From "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God"

(What follows is the excerpt in our textbook; e-text borrowed from the Jonathan Edwards Center at Yale University)

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The wrath of God is like great waters that are dammed for the present; they increase more and more, and rise higher and higher, till an outlet is given, and the longer the stream is stopped, the more rapid and mighty is its course, when once it is let loose. ‘Tis true, that judgment against your evil works has not been executed hitherto; the floods of God's vengeance have been withheld; but your guilt in the meantime is constantly increasing, and you are every day treasuring up[1] more wrath; the waters are continually rising and waxing more and more mighty; and there is nothing but the mere pleasure of God that holds the waters back that are unwilling to be stopped, and press hard to go forward; if God should only withdraw his hand from the floodgate, it would immediately fly open, and the fiery floods of the fierceness and wrath of God would rush forth with inconceivable fury, and would come upon you with omnipotent power; and if your strength were ten thousand times greater than it is, yea, ten thousand times greater than the strength of the stoutest, sturdiest devil in hell, it would be nothing to withstand or endure it.

The bow of God's wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string, and Justice bends the arrow at your heart, and strains the bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God, and that of an angry God, without any promise or obligation at all, that keeps the arrow one moment from being made drunk with your blood.

Thus all you that never passed under a great change of heart, by the mighty power of the Spirit of God upon your souls; all that were never born again, and made new creatures, and raised from being dead in sin, to a state of new, and before altogether unexperienced light and life (however you may have reformed your life in many things, and may have had religious affections[2], and may keep up a form of religion in your families and closets[3], and in the house of God, and may be strict in it), you are thus in the hands of an angry God; ‘tis nothing but his mere pleasure that keeps you from being this moment swallowed up in everlasting destruction.

However unconvinced you may now be of the truth of what you hear, by and by you will be fully convinced of it. Those that are gone from being in the like[4] circumstances with you, see that it was so with them; for destruction came suddenly upon most of them, when they expected nothing of it, and while they were saying, “Peace and safety”: now they see, that those things that they depended on for peace and safety, were nothing but thin air and empty shadows.

The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect, over the fire, abhors[5] you, and is dreadfully provoked[6]; his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times so abominable[7] in his eyes as the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours. You have offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince; and yet ‘tis nothing but his hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment; ‘tis to be ascribed[8] to nothing else, that you did not go to hell the last night; that you was suffered to awake again in this world, after you closed your eyes to sleep: and there is no other reason to be given why you have not dropped into hell since you arose in the morning, but that God's hand has held you up; there is no other reason to be given why you han’t[9] not gone to hell since you have sat here in the house of God, provoking his pure eyes by your sinful wicked manner of attending his solemn worship: yea, there is nothing else that is to be given as a reason why you do not this very moment drop down into hell.

O sinner! Consider the fearful danger you are in: ‘tis a great furnace of wrath, a wide and bottomless pit, full of the fire of wrath, that you are held over in the hand of that God, whose wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you as against many of the damned in hell; you hang by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it, and ready every moment to singe it, and burn it asunder[10]; and you have no interest in any Mediator, and nothing to lay hold of to save yourself, nothing to keep off the flames of wrath, nothing of your own, nothing that you ever have done, nothing that you can do, to induce[11] God to spare you one moment.

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[1] treasuring up – hoarding, saving up

[2] religious affections – desires to do God’s will

[3] closets – personal lives (lives that are ‘closeted’ or hidden)

[4] like – similar or same

[5] abhor – to hates or loathe

[6] provoked – angered, enraged, irritated, exasperated (OED)

[7] abominable – detestable, horrid, loathsome

[8] ascribed – attributed

[9] han’t – have not

[10] asunder – into separate parts; in two, in pieces (OED)

[11] induce – cause, prompt

Due Friday: From Jonathan Edwards's "Personal Narrative"

[Below is a series of excerpts from Edwards's "Personal Narrative".  For Friday, read it; then copy a phrase that you find interesting, and comment on it.  Also read at least 80 pp. of your own book.]

    I had a variety of concerns and exercises about my soul from my childhood; but had two more remarkable seasons of awakening, before I met with that change by which I was brought to those new dispositions, and that new sense of things, that I have since had. The first time was when I was a boy, some years before I went to college, at a time of remarkable awakening in my father’s congregation. I was then very much affected for many months, and concerned about the things of religion, and my soul’s salvation; and was abundant in religious duties. I used to pray five times a day in secret, and to spend much time in religious conversation with other boys; and used to meet with them to pray together. I experienced I know not what kind of delight in religion. My mind was much engaged in it, and had much self-righteous pleasure; and it was my delight to abound in religious duties. I, with some of my schoolmates, joined together and built a booth in a swamp, in a very retired spot, for a place of prayer. And besides, I had particular secret places of my own in the woods, where I used to retire by myself; and was from time to time much affected. My affections seemed to be lively and easily moved, and I seemed to be in my element when engaged in religious duties. And I am ready to think, many are deceived with such affections, and such a kind of delight as I then had in religion, and mistake it for grace.
    But in process of time, my convictions and affections wore off; and I entirely lost all those affections and delights, and left off secret prayer, at least as to any constant performance of it; and returned like a dog to his vomit, and went on in the ways of sin. Indeed, I was at times very uneasy, especially towards the latter part of my time at college; when it pleased God to seize me with a pleurisy, in which he brought me nigh to the grave, and shook me over the pit of hell. And yet, it was not long after my recovery, before I fell again into my old ways of sin. But God would not suffer me to go on with any quietness; I had great and violent inward struggles, till after many conflicts with wicked inclinations, repeated resolutions, and bonds that I laid myself under by a kind of vows to God, I was brought wholly to break off all former wicked ways, and all ways of known outward sin; and to apply myself to seek salvation, and practice many religious duties; but without that kind of affection and delight which I had formerly experienced. My concern now wrought more by inward struggles and conflicts, and self-reflections. I made seeking my salvation the main business of my life. But yet, it seems to me, I sought after a miserable manner, which has made me sometimes since to question, whether ever it issued in that which was saving; being ready to doubt whether such miserable seeking ever succeeded. I was indeed brought to seek salvation in a manner that I never was before; I felt a spirit to part with all things in the world, for an interest in Christ. My concern continued and prevailed, with many exercising thoughts and inward struggles; but yet it never seemed to be proper to express that concern by the name of terror.

