Month: October 2025

No Other can reduce Our
Mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it be Nought –
A Period from hence –

But Contemplation for
Cotemporaneous Nought
Our Mutual Fame – that haply
Jehovah – recollect –

No Other can exalt Our
Mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it exist –
A Period from hence –

Invited from Itself
To the Creator’s House –
To tarry an Eternity –
His – shortest Consciousness –

To begin, ED composed three variants of F738 (A, B, C). DeGraff (2024) presents Variant A, and Johnson (1955) and Franklin (1999) published Variant B, which is the version she sent Sue in 1865. Here are the three variants for comparison:

Variant A    Second half 1863    Fascicle 36

No Other can reduce Our
Mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it be Nought –
A Period from hence –

But Contemplation for
Cotemporaneous Nought –
Our Mutual Fame – that haply
Jehovah – recollect –

No Other can exalt (reduce) Our
Mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it exist –
A period from hence –

Invited from Itself
To the Creator’s House –
To tarry an Eternity –
His – shortest Consciousness –

Variant B  1865  To Sue

“No Other can reduce
Our Mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it be Nought (exist) –
A Period from hence –
But Contemplation for
Cotemporaneous Nought –
Our only competition
Jehovah’s estimate

Emily”

Variant C   1865

No other can reduce
Our mortal Consequence
Like the remembering it be nought
A period from hence
But Contemplation for
Cotemporaneous nought (Nought)-
Our mutual fame, that haply   (Our only Competition)
Jehovah recollect   (Jehovah’s Estimate)

Franklin (1998) suggested that “The placement of “Our” at the end of line 1 [in Variant A] may have been a copying error [by ED], not repeated thereafter [in Variants B & C]”.

ED’s Line 2 in all variants (including emended Variant A), “Our Mortal Consequence”, can be read at least two ways, as her poems or as her soul. ED posits her poems may amount to “Nought – / A Period from hence”, but there’s nothing coy about ED suggesting God might disagree: “Our only competition / Jehovah’s estimate”. On occasion, ED feigned she did not care about fame, but this poem (Variant B) belies her posturing. She really hoped she had Jehovah on her side, and she did.

As to “Our Mortal Consequence”, that could mean her poems (mortal consequence = extant poems), or capitalized “Mortal Consequence” may mean her soul, what’s left over after her physical body rots in Amherst’s West Cemetery. ED seems to care more about her poems’ immortality than about her soul’s, so my vote is that “Our Mortal Consequence” means her poems.

In 2022, Christiane Miller published a 3-paragraph history of ED’s editing of ‘No Other can reduce’ in her ‘Oxford Handbook of Emily Dickinson’ (excerpt from Page 226):

“Dickinson copied “No Other can reduce Our / Mortal Consequence” (M370 and M462, Fr738, J982) around the second half of 1863 and included it in a fascicle now numbered 36. Around 1865, she sent the first two stanzas of this four-stanza poem to Susan, without contextualizing comment, rewriting the last two lines of the second stanza and moving “Our” from the end of line 1 to the beginning of line 2, making a more conventionally metrical opening. In this version, lines 7–8 read: “Our single Competition / Jehovah’s Estimate.” In the fascicle copy, they read: “Our Mutual Fame – that haply / Jehovah – recollect –”.

“This poem is particularly interesting because around the time she sent two stanzas to Susan, Dickinson made a second fair copy to retain, which—like the version to Susan—both included only the first two stanzas and altered the line break in the opening lines (M 462). This copy maintained the fascicle version of lines 7–8 (with different capitalization and punctuation) but included the final lines sent to Susan as alternatives, slightly revised, below a long, drawn line. In this version, the poem ends: “Our mutual fame, that haply / Jehovah recollect [line across the page] Our only Competition / Jehovah’s Estimate.” (see Figure 13.1).

“No Other can reduce Our” was completed as a poem, without alternatives and apparently without thought of a specific audience, before it was circulated—as Franklin’s numbering indicates (Fr738A). When Dickinson returned to the poem around two years later, it is unclear whether she first rewrote it to retain, with an imagined alternative, or first sent a revised version to Susan, then revised it again, keeping the (slightly altered) version circulated as part of her record.

