A Quiet Passion Page #5

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And if he can find comedy

in a vulgar fraction, I'm his.

- But do you love him?

- Love? I cannot say.

It's a very beguiling idea.

They even say it exists.

But how will you know?

What if you make an error?

If he is a bad choice,

I'll have him killed quietly

and tell everyone he died of some sort

of algebraic shock.

I hope you will be happy.

That cannot be guaranteed.

I'll settle for consideration.

- That sounds like surrender.

- No, it's practicality.

And who knows?

Perhaps love will come in its wake.

- Then I can relax into smugness.

- You could never be smug.

Life catches you out, Emily. In the end,

we all become the thing we most dread.

Then I will reject the world

and not fulfil that prophecy.

Then you will be making

the greatest of mistakes,

for you will deny yourself

what your spirit needs most.

- And what is that?

- Truth. And experience.

Otherwise,

your vow will be an act of cowardice.

- That was hurtful.

- But honest.

Don't resist your vices, Emily.

It is your virtues you should be wary of.

Austin once told Aunt Elizabeth

that our virtues are just vices in disguise.

Now, there is a man

with a sense of humour.

And does your Mr Wilder possess one?

Of a kind.

He proposed to me by letter,

so if the marriage is unhappy,

I shall blame the US mail.

Always conform.

Keep disobedience secret.

Be outwardly docile, but in your heart,

you can be as revolutionary as you like.

- But isn't that hypocrisy?

- Of course it is.

But in America, we cherish it.

We think it makes us incorruptible.

You must never confuse

the outer with the inner piety.

Only Episcopalians do that.

But I am rebellious

and far from the grace of God.

You are closer to Him

than anyone I know.

Always look below the surface, Emily,

but don't be afraid of what you find there.

- Chaos?

- Yes.

Then I shall confront everything.

Don't be too radical, Emily.

Radicals don't thrive in this country.

- But you are a radical.

- But I'll eventually conform.

For the sake of peace or a quiet life.

But I know that you will not,

and I envy you your courage.

I suppose you shall carry lovely flowers

and have Mr Mendelssohn's

"Wedding March".

Flowers, yes. Mendelssohn, no.

Never play happy music at a wedding,

Emily, it's too misleading.

- But you shall be forever gone from us.

- You make it sound like dying.

- Isn't it?

- No.

And even if it were, you must

force yourself to think otherwise.

America is the only country in the world

that looks upon death

as some kind of personal failure.

May I get you something, Mother?

No, Emily.

You've always seemed so sad, Mother.

My life has passed as if in a dream.

As if I'd never been part of it.

After Vinnie was born,

a kind of melancholia settled over me

which I mistook for contentment.

Were we such a terrible price to pay?

No!

I wouldn't be without all three of you.

To have my children about me...

there could be no better medicine.

Sometimes...

at a certain hour...

when the sun is low...

the shadows lengthen...

I am filled

with such a sense of longing.

I feel such a weight on my heart.

Oh, how it aches.

Oh, my dear.

Oh, my dear.

There, my lamb. There.

Oh!

Reverend Wadsworth

has sailed for San Francisco.

They all go. They all leave.

They all desert you.

Do not touch me!

I will not be pitied.

It makes me feel repulsive.

You set too much store

by physical beauty, Emily.

The only people who can be sanguine

about not being handsome

are those who are beautiful already.

The rest of us have only our envy

to keep us warm.

- You have an exquisite nature.

- What's the use of that in this world?

I sometimes think

you are too harsh with yourself.

I have many defects.

There is much to rectify!

It is just as punitive

to admit to too many faults

as it is to deny too few virtues.

The Reverend Wadsworth

is a married man.

This kind of attachment is improper.

We can't all possess your smug rectitude.

Don't sneer at anyone's morals

when your own could do with

some little correction.

By that, I assume

you mean Reverend Wadsworth?

He's married!

You should not attach yourself

to someone who is not free

to return that attachment!

You hardly know the man,

except through his sermons.

Besides, he and Mrs Wadsworth

are very happy.

She has led a blameless life.

She hasn't led a life at all!

She's too inert for that.

If docility were love,

we would all live happily ever after.

She's a good wife!

And, to be truthful, I have never understood

the attraction of her husband for you.

He is hardly a Mr Rochester,

and you are certainly not Jane Eyre!

That was unkind.

I'm sorry, too.

You're not smug.

But I do sermonise.

And I do over-dramatise.

But it was news that was...

is hard to bear.

Oh, you are a wretched creature!

Will you never achieve anything?

We outgrow love like other things

And put it in the drawer,

Till it an antique fashion shows

Like costumes grandsires wore.

May the Lord

make His face shine upon you

and be gracious unto you.

May the Lord lift up His countenance

unto you and give you peace.

We wish you

all the happiness in the world.

No tears, Emily.

No tears.

- Will you come?

- No.

Wave her my goodbye.

The dying need but little, dear -

A glass of water's all,

A flower's unobtrusive face

To punctuate the wall,

A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,

And certainly that one

No colour in the rainbow

Perceives when you are gone.

Look back on time with kindly eyes,

He doubtless did his best;

How softly sinks his trembling sun

In human nature's west!

Of so divine a loss

We enter but the gain,

Indemnity for loneliness

That such a bliss has been.

If we reach into the silence

then we cannot be afraid,

for where there is nothing, there is God.

Emily?

Emily?

You must eat.

You must come down now.

It's been three days.

You are wearing white.

Yes.

But we're still in mourning.

So am I.

Emily? It's Mr Bowles.

He's come to Amherst

specially to see you.

Well, come down, damn you.

I refuse to speak to someone

who's a flight of stairs above me.

Forgive me, sir, if I'm frightened.

I never see anyone

and I hardly know what to say.

You could say thank you

for my publishing some of your verse.

For that, sir, you have more than

my thanks. You have my gratitude.

But, sir...

you have altered

some of my punctuation.

Good Lord. What's a hyphen here

or a semi-colon there?

To many, nothing.

But, to me, the alteration of my

punctuation marks is very hard to endure.

Then I apologise.

I was merely trying to make

your meaning clearer to my readers.

Clarity is one thing, sir,

obviousness quite another.

The only person qualified to interfere

with the poet's work is the poet herself.

From anyone else, it feels like an attack.

Miss Dickinson,

this is no way to speak or behave.

If you treated a suitor like this,

he would not return.

- Are you sure there will be one?

- Of course.

Even for someone

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