CHAPTER I

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THE FLOWING BOWL, By EDWARD SPENCER

* * * * * *

_By the Same Author_

CAKES AND ALE

A Memory of many Meals; the

whole interspersed with various

Recipes, more or less original,

and Anecdotes, mainly veracious.

THIRD EDITION

Small Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s.

_Cover designed by Phil May_

THE GREAT GAME

AND HOW IT IS PLAYED

A Treatise on the Turf,

full of Tales

Small Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s.

LONDON: GRANT RICHARDS

* * * * * *

THE FLOWING BOWL

A Treatise on Drinks of All Kinds and of

All Periods, Interspersed with Sundry

Anecdotes and Reminiscences

by

EDWARD SPENCER

(‘Nathaniel Gubbins’)

Author of ‘Cakes and Ale,’ etc.

London

Grant Richards

1903

PREFACE

I claim no merit for the following pages, other than may attach

to industry, application, the gift of copying accurately, and the

acquisition of writer’s cramp. The mechanical writing is—to the great

joy of the compositors who have dealt with it—every letter mine own;

but the best part of the book has been conveyed from other sources.

In fact the book is, as the old lady said of the divine tragedy of

_Hamlet_, “full of quotations.” The hand is the hand of Gubbins, but

the voice is, for the most part, the voice of the great ones of the

past, including Pliny and Gervase Markham. The matter, or most of it—I

am endeavouring to drive the fact home—is culled from other sources;

and if this is the most useful and interesting work ever published it

is more my fortune than my fault.

The genial reception of my earlier effort, _Cakes and Ale_—which

was condemned only by worshippers of _Ala_, who were not expected

to applaud—together with the hope of earning something towards the

purchase of a Bath Chair—have induced me to issue this little treatise

on liquids, as a companion to my first cloth-bound book. And innate

modesty—I stick to “innate,” despite the critics—compels me to add that

I think the last is the better work. I will, however, leave a generous

and discriminating public to decide that question for itself.

LONDON, CHRISTMAS EVE, 1898.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

THE OLD ADAM

Introductory — Awful habits of the ancients — A bold, bad book —

Seneca on the Drink Habit — The bow must not be always strung —

_Ebrietatis Encomium_ — The noble Romans — “Dum vivimus vivamus” —

The skeleton at the banquet — Skull-cups — “Life and wine are the

same thing” — Virgil and his contemporaries — Goats for Bacchus —

The days of Pliny — Rewards for drunkenness — Novellius Torquatus

— Three gallons at a draught — A swallow which did not save Rome —

The antiquity of getting for’ard — Noah as a grape-grower — Father

Frassen’s ideas — Procopius of Gaza — New Testament wine — Fermented

or not? — Bad old Early Christians — Drunkenness common in Africa —

Religion a cloak for alcohol — Tertullian on cider — Paulinus excuses

intemperance — Excellence of Early Christians’ intentions . . . Pages

1–10

CHAPTER II

MORE FRIGHTFUL EXAMPLES

Eating and drinking the only work of the monks — Nunc est bibendum —

An apology for Herodotus — A jovial pope — Good quarters in Provence

— Intemperance of holy men — A tippling bishop — Alexander the Great

— “Lovely Thais sits beside thee” — A big flare-up — Awful end of

Alec — Cambyses always shot straight — Darius the strong-of-head —

Philip drunk and Philip sober — Dionysius gets blind — Tiberius loved

the bowl — So did Flavius Vobiscus, the diplomatist — Bluff King Hal

— The Merry Monarch and the Lord Mayor — Dear Old Pepys — A Mansion

House wine-list — Minimum allowance of sack — A slump in brandy — A

church-tavern — Dean Aldrich — The Romans at supper — “The tippling

philosophers” . . . Pages 11–21

CHAPTER III

DRINKS ANCIENT AND MODERN

The Whitaker of the period — France without wine — Babylonian boozers

— Beer discovered by the Egyptians — A glass of bitter for Cleopatra —

Brainless Persians — German sots — Turning the tables — Intemperance

in the North — Chinese intoxicants — Nature of Sack — Mead and morat —

Vinous metheglin — Favourite tipple of the Ancient Britons — Braggonet

— Birch-wine — “The inwariable” of Falstaff — A recipe by Sir Walter

Raleigh — Saragossa wine — Usquebaugh — Clary — Apricock wine . . .