Characteristically, Franklin lists the copy sent to Susan as 738B and the unbound sheet (“Set”) copy as 738C. If Dickinson made the unbound sheet copy before sending the stanzas to Susan, it could imply that the version circulated was her final word on the poem, or that the copy to Susan constituted one manifestation of what she might do with the now-revised poem. If the circulated version came first, then it indeed might have been a trial run, as Franklin surmises, but in this case the trial led to no decisive conclusion and even its alternative lines were revised for retention.”

• Cristanne Miller. 2022. Writing for Posterity: Editing, Evidence, and Sequence in Dickinson’s Composition and Circulation of Poems, pp. 217-234 [in] Miller, Cristanne; Sánchez-Eppler, Karen, Eds. ‘The Oxford Handbook of Emily Dickinson’, Oxford University Press, Kindle Edition.

In his ‘Notes on Emily Dickinsons’ poems’ (no longer available on the web), David Preest informed us “This stanza [Stanza 1, Variant A], gloomily stating that ‘No Other [thing] can reduce/our mortal Consequence’ like knowing that soon we shall not exist,’ was in the original version of the poem the first of a pair of stanzas of eight lines each {Preest errs, Variant A manuscript is four quatrains]. The second stanza triumphantly proclaimed that ‘No other [thing] can exalt/our mortal Consequence’ like the belief that we shall exist again. Emily’s final version, two years later, omitted the second stanza.”

I much prefer ED’s four-quatrain Variant A because of its contrast between Stanzas 1-2 and Stanzas 3-4. It tells a more complete story than Variants B or C.

I many times thought Peace had come
When Peace was far away —
As Wrecked Men — deem they sight the Land —
At Centre of the Sea —

And struggle slacker — but to prove
As hopelessly as I —
How many the fictitious Shores —
Before the Harbor be —[Variant B]  (Or any Harbor be – [Variant A])

ED sometimes wrote two variants of a poem for different audiences. She copied this poem with the “pessimist” last line, “Or any Harbor be” (Variant A), into Fascicle 35 but added the optimistic alternative, “Before the Harbor be –” (Variant B) beside the poem. Editors who present the optimistic variation include Todd (1891), Johnson (1955), Bianchi (1960), and DeGraff (2024, above). Franklin (1999) and Miller (2024) chose the pessimistic variation. ED certainly knew what she was doing when she added the alternative.

Perhaps she was leaving the door open to accommodate her mood du jour. Or perhaps, in modern parlance, ED described her bipolar cycles. How many times did she see a mirage of “Shores” or “Harbor” in a mental storm, only to drown in another maelstrom of depression? Or F737 may describe the painful disintegration of ED and Sue’s teenage infatuation. When Ed wrote this poem in 1863, their differences were unresolved and they remained that way [brackets mine]:

“After a quarter century’s intimacy [1850-1875] with Sue, Emily sent her ‘What mystery pervades a well!’, F1433, 1877] across the stretch of lawn between their homes. . . . In the end, [ED] identified the one vast attribute her earthly idol [Sue] shared with the harsh, judgmental, patriarchal God [whom ED] had rejected. Both were unknowable” (Longsworth 1984).

“But Susan is a Stranger yet
The Ones who cite her most
Have never scaled her Haunted House
Nor compromised her Ghost-

To pity those who know her not
Is helped by the regret
That those who know her know her less
The nearer her they get”

Fr1433

• Longsworth, Polly. 1984. Austin and Mabel. University of Massachusetts Press. Paperback edition. 1999

ED’s alternate word in parentheses

You said that I “was Great” — one Day —
Then “Great” it be — if that please Thee —
Or Small — or any size at all —
Nay — I’m the size suit Thee —

Tall — like the Stag — would that?
Or lower — like the Wren —
Or other heights of Other Ones
I’ve seen?

Tell which — it’s dull to guess —
And I must be Rhinoceros
Or Mouse —
At once — for Thee —

So say — if Queen it be —
Or Page — please Thee —
I’m that — or nought —
Or other thing — if other thing there be —
With just this Stipulus (Reservation)—
I suit Thee —

This poem can be read as happy, sad, funny, serious, angry, begging, imperative, and/or combinations of the above. Ambiguity, thy name is ED.

