A Clock stopped—

“A Clock Stopped—” is a discussion on the hubris of a human’s belief that their life is in their own hands. Control over death through either science, religion, or circumstance is not possible, the speaker here implies. Rather, the Supreme Being—the “Him” (Line 18) of the last line—will always choose when the clock will stop and whether it will be revived.

To begin the poem, the speaker notes “A clock stopped—” (Line 1) but specifies this is not the clock in the home, clarifying it is “Not the Mantel’s” (Line 2). The location of the clock is unspecified, but the idea of the contrast put forth is that the timepiece is a larger, more epic clock. Since clocks have long been symbolic of the passage of time and the ambiguity of fate, this becomes metaphorically indicative of the human lifespan. The stoppage indicates a sense that a death has occurred, a cessation that cannot be undone.

This is shown by the fact that the clock the speaker references cannot be fixed. Even “Geneva’s farthest skill / Can’t put the puppet bowing / That just now dangled still—” (Lines 3-5). Most clocks at the time were made in Switzerland, but not even the best Swiss clockmaker with the utmost “skill” (Line 3) can fix the broken mechanism of the speaker’s clock.

Some have seen this as an allusion to the Protestant religion of Calvinism as some versions show Line 4 to read, “Cant put the puppet bowing” (Line 4), referring to hypocritical religious talk. Calvinism is connected to both clock-making and to Dickinson’s life. In the 1500s, reformist John Calvin “banned the wearing of jewelry [and] Geneva’s jewelers and goldsmiths were faced with destitution [. . . however] unlike jewelry, a watch was a necessary item—making watchmaking acceptable” (“Tracking the Origin of The Swiss Clockmaking Industry.” Hamilton Jewelers, 2015). Geneva then became noted as the home of the finest clocks in the world. Some of these clocks were quite elaborate, often inlaid with gold, and incorporated figures of wildlife, people, or ships. The reference to Geneva indicates that the clock in the poem is most likely a Swiss clock, a type that proceeded from a very specific religious moment.

In the 1840s, religious revivals were popular in New England, including Dickinson’s hometown of Amherst. Many of her friends and family become full members of the Calvinist church, but Dickinson did not. While remaining spiritual—many of her poems deal with spiritual subjects of death, God, and the afterlife—Dickinson said in a letter, “I feel that the world holds a predominant place in my affections. I do not feel that I could give up all for Christ, were I called to die” (Emily Dickinson Museum). Some critics have suggested that this poem is a subtle criticism of the teachings of Calvinism and perhaps alludes to Dickinson’s complex views of religion and the answers it provided regarding sure entrance into Heaven.

The clock cannot be fixed by the watchmaker, and the automated “puppet” (Line 4) has now “dangled still” (Line 5). That the clock has been stopped by a Supreme Being’s hand, and is now exempt from human tinkering, is shown in the description of “[a]n awe came on the Trinket!” (Line 6), showing how a permanent hush fell over the timepiece. “Awe” (Line 6) is a state that can be seen as a reverential feeling either of wonder or fear and connected to being in the presence of a supreme entity, whether natural or supernatural. That this is a pivotal moment of finality is show in the descriptions of the physical stopping of the mechanism. The upright “Figures” (Line 7), who used to “bow” (Line 4) and stand up right again, now “dangle” (Line 5) and “hunch” (Line 7) helplessly.

The last moments of the clock’s working are shown in the process of the hands that “quivered out of Decimals” (Line 8), slowing by fractions before landing “into Degreeless noon” (Line 9). The clock stops at 12 for infinity after its few last twitches of working order. That this is a permanent state is corroborated in the next image, “It will not stir for Doctors— / This Pendulum of snow” (Lines 10-11). The weight that makes the mechanism move is now frozen and no longer swings. The idea that it cannot be revived by medical attention suggests that human hands cannot make the heart of the patient beat again. Even though the “Shopman” (Line 12) urges it to “stir” (Line 10), it will not restart. Here, the tinkers of life—watchmakers, medical professionals, and “shop[men]”—cannot restart the clock or urge it back into being. Religion, medicine, and persuasion all have equal results.

All efforts are met with a resounding “No” (Line 13) from the hands of the clock, both the “Gilded pointers” (Line 14) that tell the minutes and the “Seconds slim” (Line 15). The clock itself indicates that these human beings cannot second guess Fate’s design. The human healer’s life is filled with “Decades of Arrogance” (Line 16), assuming life will continue as they know it. Instead, the “Dial life” (Line 17), or the daily routine, has now ended, and the clock is now possessed by the “Him” (Line 18) of the afterlife. There is no going back.