Sovereignty of God

    From my childhood up, my mind had been full of objections against the doctrine of God’s sovereignty, in choosing whom he would to eternal life, and rejecting whom he pleased; leaving them eternally to perish, and be everlastingly tormented in hell. It used to appear like a horrible doctrine to me. But I remember the time very well, when I seemed to be convinced, and fully satisfied, as to this sovereignty of God, and his justice in thus eternally disposing of men, according to his sovereign pleasure. But I never could give an account how, or by what means, I was thus convinced. [...] But I have often, since that first conviction, had quite another kind of sense of God’s sovereignty that I had then. I have often since had not only a conviction, but a delightful conviction. The doctrine has very often appeared exceeding pleasant, bright, and sweet. Absolute sovereignty is what I love to ascribe to God. But my first conviction was not so.
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    From about that time, I began to have a new kind of apprehensions and ideas of Christ, and the work of redemption, and the glorious way of salvation by him. An inward, sweet sense of these things, at times, came into my heart; and my soul was led away in pleasant views and contemplations of them. And my mind was greatly encouraged to spend my time in reading and meditating on Christ, on the beauty and excellency of his person, and the lovely way of salvation by free grace in him. I found no books so delightful to me, as those that treated of these subjects. Those words, Song. 2:1, used to be abundantly with me, “I am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the valleys.” The words seemed to me sweetly to represent the loveliness and beauty of Jesus Christ. The whole book of Canticles used to be pleasant to me, and I used to be much in reading it, about that time; and found, from time to time, an inward sweetness, that would carry me away in my contemplations. This I know not how to express otherwise, than by a calm, sweet abstraction of soul from all the concerns of this world; and sometimes a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains, or some solitary wilderness, far from all mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ, and rapt and swallowed up in God. The sense I had of divine things, would often of a sudden kindle up, as it were, a sweet burning in my heart; an ardor of soul that I know not how to express.

Growth of Spiritual Life

    Not long after I first began to experience these things, I gave an account to my father of some things that had passed in my mind. I was pretty much affected by the discourse we had together; and when the discourse was ended, I walked abroad alone, in a solitary place in my father’s pasture, for contemplation. And as I was walking there, and looking up on the sky and clouds, there came into my mind so sweet a sense of the glorious majesty and grace of God, that I know not how to express. — I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction; majesty and meekness joined together: it was a sweet and gentle, and holy majesty; and also a majestic meekness; an awful sweetness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness.
    After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of every thing was altered; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thing. God’s excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, and moon, and stars; in the clouds and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for a long time; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things; in the mean time, singing forth, with a low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce any thing, among all the works of nature, was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning; formerly nothing had been so terrible to me. Before, I used to be uncommonly terrified with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunderstorm rising; but now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God, if I may so to speak, at the first appearance of a thunderstorm; and used to take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds and see the lightnings play, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God’s thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God. While thus engaged, it always seemed natural to me to sing or chant forth my meditations; or, to speak my thoughts in soliloquies with a singing voice.
     ...On January 12, 1723, I made a solemn dedication of myself to God, and wrote it down; giving up myself, and all I had, to God; to be for the future in no respect my own; to act as one that had no right to himself, in any respect. And solemnly vowed to take God for my whole portion and felicity; looking on nothing else as any part of my happiness, nor acting as it were; and his law for the constant rule of my obedience; engaging to fight with all my might against the world, the flesh, and the devil, to the end of my life. But I have reason to be infinitely humbled, when I consider how much I have failed of answering my obligation.
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    I very frequently used to retire into a solitary place, on the banks of Hudson’s river, at some distance from the city, for contemplation on divine things and secret converse with God; and had many sweet hours there. Sometimes Mr. Smith and I walked there together, to converse on the things of God; and our conversation used to turn much on the advancement of Christ’s kingdom in the world, and the glorious things that God would accomplish for his church in the latter days. I had then, and at other times, the greatest delight in the Holy Scriptures of any book whatsoever. Oftentimes in reading it, every word seemed to touch my heart. I felt a harmony between something in my heart, and those sweet and powerful words. I seemed often to see so much light exhibited by every sentence, and such a refreshing food communicated, that I could not get along in reading; often dwelling long on one sentence, to see the wonders contained in it; and yet almost every sentence seemed to be full of wonders.

