I usher
Such an unexpected dainty bit for breakfast
As never yet I cooked; ’tis not botargo,
Fried frogs, potatoes marrow’d, cavear,
Carps’ tongues, the pith of an English chine of beef,
Nor our Italian delicate oil’d mushrooms,
And yet a drawer on too; and if you show not
An appetite, and a strong one, I’ll not say
To eat it, but devour it, without grace too,
(For it will not stay a preface,) I am shamed,
And all my past provocatives will be jeer’d at.

The botargo was a relish made of mullet’s roes, and highly seasoned, much in use among the Italians.

Amongst many other curious frolics of hard drinkers, we find the use of what they called flap-dragons, or snap-dragon, which consisted in igniting combustible substances, which were swallowed while floating on the glass of liquor. Johnson describes them “a play in which they catch raisins out of burning brandy, and, extinguishing them by closing the mouth, eat them.” This prank is not uncommon to the present day in boarding-schools in certain festive entertainments of the young ladies.

Drunkenness being considered a beastly propensity, its gradations were fixed by animal comparisons. In a curious treatise on drunkards by George Gascoigne, we find the following illustration of these degrees: “The first is ape-drunk, and he leaps and sings and hallos and danceth for the hearers; the second is lion-drunk, and he flings the pots about the house, calls the hostess w——, breaks the glass windows with his dagger, and is apt to quarrel with any man that speaks to him; the third is swine-drunk, heavy, lumpish, and sleepy, and cries for a little more drink and a few more clothes; the fourth is sheep-drunk, wise in his own conceit, when he cannot bring forth a right word; the fifth is maudlin-drunk, when a fellow will weep for kindness in the midst of his drink, and kiss you, saying, ‘By G—! Captain, I love thee! Go thy ways; thou dost not think so often of me as I do of you; I would I could not love thee so well as I do!’ and then he puts his finger in his eye and cries; the sixth is martin-drunk, when a man is drunk, and drinks himself sober ere he stir; the seventh is goat-drunk, when in drunkenness he hath no mind but in lechery; the eighth is fox-drunk, when he is crafty drunk, as many of the Dutchmen be, which will never bargain but when they are drunk. All these species, and more, I have seen practised in one company at one sitting.”

Drunkenness has at various periods been resorted to in religious and political fervour. Daring the usurpation of Cromwell, the Cavaliers were wont to drink their king’s health in bumpers of wine in which some crumbs of bread had been thrown, exclaiming, “God send this crum-well down!” and Whitelocke, in his Memorials, records the following barbarous Catilinian orgies: “Five drunkards agree to drink the king’s health in their blood, and that each of them should cut out a piece of his buttock, and fry it upon the gridiron, which was done by four of them, of whom one did bleed so exceedingly that they were fain to send for a chirurgeon, and so were discovered. The wife of one of them, hearing that her husband was amongst them, came to the room, and, taking up a pair of tongs, laid about her, and so saved the cutting of her husband’s flesh.”

The laws enacted to prevent drunkenness at various periods and by different governments, are curious. Domitian ordered all the vine-plants in the Roman territory to be rooted out. Charles IX. of France issued a similar edict. In 1536, under Francis I, a law was passed sentencing drunkards to imprisonment on bread and water for the first offence; a public whipping punished a second infringement; and, on reiteration, banishment and the loss of ears. The ancients, equally aware of the danger that arose from intoxication, were also anxious to prevent it. Draco inflicted capital punishments. Lycurgus destroyed the vineyards. The Athenians had officers, named ophthalmos, to prevent excesses in liquor drinking. In Rome, patricians were not allowed the use of wine until they had attained their thirty-fifth year. Wine was only drunk pure in the beginning of sober repasts in honour of Deus Sospes, and afterwards mixed with water in honour of Jupiter Servator. Notwithstanding these wise examples in support of prudent precepts, it appears that drunkenness was a common vice amongst the Romans. Tiberius was surnamed Biberius; and it was said of the parasite Bibulus, “dum vixit, aut bibit aut minxit.” Aurelianus had officers of his household whose duty was to intoxicate foreign ambassadors; and Cato’s partiality for the juice of the grape has been recorded by Horace,

Narratur et prisci Catonis
Sæpe mero caluisse virtus.

In the middle ages, drinking was resorted to by the monks as a religious libation; and they also drank to the dead, a custom which was condemned as idolatrous. These excesses were restrained by various regulations, and in 817 the quantity of wine allowed each monk was fixed at five pints. Charlemagne, in his Capitularies, forbids the provocation of drinking healths and hob-nobbing (pléger et trinquer). Temperance societies are not modern institutions. In 1517, Sigismund de Dietrichstein established one under the auspices of St. Christopher; a similar association was formed in 1600 by Maurice Duke of Hesse, which, however, allowed a knight to drink seven bocaux, or glasses, at each meal, but only twice in the day. The size of these bocaux is not recorded, but no doubt it was an endeavour to obtain a comparative condition of sobriety. Another temperate society, under the name of the Golden Ring, was instituted by Frederic V. Count Palatine.

Whether the influence of temperate societies or their advocates will tend to diminish the consumption of wine and spirituous liquors in the British empire, it is difficult to say. Hitherto every act of interference, either from individuals or on the part of the legislature, has proved not only abortive, but has increased the evil it was intended to remedy. The imposition of heavy duties only threw the distillation of spirits into the hands of illicit speculators instead of respectable capitalists; and, as M’Culloch justly remarks, “superadded the atrocities of the smuggler to the idleness and dissipation of the drunkard.” During the latter part of the reign of George I. and the earlier period of George II. gin-drinking was so prevalent, that it was denounced from the pulpit and the press. At length ministers determined to make a vigorous effort to put a stop to the further use of spirituous liquors except as a cordial or medicine. To accomplish this end, a duty of twenty shillings was laid on spirits, exclusive of a heavy licence duty to retailers, while a fine of 100l. was levied on all defaulters. But instead of the anticipated effects, this act produced results directly opposite: the respectable dealers withdrew from a trade proscribed by the legislature; and the sale of spirits fell into the hands of the lowest and most profligate characters. The officers of the revenue were hunted down by the populace, and did not dare to enforce the law; and Tindal, in his Continuation of Rapin, says, “within two years of the passing of this act, it had become so odious and contemptible, that policy as well as humanity forced the commissioners of excise to mitigate its penalties.” During these two years twelve thousand persons were convicted of offences connected with the sale of spirits, while no exertion could check the torrent of smuggling, and seven millions of gallons illicitly distilled were annually consumed in London and its environs. Our present consumption of British, Colonial and Foreign spirits is immense, but not equal to what it was at the period alluded to. The following is the account of this consumption in 1832:

In England,1,530,988 imperial gallons, Foreign.
3,377,507"Colonial.
7,259,287"British.
In Scotland,69,236gallons,Foreign.
112,026"Colonial.
5,407,097"British.
In Ireland,33,413"Foreign.
24,432"Colonial.
8,657,756"British.