Page:The Life and Letters of Emily Dickinson (1924).pdf/135

Rh in this world through her written words, long animating the quiet performance of daily routine by the white-robed little poet-philosopher, mystic, flitting about the old house under the tall pines. That the verdict of the world would have been Treason, had they acted otherwise, has been abundantly proved.

They have all gone that same green path she took, now, and it remains for the last living member of her own family to submit Emily's work to the final judgment of others, and her life, as far as it concerns others, as a beautiful inspiration. For which may her shy soul pardon the revelation; may it never be a betrayal to her spirit, still so vivid and real that to grieve her would be the supreme act of blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, which truly was her guest on this earth. Wherever she is, whatever she knows, may she know this!

The following appreciation, written by her brother's wife at the time of Emily Dickinson's death, for the "Springfield Republican," was requested by Colonel Higginson for the introduction to the first volume of her poems, but was withheld, and remains to be the last confirming witness of a contemporary.

The death of Miss Emily Dickinson, daughter of the late Edward Dickinson, at Amherst on Saturday, makes another sad inroad on the small circle so long occupying the old family mansion. It was for a long generation overlooked by death, and one passing in and out there thought of old-fashioned times, when parents and children grew up and passed maturity together, in lives of singular uneventfulness unmarked by sad or joyous crises. Very few in the village, except among older inhabitants, knew Miss Emily personally, although the facts of her seclusion and her intellectual brilliancy were familiar Amherst traditions.