Perceived by the Denied—
Whose Will—a numb significance—
The Day the Heaven died—
And all the Earth strove common round—
Without Delight, or Beam—
What Comfort was it Wisdom—was—
The spoiler of Our Home?
-Fr826, J965, Fascicle 40, 1864
Let’s start with the ending of this poem and work backward. “The spoiler of Our Home” is a stomach-churning phrase. If Home has infinite power, as Dickinson has written elsewhere, then there is a real horror in spoiling it. Most of us can feel this at some level, though some of us may relate more than others. There are few things worse than having your home spoiled. It feels like "Heaven died."
And all the Earth strove common round
Without Delight, or Beam—
The home has been spoiled. There is no more delight, nor heavenly beam of light. There is only a common earthly striving.
The stakes in this poem are high then. So naturally, we want to know, what is it that happened that “spoiled” the poet’s home? So we go back to the beginning of the poem and find out that the only “fact perceived" is the beloved’s denial of the narrator.
What is the Beloved's reason for the denial? Maybe there’s a very good reason? But, since this reason isn't given to us, the sense that I get here is that those other facts are irrelevant. There is no reason good enough to spoil a home. The only one that matters is what leads to -what Dickinson called in an earlier poem in this fascicle- “the finallest occasion.” It has spoiled the home. Whatever other “facts” there may be pale in comparison to this one.
The poet doesn’t give us the beloved’s purported reason for the denial because it is not pertinent to the overriding fact of the denial itself.
What Comfort was it Wisdom—was—
Whatever "Comfort” there may be in the reason for the denial couldn't possibly make up for the ultimate comfort of the home before it was spoiled. And it would be even more asinine to call reasons for denial “wise,” because what wisdom could there possibly be behind the spoiling of a home?
Think about the spoiled homes you know about and how the spoiler always has some “justification” for their actions. This poem is asking, how can you ever justify breaking up a home? The poem is asking the reader to stop and really think about those possible justifications for ending a relationship.
The poet doesn’t give us the beloved’s purported reason for the denial because it is not pertinent to the overriding fact of the denial itself.
What Comfort was it Wisdom—was—
The spoiler of Our Home?
Whatever "Comfort” there may be in the reason for the denial couldn't possibly make up for the ultimate comfort of the home before it was spoiled. And it would be even more asinine to call reasons for denial “wise,” because what wisdom could there possibly be behind the spoiling of a home?
Think about the spoiled homes you know about and how the spoiler always has some “justification” for their actions. This poem is asking, how can you ever justify breaking up a home? The poem is asking the reader to stop and really think about those possible justifications for ending a relationship.
I think it might be useful to read this poem in light of the homeless problem, and the immigrant problem too. What does it mean to deny someone a home? What possible reason could be good enough?
-/)dam Wade l)eGraff
P.S. Can this poem be read against itself? I wonder about that word "Will" in the first stanza,
Whose Will—a numb significance—
The Day the Heaven died—
Whose Will—a numb significance—
The Day the Heaven died—
I can’t help but think of the phrase, "Not my will, but Thy will be done." Is it the “will” that got in the way in the first place and caused the beloved's denial? In Fr818, Dickinson writes,
Other Betrothal shall dissolve —
Wedlock of Will, decay —
A Wedlock that we have willed our self decays. The Will can be a problem.
But I also think that Dickinson may merely mean here that since the break up of the home, she lacks the will to even get out of bed.
Other Betrothal shall dissolve —
Wedlock of Will, decay —
A Wedlock that we have willed our self decays. The Will can be a problem.
But I also think that Dickinson may merely mean here that since the break up of the home, she lacks the will to even get out of bed.
P.P.S.
What about those other "facts," the unperceived ones? Maybe they do matter? If this is a poem to Sue, and I suspect it is, then Sue's reason for denying Emily may have seemed quite reasonable. After all, Sue was married to Emily's brother. It was a very complicated relationship.
What about those other "facts," the unperceived ones? Maybe they do matter? If this is a poem to Sue, and I suspect it is, then Sue's reason for denying Emily may have seemed quite reasonable. After all, Sue was married to Emily's brother. It was a very complicated relationship.

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ReplyDeleteThe key to interpreting this poem is to answer the question: What was “The Day the Heaven Died?”
ReplyDeleteOne possible answer is the day that Sue married Austin and no longer could devote to ED the attention ED wanted. However, ED realized only gradually the enormity, to her, of her loss of Sue’s attention. We have no evidence that there was a single day when the “Heaven” of her relationship to Sue died.
We do have evidence for a second possible answer. In September 1861, something terrifying happened to ED, as she told T.W. Higginson in her second letter to him, sent on April 25, 1862, eight months later:
“I had a terror-since September-I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I am afraid-.”
The day that “something” so terrifying happened would reasonably qualify as “The Day the Heaven died”. The event that caused such terror can only be guessed, but my guess is that a letter from Charles Wadsworth arrived from Philadelphia telling her he was moving to San Francisco.
ED’s “Master”, according to all her major biographers, was probably Charles Wadsworth.
If my second guess is correct, excerpts from ED’s Master Letter drafts 2 and 3, written just before September 1861, give some idea of the enormity of her terror:
Master Letter draft 2, Franklin dated “early 1861”. ED’s alternate words in parentheses.
“Low at the knee that bore her once unto (royal) wordless rest (now) Daisy (stoops a) kneels a culprit — tell her her (offence) fault Master — if it is ( not so) small eno' to cancel with her life, (Daisy) she is satisfied — but punish ( do not) dont banish her — shut her in prison, Sir — only pledge that you will forgive — sometime — before the grave, and Daisy will not mind — She will awake in (his) your likeness.”
Master Letter draft 3, Franklin dated “summer 1861”:
“God made me — (Sir) Master — I did'nt be — myself.”
“Have you the Heart in your breast — Sir — is it set like mine — a little to the left — has it the misgiving — if it wake in the night — perchance itself to it — a timbrel is it — itself to it a tune?”
“These things are (reverent) holy, Sir, I touch them (reverently) hallowed, but persons who pray — dare remark (our) "Father"!
“I want to see you more — Sir — than all I wish for in this world and the wish — altered a little — will be my only one — for the skies.”
“(Would it do harm-yet we both fear God —) Would Daisy disappoint you — no-she would'nt — Sir — it were comfort forever-just to look in your face, while you looked in mine — then I could play in the woods till Dark- till you take me where Sundown cannot find us — and the true keep coming — till the town is full. (Will you tell me if you will?)"
The author of these Master Letter lines could easily consider herself
"the Denied— / Whose Will—a numb significance— / The Day the Heaven died—"
Stanza 2
ReplyDeleteThe day after “The Day the Heaven died”, ED’s life became terror. All the things she loved before, her poetry, her garden, her family, no longer gave her a “Beam” of inspiration that made her life worth living.
What comfort was it now, the “Wisdom” she acquired from her relationship with Wadsworth? That failure spoiled ED’s “Home”, especially her delight from writing poetry. Now she creates poems to forget the past and fight depression.
Even the hope of meeting her Master in Heaven no longer gives her reason to plod through each day. From here on, she’ll just tread water until her dark curtain falls.