"Because I could not stop for Death-
He kindly stopped for me-
The Carriage held but just Ourselves-
And Immortality."
-Because I could not stop for Death
by Emily Dickinson
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was one of those unfortunate souls who would never be appreciated in her lifetime, as is and was so often the case with those creative minds who are ahead of their time.
Emily was born in Massachusetts, on December 30th, 1830, into a prominent, if not particularly wealthy, family. Her father, Edward, was a well-respected lawyer in Amherst, as well as a trustee at Amherst college, so the family knew little of hardships relating to money.
Emily was noted to be a 'well-behaved' child, who had an affinity for music, and usually kept out of trouble. Her Aunt Lavinia noted that she was 'perfectly well and contented'.
Emily's father was very interested in his children's education, and pushed for a classical approach, so that his children were very much well rounded. Even when he was not home, he would often write to them and remind them to keep up with their schoolwork so they could tell him what they learned when he returned.
On December 7, 1840, Emily and her sister Lavinia enrolled in the Amherst Academy, an unusual school for them to attend, as it was a boys-only school until about 2 years earlier.
Around that same time, Emily's father bought a house on Pleasant Street, which became Emily and her brother, William's, favorite playing ground, pretending to be the Lord and Lady of the house (or as they called it, the mansion) while their parents were away.
Emily highly enjoyed her years in Amherst Academy, making many lifelong friends, and flourishing in the robust academic environment. She took as many classes as she could manage, and took very little time away from school, only during times of illness. That is, until tragedy struck in 1844.
Sophia Holland was a cousin, and very close friend to Emily. So when she contracted typhus in early 1844 and died, Emily was traumatized. Her experience with death, until that point, had been limited, and she had a difficult time processing the bitter truth behind it. Later, when she spoke about her friend's death, she said that "it seemed to me that I should die too if I could not be permitted to watch over her or even look at her face". Remember, she was only fourteen at this time, and to her, this was the hardest thing she had ever gone through. Her depression became so bad, that her parents sent her to Boston for a while to cheer her up.
Not long after her return, in 1845, Amherst Academy went through a spiritual revival, where students were coming out in droves to confess their sins and be saved into the Kingdom of Heaven. Emily herself found peace in the idea that she could pray at any time, and there was a God on the other side listening to her. While many of her fellow students were confessing and joining the church, Emily's new found excitement for the faith wore off, and she stopped attending service. She had never made a formal declaration of her sins, and never joined any denomination of the church. She did not give up her religion, but it didn't fit in with the religious ideals of the day. She was known to have written "Some keep the Sabbath going to Church/I keep it, staying at Home," suggesting that she still believed in God, but didn't feel like she belonged in the church, making her somewhat of an odd character. Shortly before she graduated from Amherst, she befriended the young, new principle of the school, Leonard Humphrey, who was not only a friend to her, but a mentor as well. She looked up to him, and admired him greatly.
After finishing school at the Amherst Academy on August 10th, 1847, Emily moved on to Mary Lyon's Mount Holyoke Female Seminary, but she never finished there. After only 10 months at the school, she returned home. Nobody is quite sure what made her decide to leave the school, some say it had to do with the very religious fervor at the school, which she disliked, some say it was because she was in low spirits and poor health, or perhaps she was simply homesick. Whatever the reason, Emily returned to her family home on Pleasant Street on March 25th, 1848. Back at home, Emily settled into a normal routine, learning how to bake and enjoying the social aspect of the growing college town.
At 18, Emily's family befriended a young man named Benjamin Franklin Newton. Emily looked up to him, and he greatly encouraged her as a writer and poet, introducing her to Wordsworth and Emerson. Newton believed in Emily, and told her as much. When he contracted tuberculosis, he wrote to her and told her that he only wanted to live long enough to see her realize her own potential, which he never did.
Emily began to find herself in a pool of excellent literature, and her family continued to encourage her, although her brother would sneak in works that they thought their father would not approve of. One of the works that are supposed to have influenced her greatly is Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. I believe it probably did, as she probably related strongly to the protagonist of the story, having lost a friend so young, and seeing the world as she did.