22–35

CHAPTER IV

SOME OLD RECIPES

Indifference of the Chineses — A nasty potion — A nastier — White

Bastard — Helping it to be eager — Improving Malmsey — Death of the

Duke of Clarence — Mum is _not_ the word — English champagne — Life

without Ebulum a blank — Cock ale — How to dispose of surplus poultry

— Painful fate of a pauper — _Potage pauvre_ — Duties of the old

English housewife — Election of wines, not golf — Muskadine — Lemon

wine — Familiar recipe — King William’s posset — Pope’s ditto . . .

Pages 36–47

CHAPTER V

GLORIOUS BEER

Nectar on Olympus — Beer and the Bible — “Ninepenny” at Eton — “Number

One” Bass — “The wicked weed called hops” — All is not beer that’s

bitter — Pathetic story of “Poor Richard” — Secrets of brewing —

Gervase Markham — An “espen” full of hops — Eggs in ale — Beer soup

— The wassail bowl — Sir Watkin Wynne — Brown Betty — Rumfustian —

Mother-in-law — A delightful summer drink — Brasenose ale . . . 48–60

CHAPTER VI

ALL ALE

Waste not, want not — The right hand for the froth — Arthur Roberts

and Phyllis Broughton — A landlord’s perquisites — Marc Antony and

hot coppers — Introduction of ale into Britain — Burton-on-Trent —

Formerly a cotton-spinning centre — A few statistics — Michael Thomas

Bass — A grand old man — Malting barleys — Porter and stout — Lager

beer — Origin of bottled ale — An ancient recipe — Lead-poisoning —

The poor man’s beer . . . 61–71

CHAPTER VII

A SPIRITUOUS DISCOURSE

What is brandy? — See that you get it — Potato-spirit from the

Fatherland — The phylloxera and her ravages — Cognac oil — Natural

history of the vine-louse — “Spoofing” the Yanks — Properties of Argol

— Brandy from sawdust — Desiccated window-sills — Enormous boom in

whisky — Dewar and the trade — Water famine — The serpent Alcohol —

Some figures — France the drunken nation, not Britain — Taxing of

distilleries — _Uisge beatha_ — Fusel oil — Rye whisky — Palm wine —

John Exshaw knocked out by John Barleycorn . . . Pages 72–82

CHAPTER VIII

OTHER SPIRITS

Old Jamaica pine-apple — “Tots” for Tommy Atkins — The grog tub

aboard ship — _Omelette au rhum_ — Rum-and-milk — Ditto-and-ale — A

maddening mixture — Rectifying gin — “The seasoning as does it” — Oil

of turpentine and table-salt — A long thirst — A farthing’s worth of

Old Tom — Roach-alum — Dirty gin — Gin and bitters — “Kosher” rum

— An active and intelligent officer — Gambling propensities of the

Israelites — The dice in the tumbler — Nomenclature at “The Olde

Cheshyre Cheese” — “Rack” — “Cork” . . . 83–90

CHAPTER IX

CUPS WHICH CHEER

Claret combinations — Not too much noyeau — A treat for schoolboys

— The properties of borage — “Away with melancholy” — _Salmon’s

Household Companion_ — Balm for vapours — Crimean cup — An elaborate

and far-reaching compound — Orgeat — A race-day cup — “Should auld

acquaintance be forgot?” — Sparkling Isabella — Rochester’s delight

— Freemason’s relish — Porter cup — Dainty drink for a tennis-party

. . . 91–100

CHAPTER X

PUNCH

Derivation of the word questioned — Not an Asiatic drink —

“Pale-punts” — No relation to pale punters — Properties of rum — Toddy

as a tonic — Irish punch — Glasgie ditto — O’er muckle cauld watter —

One to seven — Hech sirs! — Classical sherbet — Virtues of the feet

of calves — West India dry gripes — Make your own punch — No deputy