Further Reflections

    I came away from New York in the month of April, 1723, and had a most bitter parting with Madam Smith and her son. My heart seemed to sink within me at leaving the family and city, where I had enjoyed so many sweet and pleasant days. I went from New York to Wethersfield, by water, and as I sailed away, I kept sight of the city as long as I could. However, that night, after this sorrowful parting, I was greatly comforted in God at Westchester, where we went ashore to lodge; and had a pleasant time of it all the voyage to Saybrook. It was sweet to me to think of meeting dear Christians in heaven, where we should never part more. At Saybrook we went ashore to lodge on Saturday, and there kept the sabbath; where I had a sweet and refreshing season walking alone in the fields.
    After I came home to Windsor, I remained much in a like frame of mind as when at New York; only sometimes I felt my heart ready to sink with the thoughts of my friends at New York. My support was in contemplations on the heavenly state; as I find in my diary of May 1, 1723. It was a comfort to think of that state, where there is fullness of joy; where reigns heavenly calm, and delightful love, without alloy; where there are continually the dearest expressions of love; where is the enjoyment of the persons loved, without ever parting; where these persons who appear so lovely in this world, will really be inexpressibly more lovely and full of love to us. And how sweetly will the mutual lovers join together, to sing the praises of God and the Lamb! How will it fill us with joy to think that this enjoyment, these sweet exercises, will never cease but will last to all eternity! I continued much in the same frame, in the general, as when at New York, till I went to New Haven as tutor of the college; particularly once at Bolton, on a journey from Boston, while walking out alone in the fields. After I went to New Haven, I sunk in religion, my mind being diverted from my eager pursuits after holiness, by some affairs that greatly perplexed and distracted my thoughts.
    ...Once, as I rode out into the woods for my health, in 1737, having alighted from my horse in a retired place, as my manner commonly has been, to walk for divine contemplation and prayer, I had a view that for me was extraordinary, of the glory of the Son of God, as Mediator between God and man, and his wonderful, great, full, pure and sweet grace and love, and meek and gentle condescension. This grace that appeared so calm and sweet, appeared also great above the heavens. The person of Christ appeared ineffably excellent, with an excellency great enough to swallow up all thought and conception — which continued, as near as I can judge, about an hour; which kept me the greater part of the time in a flood of tears, and weeping aloud. I felt an ardency of soul to be, what I know not otherwise how to express, emptied and annihilated; to lie in the dust, and to be full of Christ alone; to love him with a holy and pure love; to trust in him; to live upon him; to serve and follow him; and to be perfectly sanctified and made pure, with a divine and heavenly purity. I have several other times had views very much of the same nature, and which have had the same effects.
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    Often, since I lived in this town, I have had very affecting views of my own sinfulness and vileness; very frequently to such a degree as to hold me in a kind of loud weeping, sometimes for a considerable time together; so that I have often been forced to shut myself up. I have had a vastly greater sense of my own wickedness, and the badness of my heart, than ever I had before my conversion. It has often appeared to me, that if God should mark iniquity against me, I should appear the very worst of all mankind; of all that have been since the beginning of the world to this time; and that I should have by far the lowest place in the world to this time; and that I should have by far the lowest place in hell. When others, that have come to talk with me about their soul concerns, have expressed the sense they have had of their own wickedness by saying, that it seemed to them, that they were as bad as the devil himself; I thought their expressions seemed exceeding faint and feeble, to represent my wickedness.
My wickedness, as I am in myself, has long appeared to me perfectly ineffable, and swallowing up all thought and imagination; like an infinite deluge, or mountains over my head. I know not how to express better what my sins appear to me to be, than by heaping infinite upon infinite, and multiplying infinite by infinite. Very often, for these many years, these expressions are in my mind and in my mouth, “Infinite upon infinite — Infinite upon infinite!” When I look into my heart, and take a view of my wickedness, it looks like an abyss, infinitely deeper than hell. And it appears to me, that were it not for free grace, exalted and raised up to the infinite height of all the fullness and glory of the great Jehovah, and the arm of his power and grace stretched forth in all the majesty of his power, and in all the glory of his sovereignty, I should appear sunk down in my sins below hell itself; far beyond the sight of every thing, but the eye of sovereign grace, that can pierce even down to such a depth. And yet, it seems to me that my conviction of sin is exceeding small and faint; it is enough to amaze me, that I have very little sense of my sinfulness. I know certainly, that I have very little sense of my sinfulness. When I have had turns of weeping for my sins, I thought I knew at the time that my repentance was nothing to my sin.
    I have greatly longed of late for a broken heart, and to lie low before God; and when I ask for humility, I cannot bear the thoughts of being no more humble than other Christians. It seems to me, that though their degrees of humility may be suitable for them, yet it would be a vile self-exaltation in me, not to be the lowest in humility of all mankind. Others speak of their longing to be “humbled in the dust”; that may be a proper expression for them, but I always think of myself, that I ought, and it is an expression that has long been natural for me to use in prayer, “to lie infinitely low before God.” And it is affecting to think, how ignorant I was, when a young Christian, of the bottomless, infinite depths of wickedness, pride, hypocrisy and deceit, left in my heart.
    I have a much greater sense of my universal, exceeding dependence on God’s grace and strength, and mere good pleasure, of late, than I used formerly to have; and have experienced more of an abhorrence of my own righteousness. The very thought of any joy arising in me, on any consideration of my own amiableness, performances, or experiences, or any goodness of heart or life, is nauseous and detestable to me. And yet, I am greatly afflicted with a proud and self-righteous spirit, much more sensibly than I used to be formerly. I see that serpent rising and putting, forth its head continually, every where, all around me.
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The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards (1722-1723)

For Thursday: read the following; write a comment about them (notice something interesting!); and write, on paper, your own list of at least ten resolutions.

 

The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards
 (1703-1758)

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BEING SENSIBLE THAT I AM UNABLE TO DO ANYTHING WITHOUT GOD' S HELP, I DO HUMBLY ENTREAT HIM BY HIS GRACE TO ENABLE ME TO KEEP THESE RESOLUTIONS, SO FAR AS THEY ARE AGREEABLE TO HIS WILL, FOR CHRIST' S SAKE.

