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A new era in this history of our drinking-parties occurred about the time of the Restoration, when politics heated their wine, and drunkenness and loyalty became more closely connected. As the puritanic coldness wore off, the people were perpetually, in 1650, warmed in drinking the king’s health on their knees; and, among various kinds of “ranting cavalierism,” the cavaliers during Cromwell’s usurpation usually put a crumb of bread into their glass, and before they drank it off, with cautious ambiguity exclaimed, “God send this crum well down!” which by the way preserves the orthoepy of that extraordinary man’s name, and may be added to the instances adduced in our present volume “On the orthography of proper names.” We have a curious account of a drunken bout by some royalists, told by Whitelocke in his Memorials. It bore some resemblance to the drinking-party of Catiline: they mingled their own blood with their wine.[166] After the Restoration, Burnet complains of the excess of convivial loyalty. “Drinking the king’s health was set up by too many as a distinguishing mark of loyalty, and drew many into great excess after his majesty’s restoration.”[167]

[Footnote 155:
Prynne’s tract entitled “Health’s Sicknesse” is full of curious allusions to the drinking-customs of the era of Charles the First. His paradoxical title alludes to the sickness that results from too freely drinking “healths.” ]

[Footnote 156:
Camden’s “History of Queen Elizabeth,” Book III. Many statutes against drunkenness, by way of prevention, passed in the reign of James the First. Our law looks on this vice as an aggravation of any offence committed, not as an excuse for criminal misbehaviour. See “Blackstone,” book iv. c. 2, sec. 3. In Mr. Gifford’s “Massinger,” vol. ii. 458, is a note to show that when we were young scholars, we soon equalled, if we did not surpass, our masters. Mr. Gilchrist there furnishes an extract from Sir Richard Baker’s Chronicle, which traces the origin of this exotic custom to the source mentioned; but the whole passage from Baker is literally transcribed from Camden. ]

[Footnote 157:
Nash’s “Pierce Pennilesse,” 1595, sig. F 2. ]

[Footnote 158:
These barbarous phrases are Dutch, Danish, or German. The term skinker, a filler of wine, a butler or cup-bearer, according to Phillips; and in taverns, as appears by our dramatic poets, a drawer, is Dutch, or, according to Dr. Nott, purely Danish, from skenker.

Half-seas over, or nearly drunk, is likely to have been a proverbial phrase from the Dutch, applied to that state of ebriety by an idea familiar with those water-rats. Thus op-zee, Dutch, means literally over-sea. Mr. Gifford has recently told us in his “Jonson,” that it was a name given to a stupifying beer introduced into England from the Low Countries; hence op-zee, or over-sea; and freezen in German, signifies to swallow greedily: from this vile alliance they compounded a harsh term, often used in our old plays. Thus Jonson:

I do not like the dulness of your eye,
It hath a heavy cast, ’tis upsee Dutch.

Alchemist, A. iv. S. 2.

And Fletcher has “upse-freeze;” which Dr. Nott explains in his edition of Decker’s “Gull’s Hornbook,” as “a tipsy draught, or swallowing liquor till drunk.” Mr. Gifford says it was the name of Friesland beer; the meaning, however, was “to drink swinishly like a Dutchman.”

We are indebted to the Danes for many of our terms of jollity, such as a rouse and a carouse. Mr. Gifford has given not only a new but very distinct explanation of these classical terms in his “Massinger.” “A rouse was a large glass, in which a health was given, the drinking of which by the rest of the company formed a carouse. Barnaby Rich notices the carouse as an invention for which the first founder merited hanging. It is necessary to add, that there could be no rouse or carouse, unless the glasses were emptied.” Although we have lost the terms, we have not lost the practice, as those who have the honour of dining in public parties are still gratified by the animating cry of “Gentlemen, charge your glasses.”