Early 1850 found Emily enjoying life. She spent time at social gatherings, enjoying her youth and her friends as she should. But her joviality wasn't to last long. When she heard that her beloved friend and teacher, Leonard Humphrey, had died suddenly of 'brain congestion', she was sent into a spiraling depression that she had a hard time getting out of. She later told a friend that she could not brush away her tears and 'would not if [she] could, for they are the only tribute [she] can pay the departed Humphrey'.
During the next many years, Emily became closest of friends with her sister-in-law, Susan Gilbert. Susan was married to William Dickinson, and they lived next door to the Dickinson's home. During their lifetime, there were over 300 letters sent from Emily to Susan. Susan was not particularly happy, being married to William, this may have been due in part to the fact that William had a mistress, who spoke poorly of Susan, claiming that Emily and Susan's friendship was very one-sided, and that Susan was a hard woman to get along with. Susan's children, however, claim that this isn't' true, and it's likely that the mistress was merely speaking out of jealousy.
Whatever the case my be, Emily referred to Susan as her 'muse' on occasion, and Susan was one of those instrumental in encouraging the blossoming young poet. Emily probably did have a fear of loosing her dearest friend, after having lost so many of her close friends already, but whether this was due to her unfounded fears, or because Susan was distant is only speculation.
In the Spring of 1855, Emily and her family went to Washington D.C, where her family was representing their home state in Congress. After that, they went to Philadelphia for a few weeks to visit with family. While there, Emily met the famous clergyman, Charles Wadsworth, whom she formed an eternal attachment to. She referred to him as 'my dearest earthly friend' until her death, even though she only saw him twice more after leaving Philadelphia. This trip was the furthest Emily would ever stray from her home, fondly named 'The Homestead'.
In the mid 1850s, Emily's mother's health began a steady decline. One of the two daughters would always stay with her until her death in the late 1800s, and Lavinia later pointed out that it always seemed to be Emily. Emily found that the life of a recluse, staying in her home and writing all the time, suited her just fine, and so she adopted the lifestyle permanently. Perhaps it was her way of coping, as she really could't leave, as her mother needed constant attending, and she was afraid her father would miss her if he came home and she was gone. Ever dutiful, thus began Emily's seclusion.
In 1858, Emily began to edit the poetry she had already written. Her 40 or so poems eventually turned into somewhere around 800 poems, and none of her family was aware of them until after her death. It was during this time, that Emily was unknowingly creating her legacy.
Emily befriended a man named Samuel Bowles towards the end of the 1850s. It was he who was able to publish some of her work in his magazine. During this era, Emily was known to have written three letters, referred to now as the Master Letters, to an unknown man only ever named Master. To this day, nobody knows for sure who these letters were intended for, although the mystery surrounding these letters are perhaps one of the most alluring things about her.
The letters could have many meanings. Quite a few of the lines written could be a reference to God, or to a man who she loved. It's difficult to say, as the word 'Master' could have so many meanings in this situation. Perhaps she had a secret relationship with one of the men she wrote to often, particularly the religious man Charles Wadsworth. It's interesting to note that she had a lasting attachment to a man whom she was known to have seen so infrequently. Perhaps she fell in love with him? Perhaps they had an affair that nobody ever knew about? Or perhaps, she never sent the letters because the intended recipient was unaware of her affections. While some people believe that she was writing to God, because of lines such as "I heard of a thing called 'Redemption'-which rested men and women-You remember I asked you for it-you gave me something else-I forgot the redemption". Personally, this line sounds more like something a young girl might say of a clergyman who she supposedly asked 'for redemption' and she got 'something else'. There's another line, which leads me to believe it's not a letter intended for God, which says "You ask me what my flowers said-then they were disobedient-I gave them messages," which to me sounds less like a reference to flowers and more like a reference to her 'forbidden fruits' so to speak, although it could have been referencing her garden, which she was fond of and well known for. To me though, it sounds like a sneaky innuendo, as so many of the lines do. Many of the lines, which could have been something referencing to a holy God, or to a man who teaches of God, which could easily have been Wadsworth. Whatever the case may be, the secret died with Emily, as the letters were never sent or postmarked.
