Conscious am I in my Chamber –

Conscious am I in my Chamber –
Of a shapeless friend –
He doth not attest by Posture –
Nor confirm – by Word –

Neither Place – need I present Him –
Fitter Courtesy
Hospitable intuition
Of His Company –

Presence – is His furthest license –
Neither He to Me
Nor Myself to Him – by Accent –
Forfeit Probity

Weariness of Him, were quainter
Than Monotony
Knew a Particle – of Space’s
Vast Society –

Neither if He visit Other –
Do He dwell – or Nay – know I –
But Instinct esteem Him
Immortality –

      – FR773, J679, fascicle 37, 1863

This poem marks the beginning of fascicle 37. I’ve come to view each fascicle as a discrete volume of poetry. Dickinson was very careful about her arrangement of everything, and I’m sure fascicles were no different. (See her childhood herbarium for an example of what I mean. The pages full of local flora are all beautifully arranged.) So when I start a new fascicle I find it as exciting as cracking a new book by my favorite author.

What a terrific start too. This fascicle begins with an exploration of consciousness itself, and consciousness’s instinctive sense of a loving Presence.

This is a poet zooming out, from her small chamber, to the largest of subjects, "Space's Vast Society." She begins,

Conscious am I in my Chamber –

This is the existential condition of mankind, no? We are timeless consciousness confined in the temporal chamber of our bodies.

What are we conscious of?

Of a shapeless friend –

It’s easy to skim past this simple referent, “friend,” but it says a lot. Perhaps it says everything. There is something friendly in the vastness. It is not just an endless void. There is “love” out there, even if that love is just in here.

I appreciate the adjective “shapeless," because the thing about this friendly Presence is that it is beyond a definite shape, which I take to also mean beyond definition. It’s not something that can be pinned down by man’s need to dissect or control it.

He doth not attest by Posture –

Since “He” has no shape, I assume there is no gender either ; ) We also note It has no “posture,” which I take to be a small jab at the “upright” posture of the pious and righteous, and of all posturing. It's funny that this is said in the biblical language of posturing, "doth not attest."

Nor confirm – by Word –

Also, it's interesting that this Presence is not speaking to us through “Word.” Most likely this is a sly reference to the Bible, which is commonly referred to as The Word of God. But it could refer to any words written by anybody. Nobody knows, even the poet, and the best she can do is intuit that this Presence is friendly.

Neither Place – need I present Him –
Fitter Courtesy
Hospitable intuition
Of His Company –

Neither in Word, nor in deed (posture) is the poet going to present (small p) this Presence (capital P). The best courtesy she will give to this Presence, and a more fitting one than Word or Deed, is to pass along her intuition of this friendliness. Her intuition is that this Presence is hospitable. It likes our company. We note the subtlety that the intuition itself is qualified as "hospitable." To see a friendly "Presence" in the universe is to be a friendly "Presence" in the universe. If our intuition is hospitable, then what we perceive is, in turn, hospitable. 

Presence – is His furthest license –

Mere Presence. That’s as far as this Presence can be presented by the poet.

Neither He to Me
Nor Myself to Him – by Accent –
Forfeit Probity

That’s an intriguing thought. To “forfeit probity” would mean to give up a sense of honesty, or decency, or righteous posture. This Presence has its own sense of Probity, as we have ours. I love the idea that our “accent,” the way we speak, our “Word” carries our own sense of personal Probity. In other words, we all have a different way of being honest and decent.

The way Dickinson puts this is so clever. We don’t have to Forfeit our own sense of Truth to someone else's definition, even for that of The Presence Itself. (I think Dickinson means something akin to God when she speaks of this Presence, but it would be loaded, and too definitive, I think, for her to use the word God.) And, even better, The Presence doesn’t have to Forfeit Its moral sense for us either. This is funny I think. It’s one thing to say that we need not give up our own sense of morality for someone else’s definition. But it's cheeky to say, essentially, that God need not give up His sense of morality for us.

Weariness of Him, were quainter
Than Monotony
Knew a Particle – of Space’s
Vast Society –

Okay, so the poet intuits that the Presence is friendly, but she also presents it as endlessly interesting to get to know. To become tired (weary) of Him would be less likely than if a particle of the universe could become bored by all of the vast “Society” of Space. It's a big party!

The use of the word “quainter” here is great. Quaint means pleasingly old-fashioned, but can carry a bit of sarcasm too. So here it reads like this, “Oh, so you find the vast universe weary and monotonous? Oh, that’s quaint.” Dickinson is smiling at our complaints of being tired and bored. She’s saying, “Look here! The universe is vastly interesting and friendly.”

Neither if He visit Other –
Do He dwell – or Nay – know I –
But Instinct esteem Him
Immortality –

Dickinson can’t speak for anyone else. This is her intuition only. Does He visit anyone else besides her? She can only speak for her own consciousness. Does He dwell in Her, or anywhere for that matter? She doesn’t know.

But her instinct is that this Presence is Immortal. Dickinson added an alternative word here for “Esteem” which is “Report.” This friendly Presence may or may not be Immortal, but the poet’s instinct reports It to be so, and even esteems It for being so.

Intuition tells the poet that there is a welcoming Presence, and her highly-honed instinct tells her it is both immensely vast (“Space’s Vast Society”) and Immortal.

That’s enough, yes?


              -/)dam Wade l)eGraff


              

Note: There is a variant of this poem that is addressed to Sue and signed "Emily." Sue was more traditionally religious in her beliefs than Emily and I think this poem, along with many many others by Dickinson, may be seen as part of an ongoing conversation the two women had about the subject of God over the 35 years they knew one another.