Search This Blog

24 July 2012

Unto like Story—Trouble has enticed me—

Unto like Story—Trouble 
has enticed me—
How Kinsmen fell—
Brothers and Sister—who 
preferred the Glory—
And their young will
Bent to the Scaffold, or in 
Till God's full time—
When they let go the ignominy—
And Shame went still—

Unto guessed Crests, my moaning 
fancy, leads me,
Worn fair
By Heads rejected—in the lower 
Of honors there—
Such spirit makes her perpetual 
That I—grown bold—
Step martial—at my Crucifixion—
As Trumpets—rolled—

Feet, small as mine—have 
marched in Revolution
Firm to the Drum—
Hands—not so stout—hoisted 
them—in witness—
When Speech went numb—
Let me not shame their 
sublime deportments—
Drilled bright—
Beckoning—Etruscan invitation—
Toward Light—
                                                            J295,  Fr300 (1862)

Don’t we all have secret fantasies about being a singer, poet, heroic nurse or pilot, or brave explorer? In this (and other) poems Emily Dickinson imagines herself as a noble sufferer. Fox’s Book of Martyrs, the stories of Christian saints killed for their beliefs, was part of the Dickinson library and one that the poet was reputed to have read frequently.
            She begins the poem as if she were about to recount her own tale of woe, something like the stories in the book. But then she sidetracks: “Trouble has enticed me,” she confesses. She is drawn to the tales of suffering and shining faith. In one such tale brothers and sister were executed at the scaffold or sent to die in dungeons. But they “preferred the Glory,” so despite their persecution they chanted their faith and died “smiling,” silencing any “Shame.”

Brave martyrs
            In the second stanza, Dickinson imagines that the martyrs have been granted “Crests”, which may be crowns or other emblems of nobility, despite their having been “rejected” here on earth (“the lower country”). Dickinson knows she is bordering on bathos: “my moaning fancy, leads me,” she says, to imagine their “honors.” But the proud spirit in the stories embolden her until she, too, feels ready to march to the drum all the way to her own “Crucifixion.”
            Dickinson has written of her own crucifixion before, perhaps most notably in “Title divine, is mine” where she is “Empress of Calvary.” In that poem she may have been intimating she had become in some mystic way the bride of Christ. She may well, however, have meant that she has endured much more suffering than most people (and the two interpretations are not mutually exclusive). In another poem, “I should have been too glad, I see,” she scathingly suggest that she be crucified since all joy is denied her.
Brightly painted Etruscan tomb
            But this poem has a prouder tone. The poet reflects that the young kinsmen were no bigger than she and yet they marched bravely and held up their little hands in witness. Taking inspiration from them, the poet vows not to “shame their sublime deportments” that brightly beckon towards a more heavenly light. Dickinson calls this an “Etruscan invitation.” The Etruscan civilization preceded and continued through much of the early Roman era. Beautiful Tuscany was their heartland. Things Swiss and Italian appealed to Dickinson, and this plus the romance of their long-departed culture, beckons to her in time of trouble.

1 comment:

  1. I always take a concerted effort to understand a poem like this before turning to look at the interpretations of others (sometimes yours is the only one out there!) and I'm often got at how different the interpretations are. I'm usually convinced by yours, but I'm still processing this one. My take was that the "trouble" was in going after "glory" which would then lead to the "scaffold". Think Macbeth. But then, turning to God in prison (a turn inside the first stanza) the "ignominy" and "shame" of the crime caused by glory-seeking falls away.

    The third stanza I'm still working through. What is the "them" that the not so stout hands are hoisting? A cross? I guess a cross could be a them, two planks of wood. Or is she talking about the drum? I like the idea of her holding up the drum when speech fails, as she is "drilled bright" to the rhythm. Speech failing is interesting coming from a poet. So what she is holding up here is important, as it speaks for her. If it's the cross, it is her suffering for others, if it's the drums she is holding up, then it is meter, form, itself which is speaking for her. Hmm. What do you think?

    The Etruscan thing eludes me. Perhaps it has something to do here with the uniqueness of her lexicon? Etruscan was written in an alphabet derived from Greek but otherwise is not related to any known language.