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Remember to read over these Resolutions once a week.
1. Resolved, that I will do whatsoever I think to be most to God' s glory, and my own good, profit and pleasure, in the whole of my duration, without any consideration of the time, whether now, or never so many myriads of ages hence. Resolved to do whatever I think to be my duty and most for the good and advantage of mankind in general. Resolved to do this, whatever difficulties I meet with, how many soever, and how great soever.
2. Resolved, to be continually endeavoring to find out some new contrivance and invention to promote the aforementioned things.
3. Resolved, if ever I shall fall and grow dull, so as to neglect to keep any part of these Resolutions, to repent of all I can remember, when I come to myself again.
4. Resolved, never to do any manner of thing, whether in soul or body, less or more, but what tends to the glory of God; nor be, nor suffer it, if I can avoid it.
5. Resolved, never to lose one moment of time; but improve it the most profitable way I possibly can.
6. Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live.
7. Resolved, never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life.
8. Resolved, to act, in all respects, both speaking and doing, as if nobody had been so vile as I, and as if I had committed the same sins, or had the same infirmities or failings as others; and that I will let the knowledge of their failings promote nothing but shame in myself, and prove only an occasion of my confessing my own sins and misery to God. July 30.
9. Resolved, to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.
10. Resolved, when I feel pain, to think of the pains of martyrdom, and of hell.
11. Resolved, when I think of any theorem in divinity to be solved, immediately to do what I can towards solving it, if circumstances do not hinder.
12. Resolved, if I take delight in it as a gratification of pride, or vanity, or on any such account, immediately to throw it by.
13. Resolved, to be endeavoring to find out fit objects of charity and liberality.
14. Resolved, never to do any thing out of revenge.
15. Resolved, never to suffer the least motions of anger towards irrational beings.
16. Resolved, never to speak evil of anyone, so that it shall tend to his dishonor, more or less, upon no account except for some real good.
17. Resolved, that I will live so, as I shall wish I had done when I come to die.
18. Resolved, to live so, at all times, as I think is best in my devout frames, and when I have clearest notions of things of the gospel, and another world.
19. Resolved, never to do any thing, which I should be afraid to do, if I expected it would not be above an hour, before I should hear the last trump.
20. Resolved, to maintain the strictest temperance, in eating and drinking.
21. Resolved, never to do any thing, which if I should see in another, I should count a just occasion to despise him for, or to think any way the more meanly of him. (Resolutions 1 through 21 written in one setting in New Haven in 1722)
22. Resolved, to endeavor to obtain for myself as much happiness, in the other world, as I possibly can, with all the power, might, vigor, and vehemence, yea violence, I am capable of, or can bring myself to exert, in any way that can be thought of.
23. Resolved, frequently to take some deliberate action, which seems most unlikely to be done, for the glory of God, and trace it back to the original intention, designs and ends of it; and if I find it not to be for God' s glory, to repute it as a breach of the 4th Resolution.
24. Resolved, whenever I do any conspicuously evil action, to trace it back, till I come to the original cause; and then, both carefully endeavor to do so no more, and to fight and pray with all my might against the original of it.
25. Resolved, to examine carefully, and constantly, what that one thing in me is, which causes me in the least to doubt of the love of God; and to direct all my forces against it.
26. Resolved, to cast away such things, as I find do abate my assurance.
27. Resolved, never willfully to omit any thing, except the omission be for the glory of God; and frequently to examine my omissions.
28. Resolved, to study the Scriptures so steadily, constantly and frequently, as that I may find, and plainly perceive myself to grow in the knowledge of the same.
29. Resolved, never to count that a prayer, nor to let that pass as a prayer, nor that as a petition of a prayer, which is so made, that I cannot hope that God will answer it; nor that as a confession, which I cannot hope God will accept.
30. Resolved, to strive to my utmost every week to be brought higher in religion, and to a higher exercise of grace, than I was the week before.
31. Resolved, never to say any thing at all against any body, but when it is perfectly agreeable to the highest degree of Christian honor, and of love to mankind, agreeable to the lowest humility, and sense of my own faults and failings, and agreeable to the golden rule; often, when I have said anything against anyone, to bring it to, and try it strictly by the test of this Resolution.
32. Resolved, to be strictly and firmly faithful to my trust, that that, in Proverbs 20:6, A faithful man who can find? may not be partly fulfilled in me.
33. Resolved, to do always, what I can towards making, maintaining, and preserving peace, when it can be done without overbalancing detriment in other respects. Dec. 26, 1722.
34. Resolved, in narrations never to speak any thing but the pure and simple verity.
35. Resolved, whenever I so much question whether I have done my duty, as that my quiet and calm is thereby disturbed, to set it down, and also how the question was resolved. Dec. 18, 1722.
36. Resolved, never to speak evil of any, except I have some particular good call for it. Dec. 19, 1722.
37. Resolved, to inquire every night, as I am going to bed, wherein I have been negligent,- what sin I have committed,-and wherein I have denied myself;-also at the end of every week, month and year. Dec. 22 and 26, 1722.
38. Resolved, never to speak anything that is ridiculous, sportive, or matter of laughter on the Lord' s day. Sabbath evening, Dec. 23, 1722.
39. Resolved, never to do any thing of which I so much question the lawfulness of, as that I intend, at the same time, to consider and examine afterwards, whether it be lawful or not; unless I as much question the lawfulness of the omission.
40. Resolved, to inquire every night, before I go to bed, whether I have acted in the best way I possibly could, with respect to eating and drinking. Jan. 7, 1723.
41. Resolved, to ask myself, at the end of every day, week, month and year, wherein I could possibly, in any respect, have done better. Jan. 11, 1723.
42. Resolved, frequently to renew the dedication of myself to God, which was made at my baptism; which I solemnly renewed, when I was received into the communion of the church; and which I have solemnly re-made this twelfth day of January, 1722-23.
43. Resolved, never, henceforward, till I die, to act as if I were any way my own, but entirely and altogether God' s; agreeable to what is to be found in Saturday, January 12, 1723.
44. Resolved, that no other end but religion, shall have any influence at all on any of my actions; and that no action shall be, in the least circumstance, any otherwise than the religious end will carry it. January 12, 1723.
45. Resolved, never to allow any pleasure or grief, joy or sorrow, nor any affection at all, nor any degree of affection, nor any circumstance relating to it, but what helps religion. Jan. 12 and 13, 1723.
46. Resolved, never to allow the least measure of any fretting uneasiness at my father or mother. Resolved to suffer no effects of it, so much as in the least alteration of speech, or motion of my eye: and to be especially careful of it with respect to any of our family.
47. Resolved, to endeavor, to my utmost, to deny whatever is not most agreeable to a good, and universally sweet and benevolent, quiet, peaceable, contented and easy, compassionate and generous, humble and meek, submissive and obliging, diligent and industrious, charitable and even, patient, moderate, forgiving and sincere temper; and to do at all times, what such a temper would lead me to; and to examine strictly, at the end of every week, whether I have done so. Sabbath morning. May 5, 1723.
48. Resolved, constantly, with the utmost niceness and diligence, and the strictest scrutiny, to be looking into the state of my soul, that I may know whether I have truly an interest in Christ or not; that when I come to die, I may not have any negligence respecting this to repent of. May 26, 1723.
49. Resolved, that this never shall be, if I can help it.
50. Resolved, I will act so as I think I shall judge would have been best, and most prudent, when I come into the future world. July 5, 1723.
51. Resolved, that I will act so, in every respect, as I think I shall wish I had done, if I should at last be damned. July 8, 1723.
52. I frequently hear persons in old age, say how they would live, if they were to live their lives over again: Resolved, that I will live just so as I can think I shall wish I had done, supposing I live to old age. July 8, 1723.
53. Resolved, to improve every opportunity, when I am in the best and happiest frame of mind, to cast and venture my soul on the Lord Jesus Christ, to trust and confide in him, and consecrate myself wholly to him; that from this I may have assurance of my safety, knowing that I confide in my Redeemer. July 8, 1723.
54. Whenever I hear anything spoken in conversation of any person, if I think it would be praiseworthy in me, Resolved to endeavor to imitate it. July 8, 1723.
55. Resolved, to endeavor to my utmost to act as I can think I should do, if, I had already seen the happiness of heaven, and hell torments. July 8, 1723.
56. Resolved, never to give over, nor in the least to slacken, my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be.
57. Resolved, when I fear misfortunes and adversities, to examine whether I have done my duty, and resolve to do it, and let the event be just as providence orders it. I will as far as I can, be concerned about nothing but my duty, and my sin. June 9, and July 13 1723.
58. Resolved, not only to refrain from an air of dislike, fretfulness, and anger in conversation, but to exhibit an air of love, cheerfulness and benignity. May 27, and July 13, 1723.
59. Resolved, when I am most conscious of provocations to ill nature and anger, that I will strive most to feel and act good-naturedly; yea, at such times, to manifest good nature, though I think that in other respects it would be disadvantageous, and so as would be imprudent at other times. May 12, July 11, and July 13.
60. Resolved, whenever my feelings begin to appear in the least out of order, when I am conscious of the least uneasiness within, or the least irregularity without, I will then subject myself to the strictest examination. July 4, and 13, 1723.
61. Resolved, that I will not give way to that listlessness which I find unbends and relaxes my mind from being fully and fixedly set on religion, whatever excuse I may have for it-that what my listlessness inclines me to do, is best to be done, etc. May 21, and July 13, 1723.
62. Resolved, never to do anything but duty, and then according to Ephesians 6:6-8, to do it willingly and cheerfully as unto the Lord, and not to man: knowing that whatever good thing any man doth, the same shall he receive of the Lord. June 25 and July 13, 1723.
63. On the supposition, that there never was to be but one individual in the world, at any one time, who was properly a complete Christian, in all respects of a right stamp, having Christianity always shining in its true luster, and appearing excellent and lovely, from whatever part and under whatever character viewed: Resolved, to act just as I would do, if I strove with all my might to be that one, who should live in my time. January 14 and July 13, 1723.
64. Resolved, when I find those ‹groanings which cannot be uttered (Romans 8:26), of which the Apostle speaks, and those breakings of soul for the longing it hath, of which the Psalmist speaks, Psalm 119:20, that I will promote them to the utmost of my power, and that I will not be weary of earnestly endeavoring to vent my desires, nor of the repetitions of such earnestness. July 23, and August 10, 1723.
65. Resolved, very much to exercise myself in this, all my life long, viz. with the greatest openness, of which I am capable of, to declare my ways to God, and lay open my soul to him: all my sins, temptations, difficulties, sorrows, fears, hopes, desires, and every thing, and every circumstance; according to Dr. Manton' s 27th Sermon on Psalm 119. July 26, and Aug.10 1723.
66. Resolved, that I will endeavor always to keep a benign aspect, and air of acting and speaking in all places, and in all companies, except it should so happen that duty requires otherwise.
67. Resolved, after afflictions, to inquire, what I am the better for them, what am I the better for them, and what I might have got by them.
68. Resolved, to confess frankly to myself all that which I find in myself, either infirmity or sin; and, if it be what concerns religion, also to confess the whole case to God, and implore needed help. July 23, and August 10, 1723.
69. Resolved, always to do that, which I shall wish I had done when I see others do it. August 11, 1723.
70. Let there be something of benevolence, in all that I speak. August 17, 1723.

