All language subtitles for Dickinson.S02E10.You.cannot.put.a.Fire.out.1080p.ATVP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.Atmos.H.264-TOMMY

Hi.

It's a lovely day for a christening.

I don't know. Something's not quite right.

What do you mean?

Maybe it's all this John Brown business.
I don't know.

I had a bad dream last night.

I thought we had fun last night.

I'm glad we worked things out, baby.

Me too.

So now you can say goodbye
to your whole family,

because we're moving to New Orleans.

-Wait. What?
-We can talk about this later.

It's kind of you to help Jane out today.

She asked me to be the baby's godfather.
And as she's a widow, it's my duty.

Of course.

Where is Emily?

At home, I imagine.
She doesn't usually come to church.

You know, I still haven't seen her
since her poem was published.

It's like she's hiding from me.

Yes, well...

I'd leave her alone if I were you.

But...

I have things I need to say to her.

I imagine she knows them already.

There's Jane.

-Time to do this thing.
-Hi.

Don't let people forget.
You're still my husband.

No one here
is under any illusions about that.

Hi.

Isn't he a sweetie?

Whoa. Slow down.

Hey, Maggie. What's new?

You know.

Just a quiet Sunday.

Enjoying me day of rest.

I never rest on Sundays.
Still news on Sundays, you know.

News every day of the week.

Man, I am starving.

Do you have anything I can snack on?

There might be some plums in the kitchen.

Do you have any roast beef?

I'll go check.

Would you like to take your coat off?

No, I'm not staying long.

I just wanted to grab a quick bite
before I hit the road.

I was just hoping to say a quick goodbye
to the Dickinsons.

Well, most of them aren't here.

They're all at the church
for the christening.

There's one.

Mr. Bowles, I need to talk to you.

You're acting strange. Is everything okay?

Mr. Bowles,
would you follow me into the parlor?

I'll go scrounge up some grub.

What's going on?

There's something I need to ask you.

Okay.

So, why are you talking to the wall?

Because I'm protecting my eyes.

My eyes are very sensitive,

and I'm afraid that if I look at you,
I might go blind.

Weird.

Mr. Bowles,
do you still have my books of poems?

The ones I gave you?

Yeah, of course I do.
I got them right in my satchel.

Planning to read through all of them again
on the train.

I mean, your poems are first-class.
You know that.

They really pop.

I fear that I shall have to request
that you give them all back.

What did you say?

I said, politely...

that you must give me my poems back.

-Give them back?
-Yes.

Immediately.

Okay, I get it.

I've been your editor long enough by now.

This is another one of your games,

where you pretend
like you don't wanna be published.

It's virtue signaling. False modesty.

It's cute, but...

you really don't have to do this anymore.

I am not playing a game.

Okay.

Mr. Bowles, I have decided
with much agonizing and struggle

that I do not, in fact,
wish to be published.

Therefore, I request that--

No. No, I demand
that you give me back my poems.

Emily.

Your poem was a hit.

You're about to become
world-famous overnight.

People love the one we published,
and they're already begging for more.

That's a lie.

-Some people didn't love it. I heard them.
-No, it's not. It's better than that.

It got under their skin.

It made them think.
It made them ask questions.

It was provocative. It got reactions.

Which is all you can ever hope for
as a writer.

Emily, I'm telling you.

You're on your way to becoming the biggest
poet in New England, possibly America.

And I'm just trying to help you
stop getting in your own way.

The only thing
getting in my way right now is you.

Ouch, that hurts.

Give me back my poems.

My newspaper empire, it is expanding.

And you can be a part of that.
Don't you wanna help build an empire?

I had an empire!

It was right up here.

And then you stole it from me.

You...

and Sue.

So this is about Sue.

I don't know what you mean by that.

You know about us, don't you?

I see what's going on here.

You found out about me and Sue,
and now you're jealous.

You thought I was flirting with you
or something.

Leading you on.

Well, I wasn't, okay?

I was only ever interested in your work,

which is what you
should be focused on too.

Don't let your emotions
get in the way of your career.

That is always what happens to women.

I need my poems.

No, Emily. You need me.

See, a lot of people
wouldn't have even bothered with you.

But I have, because I understand you.

You're weird, and you're warped,
and you're sick, and you're strange,

but I understand that, as a woman,
your art comes from all of that.

Now, it would sadly be easy
for the whole world to ignore you,

but I won't let them.

No one would pay attention to you

if it wasn't for me
pointing them in your direction.

Trust me.

You have no power without me.

One day, you will look back
at all of this, and you will thank me.

I'm gonna ask you one more time...

give me back my poems.

