alarms Father-He says Death might occur, and he has Molds of all the rest- but has no Mold of me, but I noticed the Quick wore off those things, in a few days, and forestall the dishonor-You will think no caprice of me-

You said "Dark." I know the Butterfly-and the Lizard-and the Orchis -

Are not those your Countrymen?

I am happy to be your scholar, and will deserve the kindness, I cannot repay.

If you truly consent, I recite, now-

Will you tell me my fault, frankly as to yourself, for I had rather wince, than die. Men do not call the surgeon, to commend - the Bone, but to set it, Sir, and fracture within, is more critical. And for this, Preceptor, I shall bring you-Obedience-the Blossom from my Garden, and every gratitude I know. Perhaps you smile at me. I could not stop for that-My Business is Circumference-An ignorance, not of Customs, but if caught with the Dawn - or the Sunset see me - Myself the only Kangaroo among the Beauty, Sir, if you please, it afflicts me, and I thought that instruction would take it away.

Because you have much business, beside the growth of me-you will appoint, yourself, how often I shall come-without your inconvenience. And if at any time-you regret you received me, or I prove a different fabric to that you supposed - you must banish me -

When I state myself, as the Representative of the Verse-it does not mean-me-but a supposed person. You are true, about the "perfection."

Today, makes Yesterday mean.

You see my posture is benighted.

To thank you, baffles me. Are you perfectly powerful? Had I a pleasure you had not, I could delight to bring it.

Your Scholar"