What Kind of Debauchery? What Kind of Joy? / I Taste A Liquor Never Brewed / Fleishman

 What Kind of Debauchery? What Kind of Joy?

I Taste a Liquor Never Brewed (214)

Maxfield Fleishman

I taste a liquor never brewed – 
From Tankards scooped in Pearl – 
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of air – am I – 
And Debauchee of Dew – 
Reeling – thro' endless summer days – 
From inns of molten Blue – 
When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove's door – 
When Butterflies – renounce their "drams" – 
I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats – 
And Saints – to windows run – 
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the – Sun!


Being a drunkard has its joys, but what saint ever ran to witness a tippler deep in her revelry? 

Dickinson's poem 214 describes an "Inebriate of air," a "Debauchee of Dew - " who refuses to put down her drink, which is "never brewed - " and is drunk from "tankards scooped in pearl - ". Only when "Seraphs swing their snowy Hats -" and when saints desire to  see the drunkard herself "Leaning against the - Sun!" will she cease drinking. 

What kind of debauchery does this habit lead to? Taste is a sensual pleasure. We may count one a debauchee who overindulges in tasty foods, or in drunkenness. But Dickinson's debauchee seems different. She tastes an immaterial liquor; she enjoys non-chemical inebriation; her spirits of choice are mere air and dew. 

These leave her "Reeling - thro' endless summer days - ".  To reel is "to be in a confused or dizzy state." Imagine now a bright, even molten blue sky, mixed with the tinted roofs of buildings. Damp and emerald verdure spreads across the earth. The air whispers and the sun dazzles and the world spins until you fall into the grass. Although you haven't sipped a drink today, you feel as warm, drowsy, loose, joyful as a happy drunk. And somehow as dizzy as one. 

Is it sinful to be high on the sun's rays? To be ecstatic for the wind? To fall trustingly on the wet grass of Summer and loiter there dreaming? One cannot be so productive in such a state. One cannot thus meet the day's challenges with sober attention and undistracted will.  But does one always need to? In the height of Summer, can't one allow some elemental inebriation to steal one away into dizziness? 

Dickinson's little Tippler wants not to give up her drunkenness. Perhaps her folly lies here. She clutches her joy firmly, refuses to cease drinking even after "the drunken Bee" (great name for a pub btw) becomes homeless and the butterflies have gone sober. Joy is nice, but without an acceptance of pain, joy dulls. The drunk says that her summer days are endless, but all Summers end. What good does it do the drunk to deny the end of Summer? Winter will be no less painful. 

Finally, what limitation does the drunk set on her period of indulgence? When will Saints run to see the "little Tippler / Leaning against the - Sun!"? What power does the drunk hold, such that she can attract the attention of angels and saints? Such that she can lean against the Sun which is the source of her ceaseless intoxication? 

Comments

  1. Krishnan VenkateshApril 12, 2021 at 6:59 PM

    "The Drunken Bee" would indeed be a fantastic name for a pub. So also would "The Little Tippler" and "Debauchee of Dew." All would also be good names for bands as well as race horses. What exactly do you think the drunkenness here? -- a spiritual high, poetry, love, or something that holds all of these together? -- something not materially caused.

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