allowed — Attraction of capillaire — Gin punch — Eight recipes for

milk-punch — University heart-cheerers . . . Pages 101–114

CHAPTER XI

STRANGE SWALLOWS

“Wormwood!”—The little green fairy — All right when you know it, but⸺

— The hour of absinthe — Awful effects — Marie Corelli — St. John the

Divine — Arrack and bhang not to be encouraged — Plain water — The

original intoxicant — Sacred beverage of the mild Hindu — Chi Chi —

Kafta, an Arabian delight — Friends as whisky agents — Effervescent

Glenlivet — The peat-reek — American bar-keeper and his best customer

— “Like swallerin’ a circ’lar saw and pullin’ it up again” —

Castor-oil anecdote — “Haste to the wedding!” . . . 115–125

CHAPTER XII

“THE BOY”

Definition of the youth — The valley of the Marne — An Archbishop

in sparkling company — All is not cham. that fizzes — Beneficial

effects of Pommery — Dire memories of the Haymarket — The bad boy at

York — A hair of the canine — The good boy — Gout defied — Old Roman

cellars — A chronic bombardment — Magnums to right of ’em — Duties

of the disgorger — Simon the cellarer — Fifteen millions of full

bottles — Pro-dig-i-ous! — Gooseberry champagne a myth — About Médoc

— The ancients spelt claret with two “r’s” — Hints on adulteration —

“Château Gubbins” — New wine — Gladstone claret — “Pricked!” . . .

Pages 126–136

CHAPTER XIII

THE OLD WINES AND THE NEW

Decline and fall of port — Old topers — A youthful wine-bibber — The

whisky age succeeds the port age — “Jeropiga” — Landladies’ port —

A monopoly — Port _v._ gout — A quaint breakfast in Reading — About

nightcaps — Sherry an absolutely pure wine — Except when made within

the four miles’ radius — Treading the grapes — “Yeso” — Pliny pops up

again — “Lime in the sack” — What the _Lancet_ says — “Old Sherry” —

_Faux pas_ of a General — About vintages . . . 137–148

CHAPTER XIV

THE LONG AND THE SHORT OF IT

The Long Drink — Cremorne Gardens — Hatfield — Assorted cocktails —

Brandy-and-Soda — Otherwise Stone Fence — Bull’s milk — A burglar’s

brew — More cocktails — A “swizzle” — L’Amour Poussée — A corpse

reviver — A golden slipper — A heap of comfort . . . 149–161

CHAPTER XV

STILL HARPING ON THE DRINK

Sangaree — Slings — John Collins — Smashes — Sour beverages — Home

Ruler — Burning brandy — A prairie oyster — A turkey ditto — About

negus, for white-frock and black-mitten parties — Egg nogg — A doctor

— A surgeon-major — A new locomotive — Rumfustian — Pope — Bull’s

milk — A bosom caresser — The Colleen Bawn — Possets — Sir Fleetwood

Fletcher . . . Pages 162–173

CHAPTER XVI

“APPLE SASS”

Ancient British seider — Conducive to longevity — The best made in

Normandy — Which develops into champagne — And other popular and

salubrious wines — Non-alcoholic cider — A loathsome brew — German

manufacturers — Medical properties of apple juice — Away with

melancholy — The mill and the press — Pure wine — Norfolk cider

— Gaymer’s gout-fuge — Revival of the industry — Old process of

cider-making — Improving the flavour — Boiled cider — Hippocras —

Juniper cider — An ancient cider-cup . . . 174–184

CHAPTER XVII

CORDIALS AND LIQUEURS

A chat about cherry brandy — Cherry gin — And cherry whisky — Sloe gin

— Highland cordial — What King Charles II. swallowed — Poor Charles!