It could be a funny Valentine for a couple in the throes of infatuation or a silly Valentine for an older couple with a shared sense of humor. It could be a begging poem from a needy codependent in an unrequited relationship or a disguised demand from a dissatisfied, dominatrix. Or it could be a clever but barbed swipe at a married member of an imaginary ménage à trois from an abandoned lover who happens to be a world-class wordsmith.

A simple complement in a mixed-motive dyad can be interpreted in so many ways, particularly if both carry deep scars from childhood. When ED protests, “When I state myself, as the Representative of the Verse – it does not mean – me – but a supposed person” (L268 → L345), I take it with a grain of salt.

This poem tracks with a few other poems in Fascicle 35 in which Dickinson wonders why an unnamed friend is withholding their smile.” Both her premier biographer, Sewall (1974), and an insightful Ph.D. student, Murray (1988), commented on ED feeling rejected:

Sewall (1974) posited

“Throughout her life, she never achieved a single, wholly satisfying relationship with anybody she had to be near, or with, for any length of time. . . . . As for Emily’s correspondents, affectionate as she might have been in her letters, they were always at a safe distance.

“The reason seems not far to seek. All her life she demanded too much of people. Her early girlfriends could hardly keep up with her tumultuous letters or, like Sue, could not or would not take her into their lives as she wanted to be taken.”

Similarly, Murray (1988) observes,

“Dickinson established a traceable pattern of behavior in her girlhood friendships that she continued into the relationships of her adult life. When she discovered a person who potentially shared her feelings about a certain subject, she responded with surprise, enthusiasm, and selfishness. . . . In Dickinson’s pattern, after initial discovery, the friendship would blossom and grow, fueled by a great profusion of letters sharing confidences, feelings, and ideas. In these letters, she engaged her fertile imagination, savoring the kinship that she perceived between her and the kindred spirit she believed she had found.

“The friend, at some point following the relationship’s blossoming, realized that he or she could not reciprocate with the same ardor, frequency, or depth of feeling as Emily, to meet the poet’s intense emotional, spiritual, or intellectual needs. The friend then usually withdrew, withholding contact from her. Dickinson, then perceiving the slackening on the friend’s part, sought in letters to renew the friendship through chiding and wheedling. When these attempts failed to secure the desired results, she decided that the slowing of the friendship had occurred because of the friend’s disloyalty and betrayal, and she cooled in her once-passionate feelings for the friend. In most cases, correspondence stopped. And she opened once again the lid to what she called her “box of Phantoms” and put away another friend.” (Murray 1988).

PS. ED coined her phrase, “Box of Phantoms”, in two letters, M&M / L181 and M&M / L185.

Apropos? A letter comment by ED, age 29, about being “great” (L244. To Louisa Norcross, a close, lifelong friend, December 20, 1859):
. . . . .
“I have known little of you, since the October morning when our families went out driving, and you and I in the dining room decided to be distinguished. It’s a great thing to be “great” Loo, and you and I might tug for a life, and never accomplish it, but no one can stop our looking, but the orchard is full of birds and we all can listen.”
. . . .
Emily

• Cristanne Miller and Domhnall Mitchell.2024. The Letters of Emily Dickinson. Harvard University Press. Kindle Edition.
• Sewall, Richard B. 1974. The Life of Emily Dickinson. 2 vols. New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux
• Murray, Barbara M. 1988. The scarlet experiment: Emily Dickinson’s abortion experience. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Tennessee. 391 pages. (https://www.proquest.com/openview/0eecb3a583e119ca3a94cde080a874d1/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=18750&diss=y )

 

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago —
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below —

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde —
Her Cheek — a Beryl hewn —
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known —

Her Lips of Amber never part —
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer (bestow)
Were such Her Silver Will —

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star —
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace (twinkling, glimmering) Door —

Her Bonnet is the Firmament —
The Universe (Valleys) — (are) Her Shoe —
The Stars — the Trinkets at Her Belt —
Her Dimities — of Blue —

 

ED probably intended 19th century comic relief with that last line, “Her Dimities – of Blue – ”. That’s the tone of Gilbert and Sullivan’s chorus in their comic opera, ‘Pirates of Penzance’, which débuted in New York City in 1879, seventeen years after ED composed this poem:

Male chorus: “Pray observe the magnanimity / We display to lace and dimity!”

