The Voice at the Door
By James Sulzer
()
About this ebook
The Voice at the Door recreates the fateful meeting of Emily Dickinson with the famous Philadelphia pastor, Charles Wadsworth. The fictional account weaves the letters and poems of this iconic American writer into a rich tapestry of intellectual and spiritual communion. It encompasses the three great mysteries of Emily Dickinson's life: her agonized love poetry of the early 1860's, her partial blindness in 1863–1865, and her subsequent withdrawal from the world. The Voice at the Door brings to life an Emily Dickinson who possesses the intellectual rigor, the naïveté, the eccentricity, the passion, the despair, and the sly humor that we know and love from her poetry.
James Sulzer
James Sulzer, author of "The Voice at the Door," lives on Nantucket Island, Massachusetts and teaches reading and writing to students in grades 5-8. A graduate of Yale University, where he was a Yale National Scholar, he is also the author of Nantucket Daybreak (Walker and Co.) and the memoir Mom Comes Home. He has produced countless "sonic id's" for National Public Radio, some of which aired on Ira Glass's This American Life. He has spent the past 40 years of his life reading, living with, and cherishing the poetry of Emily Dickinson.
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The Voice at the Door - James Sulzer
The Voice
at the Door
A Novel of Emily Dickinson
Emily_oval_gray.tifJames Sulzer
Fuze-logo_new_BW.tifAshland, Oregon
whitegraphic.jpgThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Fuze Publishing
2305-C Ashland Street, #312
Ashland, OR 97520
The Voice at the Door Copyright © 2013 by James Sulzer. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Published by Fuze Publishing, Smashwords edition.
Poems by Emily Dickinson: Reprinted by permission of the publishers and the Trustees of Amherst College from THE POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON: READING EDITION, edited by Ralph W. Franklin, Cambridge, Mass. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Copyright © 1998, 1999 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College. Copyright © 1951, 1955, 1979, 1983 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College.
Letters by Emily Dickinson: Reprinted by permission of the publisher from The Letters of Emily Dickinson, edited by Thomas H. Johnson, Cambridge, Mass. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Copyright © 1958, 1986, The President and Fellows of Harvard College; 1914, 1924, 1932, 1942 by Martha Dickinson Bianchi; 1952 by Alfred Leete Hampson; 1960 by Mary L. Hampson.
Photograph of Emily Dickinson used by permission of Amherst College Special Collections.
Book design by Ray Rhamey
Author photograpy by Laurie Richards
ISBN 9781310704505
Print edition Library of Congress Control Number: 2013947653
whitegraphic.jpgFor Barbara,
again and always
whitegraphic.jpgflower_graphic.jpgIntroduction
They say every family has its eccentric. In my family it was Uncle William Norcross. He was a doctor, an expert on infectious disease who made a quiet living as a consultant to charitable organizations. Later in life after the death of his wife, and a subsequent failed romance, he moved to Amherst, Massachusetts—the home of his lifelong obsession, the poet Emily Dickinson.
For the last twenty-two years of his life, William rented a tiny apartment in the tower of a Victorian house not far from the Dickinson Homestead.
There he disappeared from public view for weeks at a time. He dropped hints that he was working on a manuscript of earth-shaking importance, but I never quite believed him. He was a medical man, not a writer, I thought.
Over the years, based on his extensive research, he devised some novel theories about Emily Dickinson’s withdrawal from the world and a long distance love affair with a married man, all of which—according to William—prompted some of her most extraordinary poetry. He must have known that his ideas would astound some and dismay others.
There were also stories during those years that a wraith-like figure, clad all in white, sometimes drifted about Amherst in the early hours before dawn, and some connected William with its appearance, though that was never substantiated. Once, indeed, the figure was said to enter the little bakery close to the Dickinson homestead, and a message chalked itself on the daily menu board: Graham bread today, ½ gill of lard. Rumors and hearsay, probably.
Upon my uncle’s death the following manuscript was discovered among his papers. At first I couldn’t take his hypothesis seriously, but as I read on, I came to know and understand an Emily Dickinson who was altogether new and endearing. I saw how her upbringing contributed to her reclusiveness, how her sly sense of humor developed in the give and take of family interactions, and how her ecstasy and despair were opposite sides of the same coin. Her beautiful but enigmatic poems seemed, suddenly, more human and approachable; and for the first time I felt I understood the love and the pain that were so much a part of her poetry.
William’s manuscript is now in your hands. I hope you will give his life’s work the care and attention that I believe it deserves.
Sincerely,
James Sulzer,
Nephew and Executor
whitegraphic.jpgTimeline of Emily Dickinson’s life
1813
Samuel Fowler Dickinson (grandfather) builds the Homestead on Main Street.
1828, May 6
Edward Dickinson (father) and Emily Norcross (mother) marry.
1829, April 16
William Austin Dickinson (Austin), Emily’s brother, is born.
1830, December 10
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson is born.
1833, February 28
Lavinia Dickinson (Vinnie), Emily’s sister is born.
1833, March
Under financial pressure because of possible mismanagement of his affairs, Samuel Fowler Dickinson sells the Homestead; the family continues to rent and live in east half of the house.
1840, April
Edward Dickinson, his wife, and their three children move to the house on West Street (now called North Pleasant Street).
1847, September – 1848, August
Emily attends Mount Holyoke Female Seminary.
1850, Summer
Austin begins to court Emily’s friend Susan Gilbert.
