( The Kitchen Maid, Diego Velazquez, National Gallery of Ireland)
There are two versions of this painting. The one in Ireland was viewed by Levertov shortly after its restoration, and the bringing to life of the maid and recovery of the details over the maid's shoulder of the depiction of Jesus and the disciples at supper in Emmaus. Is it a window from the kitchen to the table, or a painting of the biblical scene at Emmaus? Velazquez does a similar thing with Martha and Mary, leaving the viewer to collapse the time between the original Emmaus event and the encounter of the maid with the Emmaus Christ.
Here, in this painting, the black Moorish kitchen-girl has her head tilted, as one overhearing a conversation coming from behind. The artist has captured the moments of dawning understanding and recognition, and therefore the servant girl's coming to faith. The expression of perplexity, surprise, and the intensity of expression create a sense of discovered newness for someone whose life was predictably timetabled and task oriented.
That, at least, is Levertov's interpretation, and given her own slow coming to faith, there is a strong identity of her own experience of gradual dawning of understanding, with that of this marginal woman's encounter with the living presence of Christ.
This beautiful piece of autobiographical poetry expresses movingly Levertov's ownexperience of listening to the voice of Christ, her move from incredulity to faith, her desire to serve the One she sensed walking alongside, and now seated in the place of revelation and blessing.
This is one of an increasing number of ekphrastic poems, the impulse and desire to write poems about specific paintings which reflect the poet's experience. For the reader of the poem, who is also the viewer of the painting, there are two forms of seeing that invite the imagination to be present, to hear the voices, see the scene, and to encounter the central player in the drama.
The Servant Girl at Emmaus
(A Painting by Velázquez)
She listens, listens, holding
her breath. Surely that voice
is his—the one
who had looked at her, once, across the crowd,
as no one ever had looked?
Had seen her? Had spoken as if to her?
Surely those hands were his,
taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
Hands he'd laid on the dying and made them well?
Surely that face—?
The man they'd crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
The man it was rumoured now some women had seen this morning, alive?
Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
don't recognise yet with whom they sit.
But she in the kitchen, absently touching
the winejug she's to take in,
a young Black servant intently listening,
swings round and sees
the light around him
and is sure.
Surely…surely…surely; slowly but surely Levertov explains the thought processes of the kitchen maid, as memories, hopes and new possibilities come into clearer focus. Levertov imagines the girl is ahead of the game; she now knows, and she knows now, what the disciples at the table have yet to discover. When she takes the jug of wine through, and he breaks the bread, then they will know too.
But for now, she knows; she has seen the light surrounding him, and is sure. And for these brief moments there is secret joy when the least is centre stage, the last is first. The servant encounters grace before the hosts, which is as it should be in a resurrection topsy turvy world.
And like this Black servant girl, Levertov who often felt herself to be on the margins, has succeeded in giving clear expression to her own process of coming to faith. For now, she knows, has seen the light around him, and is sure. Three times Levertov reminds the reader that this girl is sure because she listens, and listens intently. The poet has been listening intently for a voice that had spoken as if to her; and found it to be so.
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