Response of female chorus: “Pray observe the magnanimity / They display to lace and dimity!”

I say “comic relief” because this poem doesn’t feel to me like a “what you see is what you get” poem.

‘The Moon was but a Chin of Gold’ (Fr735, 1863) is probably not about The “perfect Face” of the Woman in the Moon, AKA Sue. Rather, it may be a snapshot of a disintegrating teenage infatuation between ED and Susan Gilbert Dickinson (*). Stanzas 3 and 4 of ‘The Moon was but a Chin of Gold’ beg sadly for what the poet really wants from Sue:

“Her Lips of Amber never part –
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her silver will –“

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star –
For Certainty she take Her way
Beside Your Palace Door –

The two girls, born nine days apart in December 1830, first met about 1848 when both were 17. Despite differences in social class and family wealth, they formed a close friendship based on their shared love of poetry and Shakespeare. As teenagers, ED and Sue devoured ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ and even adopted respective nicknames and roles of the prince and his queen.

In 1856, Sue married ED’s Harvard-educated lawyer-brother, Austin. The marriage spelled doom for the girls’ teenage infatuation, and, gradually, personal estrangement grew between them. For example, Sue loved to plan and host social gatherings at her new home, Evergreens, but ED was not invited. Perhaps ED disliked party chit-chat or perhaps her party conversation occasionally took unpredictable turns that Sue considered inappropriate for Amherst social prattle. In any case, ensuing alienation, evinced by this poem and the previous one (F734), resulted in a 15-year hiatus in ED’s visits to Evergreens (1868-1883).

In 1891, five years after ED’s death, Sue wrote ‘Minstrel of the passing days’, a 12-line poem by an increasingly conservative Christian who ambiguously mentioned ED’s “gaudy shameless tints / That fire the passions of the prince” and unambiguously complained about ED’s “Strangling vines clasping their Cleopatras”. On a positive note, Sue’s poem closes with a complement, “our common quest” of poetry:

“Minstrel of the passing days
Sing me the song of all the ways
That snare the soul in the October haze
Song of the dark glory of the hills
When dyes are frightened to dull hues
Of all the gaudy shameless tints
That fire the passions of the prince
Strangling vines clasping their Cleopatras
Closer than Antony’s embrace
Whole rims of haze in pink
Horizons be as if new worlds hew
Shaping off our common quest –“

Susan Gilbert Dickinson, about 1891

No matter — now — Sweet —
But when I’m Earl —
Won’t you wish you’d spoken
To that dull Girl?

Trivial a Word — just —
Trivial — a Smile —
But won’t you wish you’d spared one
When I’m Earl?

I shan’t need it — then —
Crests — will do —
Eagles on my Buckles —
On my Belt — too —

Ermine — my familiar Gown —
Say — Sweet — then
Won’t you wish you’d smiled — just —
Me opon?

As a history/biography nut, I have to wonder who the “you” is in this poem, F734.

The poet was hurt and angry because a friend or lover had, in her opinion, slighted her poetry or person. My candidates for guilty are Charles Wadsworth or Susan Dickinson or both.
Sam Bowles rarely replied to her letters and poems, so nothing was expected from him, and both ED and Wadsworth arranged for burning all mutual letters when they died, so we have no direct evidence that she ever called him “Sweet”.

Sue’s story was more complicated:

My count is that ED referred to Sue as “Sweet” at least seven times in previous poems and, I think, twice in this poem, F734: Line 1, “No matter-now-Sweet,” (Line 1) and “Say – Sweet – then”, (Line 14).