1855, February
Emily and Vinnie visit Father in Washington, DC.
1855, March
The sisters visit Eliza Coleman in Philadelphia, where Emily meets the Reverend Charles Wads-worth.
1855, November
Having repurchased it a year earlier, Edward Dickinson and family (including Emily) move back to the Homestead.
1856, July
Austin marries Susan Gilbert; they move to the Evergreens
next door to the Homestead.
1860, Summer
Charles Wadsworth visits Emily at the Homestead.
1860, October 19
Emily and Vinnie visit Eliza in Middletown, CT.
1862, May
Charles Wadsworth and family move to San Francisco, where he is installed at Calvary Presbyterian Church.
1864, April – November and 1865, April – October
Emily receives treatment for her eyes in Boston, living in Cambridge with her cousins Louisa and Fanny Norcross.
1869, July
Charles Wadsworth and family return to Philadelphia.
1874, June 16
Edward Dickinson (Father) dies.
1880, Summer
Charles Wadsworth visits Emily at the Homestead.
1882, April 1
Charles Wadsworth dies.
1882, September
Austin begins his affair with Mabel Loomis Todd.
1882, November 14
Emily Norcross Dickinson (Mother) dies.
1883, October 5
Thomas Gilbert Dickinson (Gib, Austin’s youngest child) dies.
1886, May 15
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson dies.
whitegraphic.jpgflower_graphic.jpgPrologue
Late Winter, 1855
With surprising strength for someone so slight, Emily Dickinson pulls open the door to the stove, stirs the coals with a poker, feeds more wood onto the fire, closes the door, and adjusts the vents to bank the fire. There is the satisfying clank of iron on iron as she works. As she does every morning, she prepares to bake the bread. She sets a pan of water on the stove, takes out her glass measuring cup from the cupboard and her silver measuring spoons from the drawer—both items are strictly off-limits to anyone else—and drags out the bags of corn meal and rye from the pantry.
With deft, capable hands she measures twelve cups of corn meal and twelve cups of rye into separate bowls. Turning the corn meal into a bread pan, she dashes salt upon it and pours hot water over it, stirring it with one of her silver spoons. She places it to the side to let it cool and brews herself a cup of tea. Occasionally, she jots down a line or two of verse on the back of a scrap of paper, but she reserves the evenings and nights for her more serious attempts at poetry.
Once the corn meal has cooled, she pours in the rye, adds half a cup of yeast, and dribbles in a little more water, leaving it almost too stiff to knead. She will let it stand for an hour and a half. She knows she still needs to skim the milk in the pantry and wash the remainders of last night’s dishes, but first she invites Carlo, her Newfoundland dog, whose head reaches her elbow, to step outside with her. Behind a lacework of dark trees, the eastern sky is beaten gold; she can smell dew upon the grass.
As the canine lumbers off into the woods, she turns her attention to the visitor before her: a bird coming down the walk. It takes two quick hops onto the grass, turns its head sidewise as if listening for something, and plunges its beak into the moist earth. Dragging an angleworm back onto the walk, it bites it in two and gulps it down. It glances rapidly about, and for the first time it sees her. There is a look in its eye that she has noticed before; a look she often sees in birds; a look that others must have seen, too, but she knows that no one has ever captured it in words.
A sweet pain of hope and promise rises in her. She knows that words can maybe, somehow, deliver her.
A Bird, came down the Walk –
He did not know I saw –
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
She calls to Carlo, and the two of them return to the kitchen, where she busies herself again in work. Carlo worries his way to comfort in his old blanket and falls back asleep.
By now it is almost eight. Her parents will soon cease their snoring, and her sister Vinnie will give voice to the first of her many complaints against the world. Her brother Austin will be completing his grooming and dressing, as he prepares to resume his courtship of Susan Gilbert. And soon Margaret, the serving girl, will arrive.
It is time to knead the dough.
It isn’t until she is up to her elbows in its satisfying bulk that she pictures again the bird’s eyes glancing about, and the words take shape in her mind.
They looked like frightened beads.
It is the sort of impossibility that delights her.
She pauses a moment, setting the phrase in her mind. She knows that no one, no one in the long history of the Earth, has ever seen it just this way. No one has ever put into words, so simply and so strangely, the look in the eyes of a bird. She knows that this is a gift.
He glanced with rapid eyes,
That hurried all abroad –
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought.
And she knows that there is no one in her life now, no one imaginable, with whom she can share this gift. No one who can share, or understand, or love what she has been given. But her longing is unmistakable, unshakable; she is ready to entwine her heart with her intellectual equal . . . if there be such a person . . .
At dawn, in the New England winter, the trees hold out their bare hands toward the beauty of the East. And through the kitchen window, Emily Dickinson watches a bird unroll its feathers and take flight into the silver dome of heaven.
It is here that our story begins.
whitegraphic.jpgflower_graphic.jpgPart I
I had been hungry, all the Years –
My Noon had Come – to dine –
whitegraphic.jpgONE
Spring, 1855
Emily doesn’t know why, but she feels both highly expectant and curiously calm. She is about to meet one of the most important pastoral figures of the time. It is March of 1855, and she and her sister Vinnie are on the journey home to Amherst, Massachusetts from Washington, DC—where they have observed Father sitting in Congress. They plan to stop for a short visit in Philadelphia, where Emily’s childhood friend, Eliza Coleman, has lived for several years. Often in her letters Eliza has mentioned the esteemed Charles Wadsworth.
He is an older man, married and much revered; the