— Ginger brandy — Orange-flower brandy — Employment of carraway

seeds — The school treat — Use and abuse of aniseed — Do not drink

quince whisky — Try orange brandy instead — A hell-broth — Curaçoa —

Cassis — Chartreuse — The monks as benefactors — Some quaint tavern

“refreshers” — Kirschenwasser — Noyeau — Parfait amour — Maraschino —

A valuable ginger cordial . . . Pages 185–197

CHAPTER XVIII

THE AFTERMATH OF REVELRY

Revelry means remorse — And “Katzenjammer” — And other things — Why

will ye do it? — The devil in solution — Alcoholism a disease — An

accountant on wires — A jumpy journalist — A lot of jolly dogs — What

is “Langdebeefe”? — To cure spleen or vapours — Directly opposite

effects of alcohol — The best pick-me-up in the world — An anchovy

toast — Baltimore egg nogg — Orange quinine — About brandy and

soda-water — A Scorcher — Brazil relish — St. Mark’s pick-me-up — A

champion bitters — A devilled biscuit — Restorative sandwiches — Fresh

air and exercise best of all — Stick to your nerve! . . . 198–210

CHAPTER XIX

THE DRINKS OF DICKENS

The lesson taught by “Boz” — Clothing Christmas — Dickens’s drunkards

— Fantastic names for ales — Robbing a boy of his beer — A school

supper — Poor Traddles — Micawber and punch — Revelry at Pecksniff’s

— Todgers’s “doing it” — Delights of the “Dragon” — Sairey Gamp’s

requirements — What was in the teapot — The “Maypole” — Sydney

Carton’s hopeless case — Stryver’s model — “_Little D._ is Deed

nonsense” — Dear old Crummles — A magnum of the Double Diamond —

Newman Noggs — Brandy before breakfast — Mr. Fagin’s pupils —

Orange-peel and water — Quilp on fire — “Pass the rosy” — Harold

Skimpole — Joey Bagstock — Brandy-and-tar-water — That ass Pumblechook

— An inexhaustible bottle — Jaggers’s luncheon — Pickwick v. total

abstinence — Everything an excuse for a dram — Brandy and oysters —

“The inwariable” — Milk-punch — Charm of the _Pickwick Papers_ . . .

Pages 211–226

CHAPTER XX

SWORN OFF!

Introduction of temperance into England — America struck it first

— Doctor Johnson an abstainer — Collapse of the Permissive Bill —

Human nature and forbidden fruit — Effects of repressive legislation

— Sunday closing in Wales — Paraffin for miners — Toasting her

Majesty — A good win — A shout and a drink — Jesuitical logic of the

prohibitioners — The end justifies the means — A few non-alcoholic

recipes — Abstainers and alcohol — Pure spring-water _v._ milk-punch —

“Tried baith!” . . . 227–237

INDEX OF RECIPES . . . 239–243

CHAPTER I

THE OLD ADAM

Introductory — Awful habits of the ancients — A bold, bad book —

Seneca on the Drink Habit — The bow must not be always strung —

_Ebrietatis Encomium_ — The noble Romans — “Dum vivimus vivamus” —

The skeleton at the banquet — Skull-cups — “Life and wine are the

same thing” — Virgil and his contemporaries — Goats for Bacchus —

The days of Pliny — Rewards for drunkenness — Novellius Torquatus

— Three gallons at a draught — A swallow which did not save Rome —

The antiquity of getting for’ard — Noah as a grape-grower — Father

Frassen’s ideas — Procopius of Gaza — New Testament wine — Fermented

or not? — Bad old Early Christians — Drunkenness common in Africa —

Religion a cloak for alcohol — Tertullian on cider — Paulinus excuses

intemperance — Excellence of Early Christians’ intentions.

I wish to state at the outset that this little work is not compiled in

the interests of the sot, the toper, and the habitual over-estimator

of his swallowing capacity. That the gifts of the gods, and the

concoctions of more or less vile man, should be used with moderation,

if we wish to really and thoroughly enjoy them, is a truism which needs

no repetition; and although at the commencement of this work many

“frightful {2} examples” of the evils of over-indulgence will be found

mentioned, nothing but moderation will be found counselled in my book,

from cover to cover.

