By Art Carey / The Philadelphia Inquirer
PERFORMED with style and panache, a toast can approach art. It can distinguish you as clever, suave and sophisticated. The trick, as in many endeavors of this sort, is to strive for grace—the achieving of something splendid with beauty and seeming ease.
In this regard, heed the wisdom of Baldassare Castiglione, the 16th-century diplomat and author of The Book of the Courtier. He advocated sprezzatura, an Italian word that means the art of effortless mastery or, more accurately, the appearance of effortless mastery.
This should be your goal—nonchalant excellence—not just when your raise your glass, of course, but in all aspects of life.
Toasting’s origins are shrouded by the proverbial mists of antiquity. Ancient Greeks and Romans hoisted their chalices to ward off divine hissy fits and pay tribute to egomaniacal emperors. Early Christians were wont to clink glasses to keep Satan at bay.
In the Middle Ages, when scores were settled with poison, toasting was a polite way of proving the wine was safe. Vikings quaffed mead from the skulls of fallen foes (hence the modern Scandinavian toast skoal). Freaky Brits stabbed themselves in the arm and mixed their blood in the wine. Oxford lads saluted a fair maiden by grabbing her shoe and using it as a toasting vessel. The term derives from the quaint custom of dropping a piece of toast into a wine goblet. Why this was done is unclear. Some theories: to soften the bread, to make a tasty treat, to filter the wine and/or improve its taste by soaking up the dregs.
Through the ages, toasting has been banned as carnal, profane and pagan, and exalted as “a stimulative to hilarity, and an incentive to innocent mirth, to loyal truth, to pure morality and to mutual affection” (as per The Royal Toastmaster, published in London in 1791).
The early decades of the 20th century were toasting’s golden age, some savants contend. The art of the toast inspired contests, regular newspaper columns, and guides aplenty. In recent times, alas, the toast has become rude, perfunctory, vulgar and banal, reflecting a general decline in manners, civility and eloquence.
Luckily, you can help stem this devolutionary tide when the New Year rolls in a few months from now. Herewith, some suggestions for toasting the New Year—or some other special occasion, such as a best friend’s wedding where you are the best man or the maid of honor—in a distinctive, memorable way.
• Put some effort into it. “If someone asks you to make a toast, it’s really a big compliment and you ought to do a little homework. You ought to take it seriously because it takes a lot of preparation to make anything look easy.” So says Mary Mitchell, author of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Etiquette, which devotes two pages to the subject. “Use your words wisely because people really are listening,” she says. A toast is a small speech; it should have an opening, a body and a conclusion, says Mike Nessle, president of Main Line Toastmasters, a chapter of Toastmasters International, which publishes the booklet Mastering the Toast.
“The best toasts are original and heartfelt. It’s too easy to get caught up in clichés.”
• Keep it short and sweet. “People don’t want you dragging out last year while they’re trying to get on with the New Year,” says John Bridges, co-author with Bryan Curtis of Toasts & Tributes: A Gentleman’s Guide to Personal Correspondence and the Noble Tradition of the Toast. “They’re holding their glasses in the air. They want to sip the champagne. You don’t want the bubbly to go flat while you drone on. A gentleman knows that a well-planned or well-phrased toast should never last longer than 60 seconds.”
And never, ever, read your toast, Mitchell says. If it’s too long to memorize, it’s too long, period.
• Don’t turn it into a contest. “This is not a round robin,” Bridges says. “You’re not out to top the other guy.” A toast from the host and a designated toastmaster is sufficient. Also, this is not your opportunity to show your chops as a stand-up comedian.
• Beware the Irish. They have a way with words, to be sure, which is why so many are poets (and newspaper columnists). Open any collection of toasts and you’ll be amazed how many have Irish roots. Their blarney can be charming, but in the grip of John Barleycorn, the sons of the Olde Sod can wax hopelessly mawkish and sentimental.
Make sure the toast is appropriate for the audience and the occasion. Though the sentiments may be akin, the toast one might raise to Harley-riding bikers in the Pagans’ clubhouse will differ, certainly, from the one offered to blueblood swells at the Merion Cricket Club, if only in the resort to four-letter diction.
“What is the goal?” says Debbie Wolf, vice president of education at SmithKline Speecham, the Toastmasters chapter at Glaxo SmithKline. “Is the goal to be clever and entertaining? Or meaningful and thought-provoking?” As occasions for toasting go, New Year’s Eve is special. “People are in a festive mood, an alcoholically enhanced festive mood,” Bridges says. “There’s more latitude to be rowdy, naughty and bawdy. It’s a time when people are expected to get loud—tastefully loud, for a gentleman”—or gentlewoman—“is never raucous.” A proper New Year’s toast, like Janus, the double-faced Roman god of beginnings and endings, looks backward and forward.
“The main thing is to express high hopes for the new year and happy memories of the past year rather than anything dolorous,” Bridges says. “Keep it upbeat and joyous. Salute the friends who are with you, remember those who aren’t, and be grateful you’re alive for another turn of the calendar.”