A Liquid Lunch

"If I give you anything like a connected account of what passed, you must thank Sigurdr's more solid temperament; for the Doctor looked quite foolish when I asked him - tried to feel my pulse - could not find it - and then wrote the following prescription, which I believe to be nothing more than an invoice of the number of bottles he himself disposed of.

[Footnote: Copy of Dr. F's prescription:- vin: claret: iii. btls.; vin: champ: iv btls.; vin: sherr: 1/2 btl.; vin: Rheni: ii btls.; aqua vitae viii gls.; trigint: poc: aegrot: cap: quotid: C.E.F.; Reik: die Martis, Junii 27.]

I gather, then, from the evidence - internal and otherwise - that the dinner was excellent, and that we were helped in Benjamite proportions; but as before the soup was finished I had was already hard at work hobnobbing with my two neighbours, it is not to be expected I should remember the bill of fare.

With the peculiar manners used in Scandinavian skoal-drinking I was already well-acquainted. In the nice conduct of a wine-glass I knew that I excelled, and having a hereditary horror of heel-taps, I prepared with a firm heart to respond to the friendly provocations of my host. I only wish you could have seen how his kind face beamed with approval when I chinked my first bumper against his, and having emptied it at a draught, turned it towards him bottom upwards, with the orthodox twist. Soon, however, things began to look more serious even than I had expected. I knew well that to refuse a toast, or to half empty your glass, was considered churlish. I had come determined to accept my host's hospitality as cordially as it was offered. I was willing, at a pinch, to payer de ma personne; should he not be content with seeing me at his table, I was ready, if need were, to remain under it; but at the rate we were then going it seemed probable that this consummation would take place before the second course: so, after having exchanged a dozen rounds of sherry and champagne with my neighbours, I pretended not to observe that my glass had been refilled; and, like the sea-captain who, slipping away from between his two opponents, left them to blaze at each other the long night through - withdrew from the combat. But it would not do; with untasted bumpers, and dejected faces, they politely waited until I should give the signal for a renewal of hostilities, as they well deserved to be called. Then there came over me a horrid, wicked feeling. What if I should endeavour to floor the Governor, and so literally turn the tables on him! It is true I had lived for five-and-twenty years without touching wine - but was I not my great-grandfather's great-grandson, and an Irish peer to boot? Were there not traditions, too, on the other side of the house, of casks of claret brought up into the dining-room, the door locked, and the key thrown out of the window? With such antecedents to sustain me, I ought to be able to hold my own against the staunchest toper in Iceland! So, with a devil glinting in my left eye, I winked defiance right and left, and away we went at it again for another five-and-forty minutes. At last their fire slackened: I had partially quelled both the Governor and the Rector, and still survived. It is true I did not feel comfortable; but it was in the neighbourhood of my waistcoat, not my head, I suffered. 'I am not well, but I will not out,' I soliloquised, with Lepidus - '??? ??? ?? ??????', I would have added, had I dared. Still the neck of the banquet was broken - Fitzgerald's chair was not yet empty - could we hold out perhaps a quarter of an hour longer, our reputation was established; guess then my horror, when the Icelandic Doctor, shouting his favourite dogma, by way of battle-cry, 'Si triginta guttis morbum curare velis, erras,' gave the signal for an unexpected onslaught, and the twenty guests poured down on me in succession. I really thought I should have run away from the house; but the true family blood, I suppose, began to show itself, and, with a calmness almost frightful, I received them one by one.

After this began the public toasts."

Lord Dufferin, Letters From High Latitudes (1856)

You can guess, in broad outline, where it goes from here.

Specifically, the evening ends with an attempt to catch puffins: "Red-nosed, winged rabbits! I had never heard or read of the species: and I naturally grew enthusiastic in the chase, hoping to bring home a choice specimen to astonish our English naturalists. With some difficulty we managed to catch one or two, which had run into their holes instead of flying away. They bit and scratched like tiger-cats, and screamed like parrots; indeed, on a nearer inspection I am obliged to confess tat they assumed the appearance of birds, which may perhaps account for their powers of flight. A slight confusion still remains in my mind as to the real nature of the creatures."