In the past, drunkenness was not always regarded as a vice, and this

is evident from much of the literature of former generations. In the

course of my researches into the alcohol question I have come across a

little book which bears the shameful and abandoned title of _Ebrietatis

Encomium, or the Praise of Drunkenness_. And this book, which conveys

such questionably moral aphorisms as “It is good for one’s health to be

drunk occasionally,” and “The truly happy are the truly intoxicated,”

claims to prove, “most authentically and most evidently, the necessity

of frequently getting drunk, and that the practice is most ancient,

primitive, and catholic.”

The author commences with what he calls “a beautiful passage out of

Seneca:—

“The soul must not be always bent: one must sometimes allow it a little

pleasure. Socrates was not ashamed to pass the time with children. Cato

enjoyed himself in drinking plentifully, when his mind had been too

much wearied out in public affairs. Scipio knew very well how to move

that body, so much inured to wars and triumphs, without breaking it,

as some nowadays do . . . ; but as people did in past times, who would

make themselves merry on their festivals, by leading a dance really

worthy men of those days, whence could ensue no reproach, when even

their very enemies had seen them dance. One must allow the mind {3}

some recreation: it makes it more gay and peaceful. . . . Assiduity of

labour begets a languor and bluntness of the mind: for sleep is very

necessary to refresh us, and yet he that would do nothing else but

sleep night and day would be a dead man, and no more. There is a great

deal of difference between loosening a thing, and quite unravelling

it. Those who made laws have instituted holidays, to oblige people to

appear at public rejoicings, in order to mingle with their cares a

necessary temperament. . . . You must sometimes walk in the open air,

that the mind may exalt itself by seeing the heavens, and breathing the

air at your ease; sometimes take the air in your chariot, the roads and

the change of the country will re-establish you in your vigour; or you

may eat and drink a little more plentifully than usual. Sometimes one

must even go as far as to get drunk; not indeed with an intention to

drown ourselves in wine, but to drown our care. For wine drives away

sorrow and care, and goes and fetches them up from the bottom of the

soul. And as drunkenness cures some distempers, so, in like manner, it

is a sovereign remedy for our sorrows” (Seneca _de Tranquillitate_).

Such sentiments were doubtless popular enough in Great Britain at

the commencement of the present century—when _Ebrietatis Encomium_

was published—when three and four bottle-men slept where they fell,

“repugnant to command”; and malt liquor, small or strong, was the only

known matutinal restorative of manly vigour. But my own experience is

that {4} the sorrow and care which may be temporarily driven away by

drowning them in the bowl are apt to return within a very few hours,

reinforced an hundredfold, with their weapons re-sharpened, their

instruments of torture put in thorough working-order, and with many

other devils worse than themselves. A man, sound in body and mind, may

really enjoy a certain amount of good liquor without feeling any ill

effects next morning; but woe to him who seeks to drown that which

cannot sink; to crush the worm which knows not death! The individual

has yet to be born who can flourish, either in body or soul, on his own

immoderation; and but for a chronic state of thirst in early youth I

should not now be reduced to the compilation of drink statistics for a

living.

But the ancients, in their heathen philosophy—which, by the way, was

once recommended to Christians to follow—took no thought for the

morrow. “Carpe diem!” was the head and front of the programme of the

Roman patricians, who used to cry aloud at their feasts, by way of

grace before meat:—

AMICI,

DUM VIVIMUS

VIVAMUS!

This was probably the original version of “We won’t go home till

morning,” and was sung, or shouted, at all bean-feasts and smart

supper-parties. The ancient Egyptians made use of a very extraordinary,

and a very nasty, custom in their festivals. They shewed to every

guest a {5} skeleton, before the soup was served. This, according to

some historians, was to make the feasters think on their latter end.