What, then, does a good essay need?

Most of you said something about why the selected essays were good--now please make some suggestions about what a good essay needs.  If you see something someone else says that you don't agree with, argue with it--but mainly offer some clear suggestions on what makes for a good essay about literature.

Our Independent Reading Program

One of my hopes for this year is that much of our reading can be done independently, so that you can choose, within certain constraints, books that you are more likely to be interested in.  We will all read some things in common, and we will look at short passages from many, many authors, but the works you read in full will, I hope, be mostly ones that you choose on your own.

That does not mean that you can spend all of your time reading Tucker Max or the like.  During the first quarter, we are going to be studying American literature that was written before the end of the Civil War, so your independent reading books should have been written before 1865. There is a list below: you should spend some time browsing and reading before you pick a book to continue with.

Once you have selected a book, you should read it regularly.  Bring your book to class every day, since we will often spend some time reading in class.  When you finish one book, start another; those of you who are seriously interested in literature should have read two or three or more books on your own by the end of the quarter.

You will be graded mostly on regularity, and on completing a minimum of pages each week (to begin with, let’s say 80).  People who want to be A students will be expected to greatly exceed that minimum.  If you want to get a B, you should meet that minimum—and NEVER do other work during the reading time in class.  If you do so, you will be graded down severely.  Giving you reading time in class is a great gift for you and something of a risk for me.  Please make it be a risk that I want to keep taking.

The independent reading will be intensive over the first four weeks of the quarter, and then will be put a bit on the back burner (though we will still spend half an hour of class time each week reading independently).

·            (18^th century:)

·      Crevecoeur, Letters from an American Farmer

·      Rowlandson, Narrative of the Captivity…

·      Franklin, Autobiography

·      Equiano, Autobiography

·      Woolman, Journal           

·            (19^th century:)

·      Poe, stories

·      Melville, Moby Dick (or others)

·      Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin

·      Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, as Written By Herself

·      Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans (or others)

·      Charles Brockden Brown, Edgar Huntly (or others)

·      Susannah Rowson, Charlotte Temple

·      Washington Irving, Legend of Sleepy Hollow, etc.

·      Hawthorne, Twice-Told Tales (or others)

·      Thoreau, Walden

·      Emerson, Essays (start with “Self Reliance” and then ask me for other good ones)

Monday and Tuesday: Meet in Humanities Lab

On Monday (F) and Tuesday (E), please meet in the Humanities Lab--I think the room number is 383...

Read these good papers and comment on one of them

Your homework over the weekend is to read the two good papers about the poem you didn't write about, and write a comment on one of them.  In your comment, you could add to or argue with what the person said; but the main thing you should do is try to  explain what is good about the essay.  Papers are good for lots of different reasons--what are some things these papers did well?  Next week we will talk in class about what makes for good papers.  Remember--our first class next week is meeting in the Humanities lab.

F Block--Ben on 435

Emily Dickinson and Her Many Hyphens                                                                        \\\ By Ben Eggleston

Pick up Emily Dickinson’s Poem 435[1], and one can’t help but notice the hyphens. They are sprinkled liberally, even recklessly, throughout the poem. Every line has at least one extra-long dash taking the place of a comma, a period, or inserted where no punctuation would normally be found. They are a little jarring. Depending on one’s feelings regarding proactive punctuation, they could even be alarming. However haphazard they may seem, they occupy nearly half of 435’s real estate on the page, and any self-respecting student of literature should assume that a skilled artist such as Dickinson brings method to her madness. Not coincidentally, the poem itself deals with Reason (with a capital R) and Madness, and how the one is often found in the guise of the other. The hyphens, on closer examination, help unify the poem’s structure with its message, which can be summarized as follows: Often a thoughtful observer will find Reason in seemingly mad or senseless occurrences. And often the Majority will decide that something is logical and overflowing with Reason, and anyone who dares to point out the Madness that is being overlooked will be labeled Mad themselves, and “handled with a chain.” The humble hyphen, in the hands of a master poet, becomes very expressive in this poem. It adds to the message in a variety of ways. Specifically…

The dissection of the poem into hyphenated chunks is an agent of sedition in the reader’s mind. It has the potential to create suspicion regarding the sanity of the speaker.  It is not too much of a stretch to imagine the words coming in fits and starts to a madwoman incapable of sustaining coherent thought for more than a few words at a time. Were the insane speaker to do an oral presentation, perhaps the dashes would manifest as twitches and pauses taken to collect her thoughts. If Dickinson’s intent was actually to present the speaker as a little crazy, it’s a humorous touch. The poem’s dramatic cry, “The Majority labels me as insane whenever I disagree with them,” is undermined to ironic effect if the speaker is, in fact, insane.

