Slainte interjection a drinking toast
‘He sank gratefully into the chair, which creaked amiably beneath his weight. He accepted the glass Duncan handed him, and tossed it back with a brief “Slàinte.”’ (A Breath of Snow and Ashes)
Commonly pronounced ‘slanje’, this toast comes from the Gaelic slàinte mhath [slanje-a-va], meaning good health. It is heard all over Scotland and in all other parts of the world wherever Scots Gaelic, Irish Gaelic and good whisky reach.
Of course, slainte doesn’t have to be exclaimed only with a nip of whisky. In David Purves’ translation of Chekhov’s The Thrie Sisters (produced by Theatre Alba in 1999), Vershinin says to Olga: ‘Ah think Ah’l hae a drap o this derk vodka. Slainte! Ah feel that joco [happy] wi you fowk!’
The following usage from Walter Scott’s Redgauntlet (1824) would instead appear to refer to beer - tankards generally being quite large: ‘He took up the tankard, and saying aloud in Gaelic, Slaint an Rey [The King’s health!], just tasted the liquor.’ And from the linguistic mix of James Joyce’s Ulysses (1922) comes a wine toast: ‘There was a fellow I knew once … used to call it his postprandial. Well: slainte! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges.’
In 1944 (14 June) a toast was recorded on the anniversary of the Gordon Highlanders in the Aberdeen Press and Journal: ‘To Aberdeenshire, the great Motherland of the Gordons, I raise my glass … when it comes to golden sovereigns, she is the most generous mistress in broad Scotland. So once more, slàinte mhath, slàinte mhor [great health]!’
Finally, and perhaps a little less elegantly, Matthew Fitt in Kate O’ Shanter’s Tale and Other Poems (2003), gives this toast, covering pretty much all forms of alcoholic drink:
‘a pint o heavy
while ye’re there
a joug o pure fire
a tassie o gaskin wine
a stein o shumhin wikkit
tequila, voddie
slainte mhath
up yir crack’.