The Clamoring for Gold—
It kept me from a Thief, I think,
For often, overbold
With Want, and Opportunity—
I could have done a Sin
And been Myself that easy Thing
An independent Man—
But often as my lot displays
Too hungry to be borne
I deem Myself what I would be—
And novel Comforting
My Poverty and I derive—
We question if the Man—
Who own—Esteem the Opulence—
As We—Who never Can—
Should ever these exploring Hands
Chance Sovereign on a Mine—
Or in the long—uneven term
To win, become their turn—
How fitter they will be—for Want—
Enlightening so well—
I know not which, Desire, or Grant—
Be wholly beautiful—
-Fr856, J801, Fascicle 38, 1864
A recurring theme of Emily Dickinson’s poetry is that true wealth may best be found in poverty.
In this one she adds a wrinkle and admits to playing at riches.
I play at Riches—to appease
The Clamoring for Gold—
Playing at riches is like the welfare recipient who spends precious food money to play the lottery, and strikes it rich, but only in her fantasy.
There are so many ways to play at riches. I do it, for example, when I go to the theater to see a big blockbuster.
“Mothers of America/ Let your kids go to the movies!” wrote Frank O’hara in one of his best poems, Ave Maria. “They may even be grateful to you/ for their first sexual experience/ which only cost you a quarter/ and didn’t upset the peaceful home.”
And while we are invoking O’hara, how about these lines from his great poem, My Heart,
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar.
Recently I played at riches when I luxuriated in the lavish decor of Nia DaCosta’s film adaptation of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler, a scandalous update on Ibsen’s scandalous play. I wonder if Emily saw or read any of Ibsen’s plays? They were contemporaries. He was 2 years older than she was, but outlasted her by several. “Hedda Gabler” was written after she died, but she might have read “A Doll’s House” or any of a dozen others.
Fantasies fulfill us enough to keep us away from the kind of overwhelming deprivation that leads one to theft.
The poem continues,
It kept me from a Thief, I think,
For often, overbold
With Want, and Opportunity—
I could have done a Sin
And been Myself that easy Thing
An independent Man—
If you were to actually go after your fantasies, to pursue that billion, you would likely have to take it by force, no matter how subtle the means.
It is worth noting that Emily’s father was a land speculator. He was driven to do this in part to make up for the debts of his father. But it is also worth noting that Emily’s Grandfather went into debt for the sake of a cause, Amherst College, which he practically financed and built himself. Emily takes after her grandfather.
The idea here is that if you can allow yourself to fantasize and “play at riches,” then temptation will no longer be too great to resist. You have relieved the pressure enough to get through the greater temptation.
It reminds me of William Blake’s proverb, “Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.”
There’s another poem by Dickinson with a similar idea, Fr784, in which she says, "a Quick…Anonymous Delight…Consoles a Wo so monstrous/ That did it tear all Day,/ Without an instant’s Respite –/ “Twould look too far – to Die –” However, in that poem, unlike this one, there follows a stern warning about the dangers of becoming sated and falling asleep at the wheel.
The speaker of this poem is male, which ties this poem to the male gaze. If you want to “steal” the girl, which might mean anything from paying for her to something more sinister, that would be “easy.” That would be the domain of the “independent man.”
With the word “independent” we have a crux in this poem, the conflict the poem hinges on. To have the love of a woman (or man) it takes a certain kind of dependence. In other words, it takes being dependable, which in turn takes integrity. Integrity, as opposed to theft, is hard.
But often as my lot displays
Too hungry to be borne
A lack of love (“too hungry”) is something so difficult that it can’t easily be “borne,” or carried. You feel wildly tempted to fulfill the hunger through ignoble means. Therefore,
I deem Myself what I would be—
And novel Comforting
My Poverty and I derive—
What can you do instead of thieving? You pretend, and “deem” yourself what you would be if you had the wealth you so desire. In some “novel” (new) way, you, with the help of your poverty, figure out some way to be comforted, (“My poverty and I derive”). That “novel Comforting” may be found in the sublimated fantasy.
The word “novel” here is especially good because reading a novel, like watching a Hollywood film, makes for a potent fantasy. Have I ever luxuriated in absurd wealth of language and society more than when I was reading Proust? Or how about "Middlemarch," which was Emily’s favorite novel?
We question if the Man
Who own Esteem the Opulence
As We Who never Can
Can the man who “owns” ever appreciate wealth as one can who lacks it? True appreciation comes from want. Ownership, and therefore possession itself, is here called into question.
Should ever these exploring Hands
Chance Sovereign on a Mine
I love how the hands of the impoverished poet are ever exploring here. That’s part of the play of fantasy, no? You are feeling the world. It might come to pass that these hands just so happen upon a mine. “Mine” has a double valence here, meaning both a “mine” of precious gems and minerals, and “mine” as in ownership. But notice that the hands here did not steal. Rather they “chance sovereign.” Macbeth could have waited for his chance to become king after the witches predicted he would be one, could have “chanced sovereign," but because of his ambition, he killed the good king and stole the crown. He turned thief and, consequently, paid dearly.
A recurring theme of Emily Dickinson’s poetry is that true wealth may best be found in poverty.
In this one she adds a wrinkle and admits to playing at riches.
I play at Riches—to appease
The Clamoring for Gold—
Playing at riches is like the welfare recipient who spends precious food money to play the lottery, and strikes it rich, but only in her fantasy.
There are so many ways to play at riches. I do it, for example, when I go to the theater to see a big blockbuster.
“Mothers of America/ Let your kids go to the movies!” wrote Frank O’hara in one of his best poems, Ave Maria. “They may even be grateful to you/ for their first sexual experience/ which only cost you a quarter/ and didn’t upset the peaceful home.”