The impression given by 435 is that the speaker is not on board with the Majority, and is one of those who find themselves being handled with a chain for their alternative lines of thinking. The interrupted nature of 435 (courtesy of the hyphen) could then be a metaphor: My poem is interrupted just like all my intellectual endeavors are interrupted by a narrow minded, judgmental Majority. In this case, the poem’s structure serves to add a note of protest to its somewhat resigned tone.

There is a hyphen at the end of the poem, which reads like this: “…and handled with a Chain—“ A hyphen is used in between text. One does not usually end something with a hyphen. This creates the suggestion that the speaker was unable to finish for some reason. Given the message that precedes it, the hyphenated ending gives rise to the eerie feeling that the speaker has been dragged of in chains before she could finish. This makes sense according to the rules of the poem:  Choose not to side with the Majority, and you will be handled with a chain. The speaker certainly made that choice, and now she must live with the consequences.

A close reading of 435 reveals that the enthusiastic distribution of hyphens is not random, or pointless, or done just to do something different; The hyphens pull their weight in the poem by variously supporting, undermining, or adding to the message, or even all at the same time, depending on one’s interpretation.

           

---

[1] As it is labeled in our class, anyway.

F Block--Sarah on 288

Sarah Fleming

9/8/11

Poem 288

In the entirety of Emily Dickinson’s poem 288, there is not a single period to be found.  The neglecting of any so-called common punctuation, such as the period or comma, fits in perfectly with the proclamation that she is Nobody and in that sense is unique—ending a sentence with a period would be too dull, too ordinary.  Instead, Dickinson relies solely on an abundance of exclamation points, frequent question marks, and short dashes that all contribute to the quirky rhythm of the poem.  The dash and the exclamation point in particular shape the tone and give it an oddly rhythmic and fragmented feel.  Dickinson’s use of these two punctuation marks not only alters the tone but also gives insight into the poet’s perspective and meaning.

The use of dashes gives the poem a peculiar rhythm that combines the rushed feel of thrill and the hesitancy of a speaker unsure of whether to continue or not.  As the poem begins, it seems that Dickinson, the self-pronounced Nobody, feels uncertain of whether or not she should confide in the reader, pausing before asking, “Are you — Nobody — too?”  (2) This sense of secrecy and hesitation continues into the rest of the first stanza, blending somewhat with incredulity at the prospect of finding another Nobody.  The significance of the dashes changes as they become more frequent.  As Dickinson transitions into her thoughts on the ideas of being a Somebody, she writes, “How dreary — to be — Somebody!  / How public — like a Frog —”  (5-6) Here, dashes provide a paused nature that fragments the lines into shorter phrases; this gives the poem a more choppy and broken up feeling.  It is as if Dickinson is speaking as she thinks, blurting out short bursts of ideas and then pausing to order her thoughts before continuing.  As she goes on, she begins to feel more comfortable with her fellow Nobody and gains momentum, speaking for longer durations before pausing.  Throughout the poem, these dashes simultaneously convey a sense of secrecy and one of spontaneity.

The exclamation points used in this poem are put to a variety of uses, all of which provide the poem with an upbeat yet powerful tone.  Exclamation points are, by nature, indicative of strong emotion.  Dickinson’s frequent usage of such emphatic punctuation illustrates her enthusiasm and thrill of finding a second nobody to whom she can divulge her thoughts.  All of her ideas are punctuated with an exclamation point, indicating her excitement about what she has to say; it also seems as if she is somewhat shocked and thrilled herself about what she is saying—as if she is first realizing her ideas as she says them.  The exclamation points also suggest the poet’s defiance and pride.  She proudly states, “I’m Nobody! Who are you?”  (1) The exclamation point implies that Dickinson is proud of being a Nobody and embraces her non-identity despite social norms and expectations.  This defiance grows as she continues, rejecting common ideas of identity and its undoubted public nature.  She confesses her idea to the reader: “ How dreary — to be — Somebody!”  (5) In just one line, Dickinson dismisses the idea of being Somebody—something that is rarely second-guessed or questioned—as dull and ordinary.  In addition, the use of the exclamation point serves as a warning.  Upon discovering a second Nobody, Dickinson cautions, “Don’t tell! they’d advertise — you know!”  (4) This remark indicates the fear the poet has of being discovered as a Nobody and publicized, thereby depriving her of her Nobody status.  Dickinson feels strongly about protecting her status as a Nobody and uses exclamation points to make the tone both fearful and vigilant.  The exclamation marks in the poem convey a variety of emotions of the poet, all of them passionate and strong.

The poet uses both dashes and exclamation points to contribute to the tone of the poem, each serving several uses, some of them contradictory.  It is not simply the individual punctuation marks that provide the poem with a sense of contradiction, however: the combination of the two poses even more of a problem.  Dickinson’s usage of the dash and the exclamation point presents a clear dissonance in tone.  While the exclamation point indicates an undoubted sentiment of excitement and even pride, the dash gives the impression that the poet—or speaker—is somewhat undecided as to whether she can trust the reader or not.  This odd juxtaposition of the hesitant dash and the excited exclamation point creates an interesting discontinuity that carries out into the general meaning and interpretation of the poem as well.

