With celebration on my mind as Kristin's wedding approaches this weekend, I've been referencing my handy stack of books tucked into my built-in desk. Thick ones like "Words of Wisdom" and "Emily Post's Etiquette" are go-tos but I also pulled out "Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things" - a book of 500 fascinating stories that was my grandmother's, full of interesting nuggets that you can live forever without knowledge of but acquiring it can enrich your life at most random of times. I flipped through the wedding chapter and learned that the diamond engagement ring dates back to the 15th century in Venice and that wedding cake was originally tossed at brides, instead of eaten, as a symbol of fertility.
But I especially intrigued when I came across the origin on the toast. I've posted before about Toastmasters, but this is not about public speaking - it's about intimate celebration and acknowledgement of those who are important to us. I toast or 'cheers' whenever I go out to dinner or share a man with special people - MR and my niece Kylie know to expect this from me. And so the story goes...
"Anyone who has ever drunk a toast to a friend's health or good fortune may have wondered how the word 'toast' came to designate a ceremony that involves no roasted slice of bread. The custom of a host drinking to a friend's health originated with the Greeks, as early as the sixth century, BC, and for a highly practical reason: to assure guests that the wine they were about to consume was not poisoned.
Spiking wine with poison had long been a preferred way to dispose of a political rival or suspended enemy, or to circumvent divorce. Thus, a host sipped the first wine poured from a decanter, and satisfied of its safety, the guests raised their glasses and drank. This drinking in sequences - guests following host - came to symbolize a sort of fledge of friendship and amity.
The Romans adopted the Greek penchant for poisoning (the ambitious Livia Drusilla, empress of Rome in the first century B.C. made something of a science of the practice) and the custom of drinking as a pledge of friendship. The Roman custom of dropping a burnt piece of toast into a cup of wine is the origin of the verbal usage. The practice continued into a Shakespeare's time. In Shakespeare's
Merry Wives of Windsor, Falstaff orders a jug of wine and requests "put toast in't."
For many years, it was assumed that the Roman slice of toast was a piece of spiced or sugared bread, added to wine for sweetening. More recently, it was scientifically shown that charcoal can reduce a liquid's acidity, and that a blackened piece of bread added to an inferior, slightly vinegary wine can render it more mellow and palatable - something the Romans may have discovered for themselves. Our word 'toast' comes from the Latin
tostus, meaning 'parched' or 'roasted.'
In summary: The Greeks drank to a friend's health; the Romans flavored the drink with toast; and in time, the drink itself became a 'toast.' In the early eighteenth century, the custom of drinking a toast took a new twist. Instead of drinking to a friend present at dinner, the toast was drunk to the health of a celebrated person, particularly a beautiful woman - whom the diners might have never met. In
The Tatler of June 4, 1709, Sir Richard Steele mentions that British men were so accustomed to toasting a beautiful woman that 'the lady mentioned in our liquor has been called a toast.' In Steele's lifetime, a celebrated or fashionable Briton became known as the 'toast of the town.'
In the next century, drinking toasts acquired such popularity in England that no dinner was complete without them. A British duke wrote in 1803 that 'every glass during dinner had to be dedicated to someone,' and that to refrain from toasting was considered 'sottish and rude, as if no one present was worth drinking to.' One way to effectively insult a dinner guest was to omit toasting to him or her; it was, as the duke wrote, 'a piece of direct contempt."
So there you have it... consider this at your next dinner party or event and raise your glass.