No.

How dare you.

You gave them to me, and now they're mine.

You can't have them back.

Fine.

If you won't give them back,
I'll have to take them back.

No, you know what? It's too late.

What?

I already sent one in to the office.

Later today, it will be in print.

Sorry.

-Don't touch my satchel!
-I'm taking them back!

-They're mine!
-They're not yours.

I got 'em.

-Give them back.
-Do you want 'em?

-Give them back!
-Come and get them.

Give them back!

Hey!

Go! Go!

-Give me back my poems.
-No.

Yes!

Give them back to me!

You are the devil!

I am a feminist!

And today, we are here to celebrate

the birth of young William Wilkinson II

-and to bless him...
-She looks amazing.

...on his lifelong journey
on a path of faith.

Stop!

His mother, Jane, is here with us today,

along with his godfather,
Austin Dickinson,

who will be standing in for
the dearly departed William Wilkinson I.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a grandchild?

Although death
has separated us physically,

faith and love have bound us eternally.

Though we cannot see you,
William Wilkinson I, we know you are here.

Look what I got.

Nabbed 'em from his little briefcase

while the two of you
was down there a-squabbling.

Maggie.

Thank you. How did you pull this off?

A good maid knows how to be invisible.

Thank you. Thank you.

One fell out.

Lord, sanctify this water,

and grant that this child
may receive the fullness of thy grace.

Austin Dickinson, by consenting
to be godfather of this child,

you are acknowledging
your love of his mother, Jane,

as well as your love of the child himself.

You are making a commitment

that this child shall never
go unloved in this world.

Do you accept your role
as godfather of this child?

-I do.
-Then let us pray.

Lord, bless this child, and keep him safe.

Amen.

-Amen.
-Amen.

Do you smell smoke?

Emily.

So, you know who I am.

Yes.

Yes, you're Frazar. Frazar Stearns.

You know who I am,
and you know how I'm gonna die.

Yes.

-In the war.
-In the war.

Seeking glory. Seeking fame.

I'll leave my home...

and my family...

and go into battle.

Yes.

And then the bullet will hit you...

like a bird.

And so Frazar Stearns will die...

to be remembered.

Might have been better to be Nobody.

I understand.

And I will not make the same mistake.

You have wars to fight, Emily Dickinson.

But you must fight them in secret.

Alone.

Unseen.

You must give all the glory to yourself
and ask for nothing from the world.

You must be a nobody.

The bravest, most brilliant
nobody who ever existed.

You cannot put a Fire out -

A Thing that can ignite

Lavinia. Come, sweetie.

Can go itself without a Fan -

Abby!

Upon the slowest night -

Excuse me--

You got it. You got it.

Go away.

Emily.

I came to see you.

Get out.

Emily.

We have to talk.

I don't wanna talk to you.
I don't even wanna look at you.

Come to think of it,
I don't ever wanna see you again.

Give me a chance
to explain my side of things.

What is there to explain?

I can see everything perfectly clearly.

No. There are things that you can't see.

You have every right to be angry with me.

I'm not asking you for your permission.

I know you cared about him.

Cared about him?

You pushed me to care about him.

You practically forced me to!

It's like you wanted me
to fall in love with him. But why?

When you were the one
that loved him the whole time.

I didn't love him.

-I never did.
-You're a liar.

-I don't give a shit about that man.
-Then why did you sleep with him?

And why...

why did you keep telling me
to give him my poems?

Because I couldn't handle
the things your poems made me feel.

Your poems are too powerful.
They're like snakes.

They slither into me,
and they coil around my heart,

and they squeeze me until I can't breathe.

They are glittering and venomous,
and they bite.

I got scared, Emily.

Of you, of the way that you grip me,
of the way that you poison me.

When I married Austin
and we became sisters,

the only bond between us was your words.

You started writing so much, and I was
the only one who ever saw any of it.

I got overwhelmed.

So I thought if I pushed you
a little, then...

If you pushed me away,
I'd become someone else's problem?

Well, guess what?

I'm not your problem anymore, Sue.

You can go back to your perfect parlor
with your fancy dresses,

and be as exquisitely empty as you like,

because I will never
make you feel anything again.

And without me...

What?

Without me...

I don't think you know
how to have feelings.

Okay.

Shut the door on your way out.

You're right.

Right about what?

The only time I feel things
is when I'm with you.

"She dealt her pretty words like Blades
How glittering they shone"

I pushed you towards him because
I wanted to escape what I was feeling.

And I slept with him
'cause I didn't wanna feel it.

There is so much
that I don't want to feel, Emily.