F Block--Stefan's paper on 288

Stefan Mesarovich
Mr Colburn
Emily Dickinson poem essay

    Emily Dickinson wrote her main body of work during a tumultuous time in American history. The civil war was ravishing all aspects of the country, from the main areas of fighting to even the quietest towns in Massachusetts. Emily grew up as a child of of privilege, being in one of the wealthier families in her home town of Amherst, Massachusetts.  She spent her childhood years at a private school in Amherst before attending seminary for a brief time before she returned home. Around this time she began to sequester herself. First she started to only take short walks to the lake near her home. Then slowly she started to only stay within the confines of her home. She would only meet with guest for brief periods of time, and most of her relationships were via letters and other forms of indirect communication. During this time she was writing her poems in secret, only having very close family or friends knowing of her poems. After her death her younger sister discovered over 2000 poems in her room. Dickinson was one of the most prolific poets of the nineteenth century.
    During her life Dickinson was only published in one newspaper and at that only about a dozen times. This small amount of publications wasn't from her lack of trying she extensively tried to have her work published in the early part of her life, but most papers wouldn't except a women, or her poetry on the basis of its unconventional manner. She would later stop attempting to get her work brought to the public. She wanted to seclude herself. She wanted to remain in her own world. This idea of being alone appears in the poem. She is proud of her position as an outsider, proud of her anonymity. The poem emphasizes her mentality of staying in this small world with which she has total control. Her poetry generally lets you into fragments of her mind and how she perceived the world, this poem especially shows us that she liked to remain hidden, it was not the fault of some mental illness. She chose the be alone with her thoughts and with her mind.
    Emily Dickinson is one of the most interesting poets in the nineteenth century because of her unusual writing. Her minds grasp on the world around appears in her writing. She has short lines like she is making observations on the world. It feels almost as if she is critiquing the idea of social normality by even suggesting that we have to be known, that we have to give our names as a formality. We give away the one thing that separates us from others. Our name is the only identifier that we have, we give each other names so that we know who we are. Our name carry's weight, it has an essence behind it, it is our title, the one thing that when heard brings forth our image. We spend time with our names, we decide how our name should be presented, this is life. When someone says another persons name that is who they are. Emily is disgusted by the fact that we just give away our names. That we spend so much defining who we want to be and what our name should stand for that the formality of telling everyone you meet your name disturbs Dickinson. She wrote this poem to comment on how society during her time interacted with each other.

F Block--Jacob Dana on 435

Jacob Dana

American Lit

            Poem #435 by Emily Dickinson was written in 1862. In America, this was a time of extreme turmoil and violence, highlighted by the Civil War. During these uncertain times, many people began to question the very society they lived in. It was brother against brother. Never before had America gone through such a large internal conflict, and needless to say this stirred up some strong political views throughout the country. This is why Emily Dickinson’s poem #435 is describing her feelings on the American Civil War. 

            During the Civil War, it was commonplace, practically necessary, for any and every average member of society to go off and fight for either the Confederacy or the Union. When Dickinson says, “Much Madness is divinest Sense,” it can be interpreted as her explaining that, yes, it’s extremely dangerous and mad for these young men to be fighting for their lives against their own countrymen, but it’s for a good cause, and it certainly is valiant. Dickinson is saying that these men are mad in a certain sense of the word, but they are the ones who really understand things, and have what she calls, “Much Sense.” And what she refers to as, “the Majority” in this interpretation would have to be that most of the men would be fighting in this war.  In this case, she’d be talking about the Union soldiers only. The Union Army was also larger than the Confederate, so they’d be the overall majority in the war. These men have to have the “starkest Madness” to be able to survive this extremely difficult time. One definition of ‘stark’ is “impossible to avoid,” meaning that these soldiers weren’t necessarily “mad” on their own account, they were needed to fight this war. It was not a choice of theirs. The other definition of ‘stark’ is “physically strong, powerful.” Using both of these definitions, Dickinson is strongly defending the Union soldiers. 

            Also relating to the Civil War could be Dickinson’s use of the line “In this, as All, prevail.” Here, she could be pointing out with the capitalized “All” that this country needs to come together as a whole to figure out this problem between the Union and the Confederacy. This Civil War can only be solved as one country, one Union, needing those southern states not to secede. Based on this, she would definitely be against the secession of the southern states. With her next line, saying that if a person agrees with this theory, they are sane. Therefore this would mean that the “straightway dangerous” people were the Southerners attempting to secede from the Union. In the Northeast, namely Massachusetts, her birthplace, it’s assumed that Dickinson would be in support of the Union side of the war. So, naturally, she’d say that the only “sane” people would be the ones on the Union side.

            The last line of the poem, “And handled with a chain,” talks about those “dangerous” people who “demurred” from the Union. This detail highlights the capture of Confederate soldiers during the war. Here, they’d be held in chains in a prisoner-of-war camp. Even for such a short poem, she doesn’t sound too sympathetic for the Confederate side. She could be expressing previously unseen political fire using her most powerful weapon of all, the poem.

            Emily Dickinson was truly a historian in this sense. This simple eight-line poem really is almost her rhetoric, or her views on the Civil War as it was happening. As she was such an introverted person, this could be one of few documents that truly describe her political views. 

E Block--Daniel on 435

I typed this in, so typos are mine...  --EC

The Madness of Conformity                                             Daniel Krane 9/8/11

In Emily Dickinson's poem "435," Dickinson warns of the twistedness of society, and the dangers of conformity.  Dickinson primarily uses two major techniques to drive home these points--parallelism and reversal.

In the beginning of the poem, Dickinson sets up the groundwork of discord, writing, "Much Madness is divinest Sense--/... Much Sense--the starkest Madness--" (lines 1, 3).  Clearly, Dickinson reworks the first line, and almost reflects the sentence, as if in a mirror.  THe reconstruction of the sentence, though, drastically changes the meaning of the line.  The lines call into question what is truly "mad" and what is "sense"? What is dismissed as folly or "madness" can often be the wisest choice, while what is commonly accepted as the best option or "sense" can truly be the wrong option.  YEt that much is plainly obvious from the text.  It is through Dickinson's strategy of reversal that a much stronger indictment of society comes out.  By having these two opposing standards of what is good and what is bad switched, Dickinson shows how literally backwards society is.  And yet, Dickinson goes further in engraining this message of reversal into these sentences.  In Line 3, she imbues the sound with reflection too--starting with an m-word and an s-word and ending with an s-word and then an m-word.  Through word choice, as well as sounds, Dickinson presents a world where everything is inverted and wrong.

Dickinson also manages to express meaning through parallelism.  The poem divides itself ino two parts--the first (lines 1-3), where "a discerning Eye" sees what is wrong in society, while the second (lines 4-8) has a "Majority" (line 4) pronouncing judgment on people.  These two views are paired together as a rhyme ("eye" and "Majority"); both are short, similar lines, and yet the Majority perspective is clearly dominant, covering 5 lines of the poem to the Eye's 3.  Dickinson suggests that in poetry, as in life, the majority rules despite how misguided they might be.  Further parallelism exists in lines 6 and 7, "Assent--and you are sane--/Demur--you're straightway dangerous--".  From the first words being opposites, to the use of two dashes in the same places, these two sentences were clearly modeled as pairs, sort of like two sides of the same coin.  On the "good" side, if you fall in line, you are approved of in society.  If you don't, then you are "dangerous."  These sentences themselves conform to a pattern, both (from the perspective of the "Majority") promoting conformism through words and structure.  And yet, the 6th and 8th lines are paired together in a rhyme scheme, "Assent--and you are sane--/...And handled with a Chain--". Sane and Chain are directly connected, showing that those who are "sane" (who assent to the general will, or conform) are willingly enslaving themselves by holding back on's true feelings.  ANd as the closing line in the poem, this is the message Dickinson chooses to strike home most of all--that, in the end, conformism only harms yourself.

