A Quiet Passion Page #2

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used to sing that.

He had a lovely voice.

So pure.

He was only 19 when he died.

The--

There.

God keep you well.

When He is ready, He will call me.

I hope you live for a hundred years.

What a repellent idea.

Oh, Aunt, don't say that.

I'm not afraid of death, Emily.

Nor should you be.

If we keep our souls in readiness

for God, there can be no fear.

He will smooth our way.

I shall pray for you all.

And remember, keep atheism at bay.

And watch the clock that ticks for us all.

Tick.

Took.

Tick.

Oh, you are all impossible!

I went to thank her,

But she slept;

Her bed a funnelled stone,

With nosegays at the head and foot,

That travellers had thrown,

Who went to thank her;

But she slept.

'Twas short to cross the sea

To look upon her like, alive,

But turning back 'twas slow.

You think you might smile, Mr Dickinson?

I am smiling!

Emily! Emily!

- We have a guest.

This is Miss Vryling Buffam.

It sounds like an anagram, doesn't it?

You see before you a life

blighted by baptism.

Yeah, I hope you brought

to the attention of your parents

their lack of thought in that respect.

I have. It makes them very cross.

But surely they will forgive you.

Ah, but will I forgive them?

Weren't you at a ladies' seminary

at Fort Sumter or somewhere?

- Mount Holyoke.

- Yes, I thought it had a military ring to it.

But that was years ago.

And were your studies as disciplined?

Algebra, geometry, the natural sciences.

And for the sake of decorum,

ecclesiastical history.

I believe all women should have

the same educational advantages as men.

But ecclesiastical history?

It sounds as dreary as Paradise.

We brought her home.

Did you dislike Mount Holyoke so much?

She was bullied there.

There's bullying and there's coercion.

And which did you suffer?

A unique combination of both.

- It was appalling.

- Yes, but... it puts iron in the soul.

But what is the point of that when,

in the end, we are all extinguished?

- Do you fear death?

- No.

But I fear Heaven.

I'm afraid it will seem like an anticlimax.

Perfection usually does.

- And what of Hell?

I'm sure that will be even duller

than Heaven.

That will be the agony.

Will you go with us to church,

Miss Buffam?

Of course not.

Going to church is like going to Boston.

You only enjoy it

after you've gotten home.

We are to pray for the repose

of our late pastor's soul.

Doesn't that rather depend

on where it's gone?

We shall become fast friends.

Of course we shall. I'm irresistible.

- Everyone says so.

When the new pastor does arrive,

you must point him out to me.

So that you, too, may be saved?

No.

So that I will know whom to avoid.

Don't enjoy your praying too much.

It might become habit-forming.

- Do you come to God, sir?

- We do, sir.

Do you come humbly, sir?

I come as myself, Pastor.

You want to come to Christ as a lawyer?

You need to come as a poor sinner.

Get down on your knees

and let me pray for you.

And then you can pray for yourself.

- And you, Miss Dickinson. What of you?

- What of me, sir?

Will you not kneel

and give yourself to God?

No, sir, I will not kneel.

Though I think that God has

already given Himself to me.

- That was profane.

- It was not meant so, sir.

- Do you guard your soul, Emily?

- As best as I am able, sir.

And Hell? What of Hell?

Avoid it if I can. Endure it if I must.

- That was irreligious, young lady.

- Then I beg God's pardon for my impiety.

Let us pray for all sinners.

How dare you conduct yourself

in such a manner?

It is both unchristian and unseemly!

I will not be forced to piety!

- You will do as you are instructed.

I know your Christian shore is safer,

Father.

And I know I must seem recalcitrant,

but my soul is my own.

Your soul is God's!

You neglect it at your peril.

- Yes, Father.

- And in future,

you will conduct yourself in a manner

that is befitting the station in life

to which it has pleased God

to call you.

Yes, Father.

Goodnight, Emily.

Goodnight, Father.

This plate is dirty.

It is dirty no longer.

I wouldn't have gone that far.

If I had, Father would have packed me off

to a good military school

and Mother would have tearfully

embroidered something.

Ah. The eternal Miss Buffam.

Alas, no, sir.

Father Time knocks at my door also.

And what precautions do you take?

I contrive never to be at home

when he calls.

All women should aspire

to that state of readiness.

No. Women should only aspire to be

younger than their waistlines.

Then the unpleasant topic of age

becomes almost irrelevant.

And what should men aspire to?

Tobogganing.

And in warmer weather?

Philately. It has all the dangers of sport

without any of the rigour.

Your banter, Miss Buffam,

is, as always, delightful.

Take it, Mr Dickinson, as the mere

outpourings of a poor, tormented soul.

Ladies.

- Now you go too far.

- We were trying to be ironic.

- Come in.

- Will you come to church, Emily?

- No, Father.

- Why will you not come?

- God knows what is in my heart.

He doesn't require me to be in a pew

to remind Him.

I hope that remark

isn't as frivolous as it sounds.

Your soul is no trivial matter.

I agree, Father.

That's why I'm so meticulous

in guarding its independence.

I reckon - when I count out all -

First - poets - then the sun -

Then summer - then the Heaven of God

And then - the list is done -

But, looking back - the first so seems -

To comprehend the whole -

The others look a needless show -

So I write - poets - all -

Their summer - lasts a solid year -

They can afford a sun

The East - would deem extravagant -

And if the further heaven -

Be beautiful as they prepare

For those who worship them -

It is too difficult a grace -

To justify the dream -

- What is it?

- From Austin.

Likenesses of Austin

and his bride-to-be, Susan Gilbert.

Oh!

- Austin as handsome as ever.

- But she looks terrified.

We must welcome her and reassure her

we are not all forbidding.

Oh, Emily, my own!

This is a luxury that is almost Parisian.

Let's not be anything today

except superficial.

Yes. And superficiality

should always be spontaneous.

If it is studied,

it is too close to hypocrisy.

We may be superficial,

but we aren't stupid.

Heaven forbid.

This is my third commencement

ball, and not a hint of romance.

Do you suppose that men are frightened

of a woman who teaches

and is used to her independence?

Men are supposed to be fearless,

aren't they?

In war, yes. In religion, always.

In love, never.

Look at that divine creature.

- What a noble head he has.

- Like a Roman emperor.

Nero.

Let's hope he's just as wicked.

As long as he has a fortune,

we can take his wickedness

as merely a lapse in virtue.

I think you must prepare yourself

for a polka.

May I be permitted to have the next

dance on your card, Miss Buffam?

I don't have a dance card, sir.

I prefer to... improvise.

- Isn't that rather dangerous?

- That is precisely why I do it.

Ladies.

How was the divinity?

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