From Rachel Wetzsteon’s introduction to The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson, writing to the editor Thomas Wentworth Higginson in July 1862, reported that she had no portrait,” but offered the following description in place of one: Small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Burand my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leavesWould this do just as well?” (Selected Letters, edited by Thomas H. Johnson, p. 175; see For Further Reading”). Despite Dickinson’s claim, we do possess one photograph of hera daguerreotype taken in 1847 or 1848, when she was in her late teens. The image certainly confirms her self-portrait: Her frame is tiny; her shiny hair does indeed sit boldly atop her head; and her dark eyes really do glisten like liquor at the bottom of a glass.
The photograph also suggests many of the rich puzzles and paradoxes that have informed our view of Dickinson since the last decade of the nineteenth century, when readers and critics began to read, study, and obsess over her poems. Dickinson’s body, with its delicate hands and slender torso, may resemble the fragile form of someone too weak to venture far from home; but her huge moist eyes stare at us with the wisdom, depth, and longing of a woman who has traveled around the world and come back with stories, not all of them fit for mixed company. She demurely clutches a bouquet of flowers, and a book rests primly at her side; but her full, sensuous lips reveal a person whose thoughts may not always tend toward such tidy subjects as flowers and books. We look away from the photograph intrigued and stirred: What’s going on in her mind? How could this slight figure be the author of some of the most passionate love poems, the most searing descriptions of loss, the most haunting religious lyrics ever written?
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, on December 10, 1830, the middle child of Edward and Emily Norcross Dickinson; her brother, Austin, was born in 1829 and her sister, Lavinia, in 1833. Her father, a lawyer, served as treasurer of Amherst College (her grandfather was a co-founder of the college), and also occupied important positions on the General Court of Massachusetts, the Massachusetts State Senate, and the United States House of Representatives. His Heart,” Dickinson wrote in a letter, was pure and terrible and I think no other like it exists” (Letters, p. 223). He was strictly religious (something she would later rebel against), leading the family prayers every day and often censoring her reading; but he also ensured that Dickinson grew up in a household surrounded by books and heated intellectual debates. Her mother was a more shadowy presence; Dickinson wrote that she does not care for thought” (Letters, p. 173); more harshly, she claimed, I never had a mother. I suppose a mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled” (Letters, vol. 2, p. 475). Even so, the Dickinsons remained an extremely close-knit family; after her brother, Austin, married, he and his wife settled right next door.
Dickinson attended the coeducational Amherst Academy from the ages of ten to seventeen, and then went on to the Mount Holyoke Female Seminary (now Mount Holyoke College) in nearby South Hadley. She blossomed there into a social and spirited young woman. The most significant event of her stay occurred at a fundamentalist Calvinist revival meeting, when she was asked to stand and declare herself a Christian and refused. After one year at Mount Holyoke she returned in 1948 to Amherst, where she remained, apart from brief trips to Boston, Cambridge, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C., for the rest of her life.
At school and at home, Dickinson received an excellent education. At the Amherst Academy alone she studied the arts, English literature, rhetoric, philosophy, Latin, French, German, history, geography, classics, and the Bible; she also received a firm grounding in the sciences, mathematics, geology, botany, natural history, physiology, and astronomy. At home the Dickinsons’ large and varied library included books by Hawthorne, Emerson, Thoreau, Longfellow, Shakespeare, Keats, the Brownings, the Brontës, and George Eliot, along with Noah Webster’s An American Dictionary of the English Languagewhich for Dickinson would prove one of the most important books of alland a healthy dose of newspapers and romance novels.
During her early twenties, Dickinson began to dress in white, to leave her house only on rare occasions, and to restrict the circle of her acquaintances until it numbered just a few people. Often speaking to visitors through a screen or from an adjoining room, she soon developed a reputation as a town eccentric. The young Mabel Loomis Todd, having recently moved to Amherst with her husband, David, remarked in a letter to her parents about a strange resident:
I must tell you about the character of Amherst. It is a lady whom all the people call the Myth. She is a sister of Mr. Dickinson, & seems to be the climax of all the family oddity. She has not been outside her house in fifteen years, except once to see a new church, when she crept out at night, & viewed it by moonlight. No one who calls upon her mother & sister ever sees her, but she allows little children once in a great while, & one at a time, to come in, when she gives them cake or candy, or some nicety, for she is very fond of little ones. But more often she lets down the sweetmeat by a string, out of a window, to them. She dresses wholly in white, & her mind is said to be perfectly wonderful. She writes finely, but no one ever sees her. Her sister . . . invited me to come & sing to her mother sometime. . . . People tell me the myth will hear every noteshe will be near, but unseen. . . . Isn’t that like a book? So interesting (Farr, Emily Dickinson: A Collection of Critical Essays, p. 20).
One can hardly blame Todd for being fascinated by such an unusual character.” But unfortunately, the myth” she takes such pleasure in describing influenced our later notions of Dickinson much too heavily. Despite her seclusion, a large number of prominent figures came and went through her house. She also developed deep, though largely epistolary, friendships with several people: the clergyman Charles Wadsworth, whom she met in Philadelphia and described as her dearest earthly friend”; Samuel Bowles, editor of the Springfield Republican; and Judge Otis Phillips Lord of Salem, Massachusetts.
This a generous and well considered collection. As a 50yr student of dear Emily's work, my argument with some of the editor's decisions as to typography, would be irrelevant to... Read morePublished 6 days ago by Spar Harmon
I read this to my daughter every night before bed and now she's just as addicted as me.Published 1 month ago by San Diego Guy
It's a bio in the front of the book that I could do without. I love the poems though. Emily Dickerson in my opinion is brilliant.Published 2 months ago by Theresa Sky
I've been an Dickinson fan since high school. Solid collection of some timeless poetry.Published 2 months ago by Scott
I enjoy the simplicity of her imagery. Makes for thought-provoking reading when I just want to take in a few short poems. Read morePublished 3 months ago by MarthaP
Loved this book of poems. Some are deep and some are just actually the work of a genius.Published 4 months ago by Kay
absolutely marvelous as if she is reading my mind and expressing my feelings.Published 9 months ago by Osama M. Ettouney
One of my favorite poets. Once I read this, will be donating to a local high school : )Published 11 months ago by Suzann @ Work Smarter Now
She's my favorite poet. This is the reason why I bought the book. I have read other collections of Dickinson's poems before, and I bought this one to finally own one. Read morePublished 15 months ago by Guerdon