Dickinson lives in a confused world.  She pleads for people not to fool themselves with popular "assent" just to fit in, because in the end, it is only the "discerning Eye" who can see things for what they truly are.  That eye rests inside everyone,  within free will.

E block--Danielle on 288

Danielle Balanov

                                                                                288; Personalized.

            Like so many of Emily Dickinson’s majestically beautiful poems, 288 develops deeper ideas and meanings than just the words on the page. In this instance, the poem speaks to the notions of seclusion and keeping to oneself, which compare very similarly to feelings felt on the very first days of school.  In the poem 288, references and meanings in the poem relate to and remind the reader of their first days of school by exemplifying making friends, staying out of the social limelight, and maintaining a reputation. While the poem itself was clearly not meant to be written about school, it portrays the same sort of social environment and situations that can be found at school. This poem starts off with Dickinson referring to herself as a ‘Nobody’. She writes, “I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you- Nobody- too?”. This first line mirrors ones introduction to others. The dashes in the wording paints a feeling of uncertainty which is often felt when meeting new people. This uncertainty exemplifies the fear of being shut down or rejected as one might be when dealing with new groups of people, so much like in school. These lines can be interpreted as the very first greeting and the very first conversation you may have in school. It’s a chance to speak about yourself, because prior to an introduction, a person might as well be a nobody. As well as this concept of introduction and opening oneself up to others, this poem also speaks to the social limelight in school. It generally speaks of its negative impacts and the fact that the social mainstream is not somewhere one would want to be. When Dickinson writes, “Then there’s a pair of us? Don’t tell! They’d advertise- you know”, she’s speaking right to this notion. When someone has finally found a legitimate friend in school, you should be eager to get out of the middle of any sort of gossip. “They’d advertise”, is so directly relative to idle gossip and the idea that everyone knows everything about everyone else. Dickinson wants to maintain some sort of secrecy about her life, away from scandalous chitchat. Saying “Don’t tell!” indicates how much she doesn’t want even a little sliver of her personal life to get out in public, even if it’s as small as finding another Nobody. Finally, Dickinson’s poem relates to the connections of school in terms of maintaining a reputation. She writes about those who are “Somebody”. She writes about how public and engorged in reputation people can be. Dickinson writes, “How Dreary – to be- Somebody! How public- like a Frog, To tell one’s name- the livelong June- To an admiring bog!” as her last stanza. In this text, the Frogs, croaking and loud and the least bit reserved represent the somebodies. The people who are somebody have no desire to hold back. In school, these somebodies can be found at the top of the social chain. They are people who are submersed in their egos and statuses. “How public”, she says; so open without the littlest interest in privacy. Dickinson does not seem to understand how people like this can be. In school, there are those exact types of people with no interest or intention of keeping a private life. The croaking frogs drown in their bogs of idle gossip. Overall, Dickinson’s poem establishes a pretty insecure and low-key vibe. She doesn’t want to be well-known or talked about; she’s alright being a Nobody. This poem mirrors and reflects experiences in school that present the same type of message that Dickinson is trying to convey. From making friends and maintaining a reputation, Nobodies are Nobodies, whether it’s in school or written by Emily Dickinson.

E block--James on 435

James Wronoski

9/8/2011

E-Block

Making sense of “Much Madness is Divinest Sense”

            The influence of a writer’s upbringing often foretells who the writer will become and what his or her personal writing style will be. There is no situation where this is more evident than in the case of American poet, Emily Dickinson. In her early life, Dickinson was exposed to the flaws in the authoritarian rule that men imposed on women in the nineteenth century. Her father, Edward Dickinson, firmly believed in the nineteenth century notion that women, regardless of class or intellect, were limited inherently by their gender. In the mind of Edward Dickinson, being the man of the house meant ruling the family with an iron fist especially when it came to Emily and her mother. In Emily’s childhood she witnessed the power that her father exercised over her mother, writing that when her father spoke her mother “trembled, obeyed and was silent”. Despite the fact that Edward Dickinson held a tyrannical rule over his wife, Emily revered Edward and had untold respect for him. Emily’s upbringing left her in awe of her father while igniting a passionate resentment towards the male dictatorship of the mid-1800s. Emily’s struggles with female oppression molded her into one of American Literature’s greatest poets.

            At first glance Dickinson’s poem, “Much Madness is Divinest Sense”, seems too brief to hold any deep meaning but when the reader can understand who Emily Dickinson was, it is easy to draw conclusions about the poem’s meaning. When this poem is viewed from the standpoint of Emily Dickinson it is quite simple to make divinest sense of the poem’s madness. This poem is Dickinson’s commentary on the male dominated society that she lived in during the mid-1800s. In line one when Dickinson talks about madness, madness is referring to the fact that in the 19^th century, oppression of women was quite acceptable and even expected. That is why Dickinson says that madness is divinest sense; when she says sense, she means to say that it is the accepted social standard, not that it truly makes sense for women to be oppressed. In a way, Dickinson is fiercely rejecting the ideas of people like her father who put limitations on women, especially intelligent and educated women like her. In the second and third lines Dickinson specifies that it is only to the discerning eye that madness is sensible which is somewhat ironic when it is clear that anyone who believes that the oppression of women is sensible or justified must be ignorant. Then in the next line when Dickinson says that it is the majority that believes this, she is saying that no one attempts to combat the injustices that are done unto women in that time period therefore it is the majority of people who believe this form of sexism to be acceptable. From her point of view, people simply accepted the madness of this injustice as a part of life.

            In the final three lines, Dickinson concludes sarcastically that people in society who adhere to the status quo and accept that oppression is an inevitable aspect of life are sane, while those who make an effort to fight for equality against the male dictatorship are deemed dangerous and unfit for social interaction. These lines are in a way making reference to the fact that Dickinson’s own sanity was constantly called into question. By connecting the fact that society viewed her as insane to the fact that people who stand up against male tyranny are viewed in that same light, one can conclude with certainty that Dickinson is siding with those who combat the social injustice of sexism in the 19^th century.

            Through-out the poem, the theme of fighting injustice towards women is paramount. This is quite obvious if we are simply to look at the evidence in Emily Dickinson’s personal life and her relationship with Edward Dickinson. From that relationship stemmed an idea; the idea that the status of women in American culture is not set and that if oppression is met head-on, with strong opposition, it can be stopped. Dickinson expressed this idea with zeal in “Much Madness is Divinest Sense” and she argued her point successfully.