In the early 1860s, Emily was more productive as a poet than at any other time in her life. While she was diagnosed with 'nervous prostration' during her lifetime, there's a chance that there was some other illness that kept her secluded, other than just a deep desire to attend to her ailing mother. Some scholars believe she might have been suffering from depression, which would explain her hiding away from society, or perhaps having agoraphobia, which is a condition where the person suffers from extreme anxiety over things like cramped, public spaces, which results in a panic attack anytime the person is confronted with their particular fear, and can sometimes drive a person into hiding from the thing that triggers the attack. People who tend to have agoraphobia are often triggered by the death of a loved one, or have some sort of major depressive symptoms. It is usually caused by an environmental issue, or some believe it to be hereditary. Perhaps this is one of the reasons that Emily's mother also became reclusive. Although I don't think Emily always had agoraphobia, if she had it at all. It's my belief that Emily was extremely depressed, and her seclusion only made it worse, which was the source of her deep, heart-felt and often very dark poetry. It is now believed that creative souls, like Emily, are known to feel things more deeply, and suffer from a wider variety of mood swings and depressions than other people, which is why their work is so affecting to most people.
In early 1862, Emily read a piece in the Atlantic Monthly by a man named Thomas Wentworth Higginson. In his article, he urged young writers to bring their work to life in publication. Emily had already been debating publishing her work, so she wrote Higginson a letter, asking him to read some of her poems and tell her what he thought. He responded that she ought to write a little longer first, but that he enjoyed her work thoroughly, and the two began to correspond. Emily tended to be overly-dramatic in her letters to him, emphasizing her solitary nature, and describing herself in her own, very poetic way. Emily, to me, seemed like a very lonely woman who was very depressed often, being left with her mother who didn't seem to be her favorite person, and was more than a little excited when she found another person who would talk to her.
While Higginson stopped pushing her to publish early on, he continued to write to her, and by the end of her life, she considered him another of her 'dear friends'. It's likely that with enough encouragement, Emily probably would have gone on to get her work published, but nobody seemed to have the time to push her hard enough.
By 1866, the creative flow ebbed to a near standstill. Between the loss of her constant companion, Carlo, her 16 year old dog, and the loss of their maid, Emily had little time or willpower to write. While a little agony is good for a creative creature, the depression that followed the loss of her beloved animal crushed her for the time. And besides that, she was now the sole care taker in the house, taking all the chores and baking on herself. The family didn't rehire another helper until 1869, so during those years, Emily had little time to herself.
Emily was becoming somewhat of a local mystery. She stopped receiving callers almost all together, and even when people did come to talk to her, she would stand on the opposite side of the door, and very few people saw her face to face anymore. She became an enigma, a woman in white, known only as a strange woman who always wore stark, white dresses, and never showed her face.
At least to adults. To the children who knew her, like her nieces and nephews, she was as warm and inviting as ever, an indulgent aunt to the end. She was a great supporter of the neighborhood children at every turn; she loved the children as much as she shied away from the adults.
In 1868, Higginson begged Emily to come to Boston so that they might finally meet in person. She was a dramatic, interesting person in her letters, and he wanted to meet the woman who so eloquently penned them. She denied him however, and instead told him he might come to Amherst, because she did not "cross [her] Father's ground to any house or town."
Higginson obliged her in 1870, and came to her home. He found the situation extremely uncomfortable, as he met with the small, plain woman in a starkly white gown. He was, according to his own words, never "with anyone who drained my nerve power so much. Without touching her, she drew from me." He also said he was glad that he didn't live anywhere near her.
Even though Emily was passionate about poetry, she was more well known for her gardening skills. While in school, she had taken a particular interest in botany, and classified hundreds of pressed flowers of her own. She would often send her friends a poem tied to the stem of her flowers, although she suspected that her friends liked the flowers better than the verse. Perhaps her seclusion was bearable because the Homestead was known for miles as having the best garden there was to be seen, due greatly to her own work.
Sometime between 1872 and 73, Emily made a new friend; the honorable judge of the Massachusetts Supreme Court; Phillips Lord. He was an older gentleman, but he wrote to Emily anyway, although much of their letters between each other were destroyed. In him, Emily began to find a kindred spirit, at least as far as literature is concerned. Their few surviving letters has them sending excerpts from Shakespeare and other similar works back and forth to each other.
In June of 1874, Emily's father was in Boston when he had a massive stroke and died. His funeral and memorial were both held in their home, but Emily hid in her bedroom the entire time, her door cracked so she could listen to the goings-on.