But others assert that this strange figure was brought into use for

a directly opposite reason; that the image of death was shewn for no

other intent than to excite the guests to pass their lives merrily, and

to employ the few days of its small duration to the best advantage;

as having no other condition to expect after death than that of this

frightful skeleton.

This was the idea of one Trimalchion, who, Petronius tells us, thus

expressed himself on the subject: “Alas! alas! wretched that we are!

What a nothing is poor man! We shall be like this, when Fate shall have

snatched us hence. Let us therefore rejoice, and be merry while we are

here.” The original Latin of this translation is much stronger, and had

better not be given here. And the same Trimalchion on another occasion

remarked: “Alas! Wine therefore lives longer than man, let us then sit

down and drink bumpers; life and wine are the same thing.”

The Scythians undoubtedly used to drink out of vessels fashioned from

human skulls, and probably had the same design in doing so as the

Egyptians had in looking on their nasty skeletons.

In Virgil’s time, his contemporaries—and very probably the old man

himself—drank deep; but instead of fighting, and breaking things, and

jumping on their wives, and getting locked up, they brought their own

heathen religion into their debaucheries. In more civilized circles, at

this end of the most civilized century, the reveller {6} goes out “to

see a man,” and subsequently “shouts for the crowd”; but in Virgil’s

time a man who had a drink was said to be “pouring forth libations to

the gods,” “making sacrifices”—more especially to Bacchus, the wine

deity, whom nothing under the slaughter of a he-goat was supposed to

propitiate. And the “Billy” was chosen for the sacrifice, because the

tender shoots of the vine formed his favourite food, in a land in which

there was neither brown paper, nor wall-plaster, nor salmon-tins, to

nibble. And these sacrifices to the rosy god were “occasions” (as they

say in the City) indeed! I have often wondered what the ancients did to

cure a headache; and whether a man said to be “possessed of a devil”

was in reality suffering from Alcohol, “the Devil in solution,” in the

shape of _delirium tremens_ in one of its many and objectionable forms.

In the time of Pliny, drunkenness and debauchery appear to have been

the principal studies of the nations about whom he had information.

A man was actually _rewarded_ for getting drunk—tell it not in Vine

Street, W.! The greatest drinker got the most prizes; and Pliny

informs us that whilst the Parthians contended for the distinction

of having the hardest heads and the longest swallows, they were

simply “not in it” with the Milanese, who had a real champion in one

Novellius Torquatus. This man, according to history, could have given a

market-porter of the present day, a brewer’s drayman, or a stockbroker,

any amount of start over the Alcohol course, and “lost” him.

This Novellius won the championship from all {7} pretenders, and

“had gone through all honourable degrees of dignity in Rome, wherein

the greatest repute he obtained was for drinking in the presence of

Tiberius three gallons of wine at one draught, and before he drew his

breath again; neither did he rest there, but he so far had acquired the

art of drinking, that although he continued at it, yet was never known

to falter in his tongue; and were it ne’er so late in the evening he

followed this exercise, yet would be ready again for it in the morning.

Those large draughts also he drank at one breath, without leaving in

the cup so much as would dash against the pavement.”

Ah! We have nobody up to this form to talk about nowadays; and if men

have improved in morality they must have deteriorated in capacity, or

the occupation of gaolers and warders would be gone. And the poor old

poet “Spring Onions,” with even a tenth part of the powers of endurance

and swallow of Novellius Torquatus, might have escaped even one

solitary conviction.

“If the antiquity of a custom,” writes the author of _Ebrietatis

Encomium_, “makes it always good and laudable, certainly drunkenness

can never deserve sufficient recommendation. Every one knows that Noah

got drunk after he had planted the vine. There are some who pretend to

excuse him, that he was not acquainted with the strength of wine. But

to this it may very well be answered that it is not very probable so

wise a man as Noah should plant a vine without knowing its nature and

property. Besides it is one thing to know whether he got drunk at all:

and another whether he had an intention to do so.” {8}

The amount of water previously experienced by Noah should surely be

sufficient to purge him of the offence of making too free with the

fruit of the vine!