And while we are invoking O’hara, how about these lines from his great poem, My Heart,
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar.
Recently I played at riches when I luxuriated in the lavish decor of Nia DaCosta’s film adaptation of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler, a scandalous update on Ibsen’s scandalous play. I wonder if Emily saw or read any of Ibsen’s plays? They were contemporaries. He was 2 years older than she was, but outlasted her by several. “Hedda Gabler” was written after she died, but she might have read “A Doll’s House” or any of a dozen others.
Fantasies fulfill us enough to keep us away from the kind of overwhelming deprivation that leads one to theft.
The poem continues,
It kept me from a Thief, I think,
For often, overbold
With Want, and Opportunity—
I could have done a Sin
And been Myself that easy Thing
An independent Man—
If you were to actually go after your fantasies, to pursue that billion, you would likely have to take it by force, no matter how subtle the means.
It is worth noting that Emily’s father was a land speculator. He was driven to do this in part to make up for the debts of his father. But it is also worth noting that Emily’s Grandfather went into debt for the sake of a cause, Amherst College, which he practically financed and built himself. Emily takes after her grandfather.
The idea here is that if you can allow yourself to fantasize and “play at riches,” then temptation will no longer be too great to resist. You have relieved the pressure enough to get through the greater temptation.
It reminds me of William Blake’s proverb, “Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.”
There’s another poem by Dickinson with a similar idea, Fr784, in which she says, "a Quick…Anonymous Delight…Consoles a Wo so monstrous/ That did it tear all Day,/ Without an instant’s Respite –/ “Twould look too far – to Die –” However, in that poem, unlike this one, there follows a stern warning about the dangers of becoming sated and falling asleep at the wheel.
The speaker of this poem is male, which ties this poem to the male gaze. If you want to “steal” the girl, which might mean anything from paying for her to something more sinister, that would be “easy.” That would be the domain of the “independent man.”
With the word “independent” we have a crux in this poem, the conflict the poem hinges on. To have the love of a woman (or man) it takes a certain kind of dependence. In other words, it takes being dependable, which in turn takes integrity. Integrity, as opposed to theft, is hard.
But often as my lot displays
Too hungry to be borne
A lack of love (“too hungry”) is something so difficult that it can’t easily be “borne,” or carried. You feel wildly tempted to fulfill the hunger through ignoble means. Therefore,
I deem Myself what I would be—
And novel Comforting
My Poverty and I derive—
What can you do instead of thieving? You pretend, and “deem” yourself what you would be if you had the wealth you so desire. In some “novel” (new) way, you, with the help of your poverty, figure out some way to be comforted, (“My poverty and I derive”). That “novel Comforting” may be found in the sublimated fantasy.
The word “novel” here is especially good because reading a novel, like watching a Hollywood film, makes for a potent fantasy. Have I ever luxuriated in absurd wealth of language and society more than when I was reading Proust? Or how about "Middlemarch," which was Emily’s favorite novel?
We question if the Man
Who own Esteem the Opulence
As We Who never Can
Can the man who “owns” ever appreciate wealth as one can who lacks it? True appreciation comes from want. Ownership, and therefore possession itself, is here called into question.
Should ever these exploring Hands
Chance Sovereign on a Mine
I love how the hands of the impoverished poet are ever exploring here. That’s part of the play of fantasy, no? You are feeling the world. It might come to pass that these hands just so happen upon a mine. “Mine” has a double valence here, meaning both a “mine” of precious gems and minerals, and “mine” as in ownership. But notice that the hands here did not steal. Rather they “chance sovereign.” Macbeth could have waited for his chance to become king after the witches predicted he would be one, could have “chanced sovereign," but because of his ambition, he killed the good king and stole the crown. He turned thief and, consequently, paid dearly.
Or in the long uneven term
To win, become their turn
To win, become their turn
“The long uneven term” is the term of life itself. In this long uneven term you win some and you lose some, as my father was fond of saying. Sometimes it is your turn to win. When that happens, if it happens of its own accord, you will fully appreciate it because of your poverty. That it’s why fasting is such a powerful practice. Hunger is the best spice, as they say.
How fitter they will be for Want
If you fully inhabit your lack, then when it is your time to have plenty you won’t be jaded. It is only the thief that has everything who becomes jaded.
In preparation for Emerald Fennell’s upcoming film, “Wuthering Heights,” I went back and watched her film “Saltburn.” I enjoyed the fantasy in it, playing at riches. But it also sickingly portrays how terribly meaningless great wealth becomes to the jaded rich.
Or how about Joyce Carol Oates’ recent tweet about Elon Musk?
"So curious that such a wealthy man never posts anything that indicates that he enjoys or is even aware of what virtually everyone appreciates— scenes from nature, pet dog or cat, praise for a movie, music, a book; pride in a friend’s or relative’s accomplishment; condolences for someone who has died; pleasure in sports, acclaim for a favorite team; references to history. In fact he seems uncultured. The poorest persons on Twitter may have access to more beauty & meaning in life than the most wealthy person in the world."
(By the way Joyce Carol Oates has her own Emily Dickinson selected on the market. I sat in a bookstore in an airport once and read the entire introduction. It was terrific.)
The poem goes on stating that our deprivation…
Enlightening so well
I know not which, Desire, or Grant
Be wholly beautiful
Desire and grant are so inextricably tied to one another it is hard to say which of the two is wholly beautiful. The idea here is, I think, that they are only whole, wholly beautiful, together. Wanting makes the granting beautiful. And the granting, on the flip side, relieves want.
-/)dam Wade l)eGraff
Tessa Thompson as Hedda Gabler, playing at riches
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