The way in which anything or anybody that one drank a health to, came to be called a toast has baffled derivation hunters of all degrees, and we are no wiser to-day than we were in 1709, when Isaac Bickerstaffe, in the twenty-fourth number of the newly-established Tatler, attempted to settle the matter by saying how, at Bath, in the time of Charles II., a celebrated beauty happened to be in the Cross-Bath, and out of the crowd of her admirers who were in the room, one of them took from her bath a cup of the water in which the lady was standing and drank her health to the company. Another of her admirers who was present, being half intoxicated, instead of pledging or drinking in response to the sentiment, announced his attention of jumping into the water and carrying off the bather, swearing that though he liked not the liquor, yet he would have the toast. He was opposed in his resolution, yet this whim gave foundation to the present honour which is due to the lady we mention in our liquor, who has ever since been called a toast. It is far more likely that, as Ellis observes, the use of the word on this occasion was a consequence of its previous employment for a like purpose, and not the cause of its being adopted. It is probable that toast came to be used in the sense it is stated to have been by the bath gallant, gradually, at first meaning a mere material relish or improvement to a glass of liquor, and afterwards getting to be applied to the ‘sentimental relish,’ or, as Sheridan truly calls it, the ‘excuse for the glass.’ Toasted bread formed a favourite addition to English drinks so early as the sixteenth century, and in the cups of sack and punch, brown toasts frequently floated at the top. In Wyther’s Abuses Stript and Whipt (published 1618) mention is made, as has been already noticed, of a draught ‘that must be spiced with a nut-browne tost.’
Hall states that there were some who drank healths upon their knees; some put their own blood into their drink and then drank a health to the king. So that the young Hectors not only cultivated habits of barbarity, but also linked themselves with blasphemy. But there was one other way of drinking healths still to be told, a piece of unparalleled tomfoolery—that of toasting a lady in some nauseous decoction. When this fashion was popular, two students at Oxford were each enamoured of the reigning belle of that sober University, and, as a test of the relative depth of their devotion, they applied themselves to toasting her in the manner we have mentioned. One, determined to prove that his love did not stick at trifles, took a spoonful of soot, mixed it with his wine, and drank off the mixture. His companion, determined not to be outdone, brought from his closet a phial of ink, which he drank, exclaiming, ‘Io triumphe and Miss Molly.’ These crackbrained young men also esteemed it a great privilege to get possession of any great beauty’s shoe, in order that they might ladle wine out of a bowl down their throats with it, the while they drank to the ‘lady of little worth’ or the ‘light-heeled mistress’ who had been its former wearer.
Is there any wonder that Dr. Peter Browne spoke out? He strongly condemned the practice on theological, moral, and common-sense grounds, of opinion that it had its origin in Pagan usages, though he is vague as to the particular custom out of which it arose. He classifies the various acceptations of a health under six heads:—(1) When a curse or imprecation is intended upon the person drinking, or (2) upon any other person; (3) when one drinks in honourable remembrance of absent living friends; or (4) by way of wishing others health and prosperity; or (5) in token of our respect and good-will to another, or approbation of any affair; and (6) as an outward indication of our loyalty. All such health-drinking, the learned prelate urges, is incompatible with the duty of good Christians, whom he exhorts to suppress the practice. He also cites an interesting formula used by the Jews in drinking, which is the first instance, to my knowledge, of a curse being intended instead of an expression of good-will; the words, upon the authority of Buxtorf, meaning, in their ordinary signification, ‘much good may it do you;’ but the utterer thereof, by a kind of mental reservation or adaptation, implied a curse—nay, as many curses as the letters stand for, viz. 165.[210]
From incidental notices we discover how very exceptional was the absence of toasts. Thus, in a description of home life at Badminton, we read:—
If the gentlemen chose a glass of wine the civil offers were made to go down into the vaults, which were very large and sumptuous, or servants, at a sign given, attended with salvers, &c., and many a brisk went round about; but no sitting at table with tobacco and healths, as the common use is.[212]
But the full extent of the unbridled excess of the period can best be estimated from a survey of the legislative enactments of the reign of the second George. They are worthy of careful consideration.
In the second year of this reign such a duty was placed upon spirits as to be nearly tantamount to a prohibition of their retail sale. A duty of 20l. was imposed on the spirit retail licence, which for the first time was ordered to be renewed annually. Moreover, dealers in spirits were placed under the same regulations as Publicans, in respect to Licences. This Act, after reciting the inconveniences arising from persons being licensed to keep inns and common ale-houses by justices living at a distance, who were not truly informed as to the need of such inns, or the character of the persons licensed, provides that no licence to keep an inn, ale-house, or victualling-house, or to retail strong waters, should be granted, but at a general meeting of justices of the division. This Act failed to answer the purpose of its promoters. Hawkers went about the streets selling coloured spirits under feigned names; so in the sixth year of the same reign the Act was repealed, and in its place an Act was passed (1732) which imposed a penalty of 10l. upon the retail sale of spirits, except sold in dwelling-houses. By this masterpiece of wisdom (!) every householder was potentially converted into a publican; nor did they fail to avail themselves of the permission. Intemperance spread like a plague.