“But,” continues the laudator of ebriety, “if we give any credit to

several learned persons, Noah was not the first man who got fuddled.

Father Frassen maintains ‘that people fed on flesh before the Flood,

and drank wine.’ There is no likelihood, according to him, that men

contented themselves with drinking water for fifteen or sixteen hundred

years together. It is much more credible that they prepared a drink

more nourishing and palatable. These first men of the world were endued

with no less share of wit than their posterity, and consequently wanted

no industry to invent everything that might contribute to make them

pass their lives agreeably. Before the Flood men married, and gave

their children in marriage. These people regaled each other, and made

solemn entertainments. Now who can imagine that they drank at those

festivals nothing but water, and fed only on fruits and herbs! Noah,

therefore, was not the inventor of the use which we make of the grape;

the most that he did was only to plant new vines.”

Procopius of Gaza, one of the most ancient and learned interpreters

of Scripture, thinks it no less true that the vine was known in the

world before Noah’s time; but he does not allow that the use of wine

was known before the patriarch, whom he believes to be the inventor of

it. As for the wine mentioned in the New Testament, we are now assured

by modern commentators—total {9} abstainers every one—that it was

unfermented, devoid of alcohol, and non-intoxicating. I had certainly

always looked upon the wine which Timothy was enjoined to take for his

“stomach’s sake,” as some form of brandy.

The Early Christians—like far too many of the late ditto—were terrible

topers. Ecclesiastical history tells us that in the primitive church

it was customary to appoint solemn feasts on the festivals of martyrs.

This appears by the harangue of Constantine, and from the works of St.

Gregory Nazianzen, and St. Chrysostom. Drunkenness was rife at those

feasts; and this excess was looked upon as permissible. This is shewn

by the pathetic complaints of St. Augustine and St. Cyprian, the former

of which holy fathers thus delivered himself:—

“Drunken debauches pass as permitted amongst us, so that people turn

them into solemn feasts, to honour the memory of the martyrs; and that

not only on those days which are particularly consecrated to them

(which would be a deplorable abuse to those who look at those things

with other eyes than those of the flesh), but on every day of the year.”

St. Cyprian, in a treatise attributed to him, says much the same thing:—

“Drunkenness is so common with us in Africa that it scarce passes for a

crime. And do we not see Christians forcing one another to get drunk,

to celebrate the memory of the martyrs?”

Cardinal du Perron told his contemporaries “that the Manichæans said

that the Catholicks were people much given to wine, but that they {10}

never drank any,” which sounds paradoxical. Against this charge St.

Augustine only defends them by recrimination. He answers, “that it was

true, but that they (the Manichæans) drank the juice of apples, which

was more delicious than all the wines and liquors in the world.” And

so does Tertullian, who said the liquor press’d from apples was most

strong and vinous. His words are: “Succum ex pomis vinosissimum.”

I trust that in quoting all those things I am not becoming wearisome,

at the very commencement of my work; the main object being to show that

all the drinking in the world is not done by the present generation of

vipers.

But the Early Christians were excused for their habits of soaking, by

Paulinus, on the grounds of the “excellence of their intentions”; which

naturally reminds us of the celebrated excuse of the late Monsieur

Thiers, on a much later occasion. The words of Paulinus are, when

translated and adapted:—

But yet that mirth in little feasts enjoy’d

I think should ready absolution find;

Slight peccadillo of an erring mind,

Artless and rude, of all disguises void,

Their simple hearts too easy to believe

(Conscious of nothing ill) that saints in tombs

Enshrin’d should any happiness perceive

From quaffing cups, and wines’ ascending fumes,

Must be excus’d, since what they did they meant

With piety ill plac’d, yet good intent.

Similar pleas are occasionally urged by roysterers nowadays, yet they

are but seldom credited in their own parishes.

{11}

The Flowing Bowl A Treatise on Drinks of All Kinds and of All Periods, Interspersed with Sundry Anecdotes and Reminiscences · 第 1 / 20 章