And the biggest thing
that I don't want to feel--

Is what?

Is what?

What is it, Sue? Just say it!

Is that I'm in love with you.

I don't believe you.

It's true.

It's not true.

Nothing you say to me is true!

You're not even Sue anymore.

You're a new person, a fake person.

I don't even recognize you,
and everything you say to me is a lie!

Emily, I love you.

Stop lying to me!

I love you!

And I felt you in the library,
because you're always with me.

I can't escape from you,

because the only true thing
I will ever feel is my love for you.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Girls. Are you okay?

You weren't responsible for this,
were you?

Yikes.

Well...

nobody needs to know about this.

It's the 1850s.
Things burn down all the time.

Okay, let's go home.

Grab a seat wherever you can.

Hats, coats, and jackets
can go in the library.

There's hot tea brewing.
We have plenty of food for everyone.

And I have a box set up over there
for donations.

If anyone can give anything,
it would be much appreciated.

That old church? It served us well.

Blessed be its memory.

It will take time, but we can rebuild.

Amherst will come together,
as we always have,

and we will overcome
this great misfortune.

Well said.

I'm proud of our son.

Where is his wife?

Don't you think she ought to be
by his side at a time like this?

Austin, where is Sue?

I do hope we didn't leave her
burning in the church.

She's off living her life, I imagine,
just as I'm living mine.

So, what is this insanity you're spouting
about us moving to New Orleans?

Nola, babe. Nola.

I don't care what you call it,
I'm not moving there.

Yes, you are.

I sent a telegram to a dude I know
down there in real estate, Joseph Lyman.

Joseph Lyman, my ex?

That's right.
I forgot you know that dude. Lyman.

Lyman!

Great guy. Wired him all my money.

He got us a house.

Joseph Lyman sold us a house?

Well, it's more of a shack.

You spent all of your money
on a shack in New Orleans

and now you expect me to just
drop everything and come with you?

Well, yeah.

It's the 19th century. You're my wife.

I make the decisions.

Okay, have you been listening
to anything that I've been saying to you

this whole time?

Babe, Nola is so chill.
You're gonna love it.

There is a civil war starting.
I am not moving to Louisiana.

I'd never see my family again.

Not to mention,
I'd be on the wrong side of history.

Hey, the South's not all bad.

The plantation system,
it's more like an aristocracy--

Slavery is bad, Ship.

I thought you were all about
keeping an open mind.

Not in this case.

Come on. It'll be charming.

You'll be a Southern belle...

I am a shrewd Yankee witch.

-Respect that.
-I don't get it.

You want me to leave you here

and move down to Nola
and marry some cotton king's daughter?

No, you-- you can marry me,

we just have to stay in Amherst
and keep things loose and nonexclusive.

Oh, my--

Forget it.

Forget it, man!

I'm already in way over my head
on this shack.

What-- Ship--

Am I making a mistake?

Yes.

Absolutely.

He wanted to marry you, Lavinia.

Now you're gonna end up
a full-blown spinster.

Same sheep, different day.

Ship.

Okay.

-You go to New Orleans.
-Nola.

Marry someone else.

Have kids, all that shit.

But you know, and I know...

Yeah?

...that I will always be the most
interesting girl you've ever loved.

Our church.

Our poor, beautiful church.

Mrs. Dickinson.

I dreamed this last night.

What?

-What are you talking about?
-I saw this happen.

The church burning down. I had a vision.

It came to me.

I've seen all this before.

No, you're imagining things.

No. I dreamed about it last night,
and now it's real.

Must be some terrible sign, a bad omen.

All this talk of signs and visions.

You sound as crazy as Emily.

Or maybe she's not as crazy as we thought.

Oh, my God.

A narrow Fellow in the Grass

Occasionally rides -

You may have met him? Did you not

His notice instant is

The Grass divides as with a Comb,

A spotted shaft is seen,

And then it closes at your Feet

And opens further on -

He likes a Boggy Acre

A Floor too cool for Corn -

But when a Boy and Barefoot

I more than once at Noon

Have passed I thought a Whip Lash

Unbraiding in the Sun

When stooping to secure it

It wrinkled and was gone -

Several of nature's People

I know, and they know me

I feel for them a transport

Of Cordiality

But never met this Fellow

Attended or alone

Without a tighter Breathing

And Zero at the Bone

I could die happy right now.

Not me.

I feel sorry for the dead today.

Emily?

Yeah?

When I'm with you...

that is the only time I feel alive.

That's all I need.

That's all I've ever needed.

To make you feel that way.

I write for you, my Sue.

I write for you.

For you alone.

That's enough.

I will never let go of you again.