On a Columnar Self—

On a Columnar Self—
How ample to rely
In Tumult—or Extremity—
How good the Certainty

That Lever cannot pry—
And Wedge cannot divide
Conviction—That Granitic Base—
Though None be on our Side—

Suffice Us—for a Crowd—
Ourself—and Rectitude—
And that Assembly—not far off
From furthest Spirit—God—


   -F740, J789, Fascicle 36, 1863


This poem is, on the surface, a pretty simple metaphor  telling us that we can be sturdy like a column if we rely on the granite base of conviction, safe in a “tumult” or storm. No lever or wedge can shake our faith.

And the poem is, taken in this way, inspiring. In fact, as I was reading through it the first time my daughter came to me crying because her sister told her that nobody liked her. I read this poem to her and explained it, and I could see that it did help her. She seemed to become columnized.

But Dickinson weirds this poem in a few ways. First is the latinate bent of the language; columnar, tumult, extremity, granitic, suffice, rectitude, etc. I’m not sure what to make of this. Perhaps there is meant to be a link here between Roman columns, and the structural rigidity of the latin language.

In Christanne Miller’s notes on this poem she points out that it may be possibly related to Emerson’s essay, “Self-reliance.” And there does seem to be an echo here. First of all, “On a Columnar Self,” could almost function as the title of an essay. Then there is the echo of “Self” and “rely” in the first two lines. Finally, the last line of Emerson’s essay is “Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles,” which does have a similar meaning to the “Rectitude” that suffices in this poem.

There is though, perhaps, a counter-reading here, when one looks closely. “How good the Certainty” may be read with a sarcastic tone. This uncertainty in the poem is especially possible of a poet that tends to undermine “Certainty” at every step.

For a deep dive into the dissonance I'm talking about, I will quote extensively from a terrific essay on this poem I found online by Emily Cogan.

“The second and fourth line of the first stanza appear to undermine the idea of the columnar self and the action of relying on it. The use of “ample” suggests an easy utility; the easy option, when faced with tumult or extremity, is to rely on the ample columnar self. Similarly, “how good the Certainty” suggests that the feeling of self-reliance or getting through something on your own is a good one, perhaps even a selfish one once the whole stanza is taken together. The second stanza has a slight shift: the columnar self seems to be praised by what it can withstand; the lever and the wedge are mechanical images which the columnar self, by comparison something natural, stands against; the capitalisation of “That Granitic Base” adds a certain grandeur to this self; and, standing alone with conviction “though none be on our side” is an almost universally respected act.

These apparent oppositions are questioned by Dickinson even as she is creating them. As is often the case in her poetry, this effect is achieved through her punctuation. In the first stanza “- or Extremity -“ is isolated from the rest of the stanza by dashes making the desire to read it simply as an alternative term for tumult impossible. It could refer back to ample not only as an alternative term but as an alternative implication. If extremity and ample can be interchanged, the sense that relying on one’s columnar self is the easy option no longer stands. It is, rather, a last resort. The capitalisation of “Certainty”, notably the last word in the stanza, allows it, as both term and concept, to act as a bridge between the two stanzas. … It is not only her punctuation but, as the example of certainty suggests, the ways Dickinson structures and connects the poem that convolutes the notion of the columnar self. Like the stanza before it, the final line of the second stanza straddles both second and third stanza. The columnar self is suddenly plural “though none be on our side.”...The final stanza is littered with group terms— us, crowd, ourself, assembly — which reverts back to the earlier two stanzas, the two possible attitudes towards this notion of columnar self in order to further investigate them.”

Finally, we should look at the alternative Dickinson provides in the fascicle for the last two lines:

And that Companion—not far off
From furthest Good Man—God—

These are easier lines to understand than the ones Dickinson opts for; God as Companion, rather than Assembly, and the idea of the God being not far off from the furthest Good Man rather than the furthest spirit. “Faithful” is also added as an alternative for “furthest,” which is also easier to comprehend. After all, what does “furthest” mean? It seems to mean here, the one who has gone furthest toward God, the most “faithful,” but you may also read it as the one who is furthest away from God. It complicates the poem. You might say it takes the simple Emersonian idea of self-reliance, and archly, subtly, opposes it. Is the self-reliant the furthest toward God, or the furthest away?

I also like “Assembly” better than the alternative “Companion.” To think of God as a Companion isn’t as provocative as thinking of Him as an Assembly. For one thing, an Assembly must be assembled BY something. Is this word suggestion that we assemble God? For another thing, if God is an Assembly, then it is not singular like a column. The word Assembly for God points toward our reliance on each other. 

    -/)dam Wade l)eGraff