Shortly after, her mother also had a stroke, but it didn't kill her. Instead, it left her half paralyzed and damaged her brain, so she was left with only fragments of her memory. Now, Emily and Lavinia, her unmarried sister who lived at home until her own death, began taking care of her mother who was not only ill, but mentally, she wasn't all together there.
In 1877, Phillips Lord's wife died. Lord and Emily began writing each other religiously, every week. While no one knows for sure, as their letters are lost, many believe that Lord and Emily began a romance through these letters, but it was short lived, as he was extremely ill, and died in March of 1884, shortly after the death of Emily's beloved friend, Charles Wadsworth, whom she referred to as her 'Shepard from 'Little Girl'hood' (again, this could have been a reference to him merely being a friend, or of him bringing her into womanhood, and thus being the 'Master' in her letters).
Emily continued to write her poetry, although she stopped editing or organizing it as the 1880s wore on, assuming that she was tired of trying. Her brother, William, and his wife, Emily's friend Susan, were growing further and further apart, and he met the wife of a man who worked at the college. Mabel Todd became William's affair, which only served to push Susan further away, and estrange William from the rest of the family. While Mabel never met Emily, she was especially intrigued with the woman that she heard the rest of the town calling a 'Myth'.
In November of 1882, Emily's mother finally died. While Emily never held any affections for her in her early life, she found a strange connection as she became her caretaker, the role of child and mother being reversed.
The following year, William and Susan's youngest child, Gilbert, was killed by typhoid fever. Gilbert had been a particular favorite of Emily's.
As death after death began to pile up, it took a heavy toll on the bleeding heart poet. She felt that she hadn't been able to recover from one death before another came creeping up, leaving her spinning and unable to catch her breath.
The following summer, Emily said she felt a great darkness coming, and was found passed out on the floor of the kitchen one afternoon. She remained unconscious for several hours, late into the night, and when she finally awoke, she was declining quickly.
Weeks of bedrest and feebleness followed, leaving Emily a mere shell of the already strange woman she was. Her siblings became frightened as she continued to grow worse, and William cancelled a trip away because he was afraid of loosing her.
While sick, she did little, until she was able to write a final burst of letters, shortly before her death. Then, her symptoms grew worse, and all knew things were bleak.
On May 15th, 1886, Emily died in her bed. Afterwards, her doctor examined her and pronounced the cause of death to be Bright's Disease, which in modern times is called chronic nephritis. William said later that "the day was awful".
Ever one for dramatics, it was only fitting that Emily's funeral was as odd as she was. Her coffin was white, fitting for the Lady in White, and she was surrounded by vanilla-scented heliotropes, a Lady's Slipper, and a bunch of blue field violets. Higginson came to her funeral, and read No Coward Soul Is Mine by Emily Bronte. Though he found her a little strange in real life, he knew her well from their letters, and he knew it was one of her favorites.
By Emily's own request, she was not driven, but rather carried to the cemetery through a sunny, yellow field of buttercups, before they laid her in her final resting place in the family cemetery.
Although Emily tried to make Lavinia swear she would burn all her work after she died, she refused. When she was going through Emily's things after her death, she found almost 1800 poems, and just four years after Emily's death, Lavinia had them published. Emily's work was always very edited and changed when in publication until Thomas H. Johnson got a hold of them in 1955, and published her work as she always intended it to be; sad, heart-wrenching, and full of emotion. Since 1890, her work has been constantly in print.
Emily Dickinson was a contemporary to her time. Her world views and ideas didn't match up with the other people of her day. Her life was full of death, although perhaps not more than anyone else's, but she saw things differently. To her, each person she lost was not just the loss of a human on earth, but of a soul that she loved deeply and dearly, perhaps more than other people.
It is said that creative people view the world differently, and I honestly believe that is true. You must only look at the lives of people like Emily, or Vincent VanGough, or Jane Austen to see that the most creative among us are cut from a different cloth. You cannot write or paint or create things that seem so deeply thought out, and so keenly felt, without having a heart and soul that deeply sees and feels. It makes for a difficult, and often very lonely, life, but without them, we would not have such a deep understanding of the human soul, or of beauty itself.
Emily Dickinson never experienced fame in her lifetime, at least not for her poetry, but she did have her fair share of infamy for her odd behavior, and she has been immortalized by her own hand, which is all that any poet or writer can ask for out of the world.
Cheers!
Series: Famous Authors, Throwback Thursdays, Famous Poets
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