As teenagers, Emily and Sue devoured Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra together and proudly adopted respective roles of “prince” and “his” queen. But for Sue, marriage, socializing, and children ended those playful patterns. Sue loved to plan and host social gatherings at Evergreens, to which ED was not invited. Perhaps ED disliked chit-chat, or perhaps her conversation took unpredictable turns inappropriate for Amherst social prattle.

In any case, ensuing estrangement, evinced by this poem, resulted in a 15-year hiatus in ED’s visits to Evergreens (1868-1883). Fortunately, estrangement did not extend to their shared love of poetry, “our common quest”, as Sue said in her eulogy below. A lifelong flow of poems and notes crossed the meadow between ‘Homestead’ and ‘Evergreens’, at first via hired help or postal mail, later by Sue’s children.

Five years after ED’s death, Sue described her “strangling” relationship with ED, “the prince / Strangling vines clasping their Cleopatras”, Susan:

“Minstrel of the passing days
Sing me the song of all the ways
That snare the soul in the October haze
Song of the dark glory of the hills
When dyes are frightened to dull hues
Of all the gaudy shameless tints
That fire the passions of the prince
Strangling vines clasping their Cleopatras
Closer than Antony’s embrace
Whole rims of haze in pink
Horizons be as if new worlds hew
Shaping off our common quest –“

(Susan Dickinson 1891):

It was too late for ED to reply, but I’m sure it would have been a zinger.

Susan Dickinson, 1891, Downloaded July 31, 2022, https://archive.emilydickinson.org/susan/tmins.html

Out of sight? What of that?
See the Bird—reach it!
Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep—
Round the Steep Air—
Danger! What is that to Her?
Better ’tis to fail—there—
Than debate—here—

Blue is Blue—the World through—
Amber—Amber—Dew—Dew—
Seek—Friend—and see—
Heaven is shy of Earth—that’s all—
Bashful Heaven—thy Lovers small—
Hide—too—from thee—

ED imagines herself a bird, “Out of sight? What of that? // Danger! What is that to Her?”.

Watch out “Bashful Heaven” with “thy Lovers small”!

Watch out “Earth”, ED is ready to play: “Blue is Blue – the World through – / Amber -Amber – Dew – Dew –”.

Could ED be riffing on the previous poem (F732, second half of 1863) about a shy visitor, perhaps a minister, who is “Bashful Heaven – with “Lovers small”? As she said, “Heaven is shy of Earth –”.

Could ED be imagining / imaging herself as “Earth”, a brash, bold Earthy lover? You bet she could, just “Seek – Friend – and see -”!

Poor Reverend Wadsworth, if he was the shy visitor of the previous poem, he had no idea whom he was visiting.

A first Mute Coming—
In the Stranger’s House—
A first fair Going—
When the Bells rejoice—

A first Exchange—of
What hath mingled—been—
For Lot—exhibited to
Faith—alone—

ED gives us few clues to decipher F732. She mentions the Old Testament character, “Lot”, and she emphatically repeats , “A first” in Lines 1, 3, 5: “A first Mute Coming”, “A first fair Going”, “A first Exchange”. Lot’s life before disguised angels arrived at his door was an exhibition of faith in God, just as the relationship between visitor and visitee, who had never met in person, had “mingled – been – ” by years of shared correspondence.

An interpretation:

A mute (shy) person came to the house of someone he had never met, and they exchanged something that they had previously shared in correspondence but not in person. Like Lot whose steadfast faith in God spared his family when Sodom and Gomorrah burned, the visitor and visitee have built a trusting relationship by “Faith – alone -” during extended correspondence, and now they meet face-to-face. During this initially bashful but later joyful visit they exchange some tangible token of their love for each other, and then they part, “A first fair Going – / When the Bells rejoice –”, metaphorical wedding bells for a metaphorical bride and groom.

Several contemporary accounts attest Wadsworth was painfully shy among strangers and new acquaintances. For example, five months after Wadsworth’s death, ED wrote his best friend, James D. Clark (L994, August 22, 1882):

“Dear friend,

“. . . . . In an intimacy of many years with the beloved Clergyman, I have never before spoken with one who knew him, and his Life was so shy and his tastes so unknown, that grief for him seems almost unshared. . . . .

“E. Dickinson.”