CHAPTER XX

THE DAYLIGHT DRINK

"Something too much of this."

"A nipping and an eager air."

Evil effects of dram-drinking--The "Gin-crawl"--Abstinence in H.M. service--City manners and customs--Useless to argue with the soaker--Cocktails--Pet names for drams--The free lunch system--Fancy mixtures--Why no Cassis?--Good advice like water on a duck's back.

Whilst holding the same opinion as the epicure who declared that good eating required good drinking, there is no question but that there should be a limit to both. There is, as Shakespeare told us, a tide in the affairs of man, so why should there not be in this particular affair? Why should it be only ebb tide during the few hours that the man is wrapped in the arms of a Bacchanalian Morpheus, either in bed or in custody? The abuse of good liquor is surely as criminal a folly as the abstention therefrom; and the man who mixes his liquors injudiciously lacks that refinement of taste and understanding which is necessary for the appreciation of a good deal of this book, or indeed of any other useful volume. Our grandfathers swore terribly, and drank deep; but their fun did not commence until after dinner. And they drank, for the most part, the best of ale, and such port wine as is not to be had in these days of free trade (which is only an euphemism for adulteration) and motor cars. Although mine own teeth are, periodically, set on edge by the juice of the grape consumed by an ancestor or two; although the gout within me is an heritage from the three-, aye! and four-, bottle era, I respect mine ancestors, in that they knew not "gin and bitters." The baleful habit of alcoholising the inner sinner between meal times, the pernicious habit of dram-drinking, or "nipping," from early morn till dewy eve, was not introduced into our cities until the latter half of the nineteenth century had set in. "Brandy-and-soda," at first only used as a "livener"--and a deadly livener it is--was unknown during the early Victorian era; and the "gin-crawl," that interminable slouch around the hostelries, is a rank growth of modernity.

The "nipping habit" came to us, with other pernicious "notions," from across the Atlantic Ocean. It was Brother Jonathan who established the bar system; and although for the most part, throughout Great Britain, the alcohol is dispensed by young ladies with fine eyes and a great deal of adventitious hair, and the "bar-keep," with his big watch chain, and his "guns," placed within easy reach, for quick-shooting saloon practice, is unknown on this side, the hurt of the system (to employ an Americanism) "gets there just the same." There is not the same amount of carousing in the British army as in the days when I was a "gilded popinjay" (in the language of Mr. John Burns; "a five-and-twopenny assassin," in the words of somebody else). In those days the use of alcohol, if not absolutely encouraged for the use of the subaltern, was winked at by his superiors, as long as the subalterns were not on duty, or on the line of march--and I don't know so much about the line of march, either. But with any orderly or responsible duty to be done, the beverage of heroes was not admired. "Now mind," once observed our revered colonel, in the ante-room, after dinner, "none of you young officers get seeing snakes and things, or otherwise rendering yourselves unfit for service; or I'll try the lot of you by court martial, I will, by ----." Here the adjutant let the regimental bible drop with a bang. Tea is the favourite ante-room refreshment nowadays, when the officer, young or old, is always either on duty, or at school. And the education of the modern warrior is never completed.

But the civilian--sing ho! the wicked civilian--is a reveller, and a winebibber, for the most part. Very little business is transacted except over what is called "a friendly glass." "I want seven hundred an' forty-five from you, old chappie," says Reggie de Beers of the "House," on settling day. "Right," replies his friend young "Berthas": "toss you double or quits. Down with it!" And it would be a cold day were not a magnum or two of "the Boy" to be opened over the transaction. The cheap eating-house keeper who has spent his morning at the "market," cheapening a couple of pigs, or a dozen scraggy fowls, will have spent double the money he has saved in the bargain, in rum and six-penny ale, ere he gets home again; and even a wholesale deal in evening journals, between two youths in the street, requires to be "wetted." Very sad is it not? But, as anything which I--who am popularly supposed to be something resembling a roysterer, but who am in reality one of the most discreet of those who enjoy life--can write is not likely to work a change in the system which obtains amongst English-speaking nations, perhaps the sooner I get on with the programme the better. Later on I may revert to the subject.

Amongst daylight (and midnight, for the matter of that) drinks, the COCKTAIL, that fascinating importation from Dollarland, holds a prominent place. This is a concoction for which, with American bars all over the Metropolis, the cockney does not really require any recipe. But as I trust to have some country readers, a few directions may be appended.

_Brandy Cocktail._

One wine-glassful of old brandy, six drops of Angostura bitters, and twenty drops of curaçoa, in a small tumbler--all cocktails should be made in a small silver tumbler--shake, and pour into glass tumbler, then fill up with crushed ice. Put a shred of lemon peel atop.

_Champagne Cocktail._

One teaspoonful of sifted sugar, ten drops of Angostura bitters, a small slice of pine-apple, and a shred of lemon peel. Strain into glass tumbler, add crushed ice, and as much champagne as the tumbler will hold. Mix with a spoon.

_Bengal Cocktail._

Fill tumbler half full of crushed ice. Add thirty drops of maraschino, one tablespoonful of pine-apple syrup, thirty drops of curaçoa, six drops of Angostura bitters, one wine-glassful of old brandy. Stir, and put a shred of lemon peel atop.

_Milford Cocktail._

(Dedicated to Mr. Jersey.)

Put into a half-pint tumbler a couple of lumps of best ice, one teaspoonful of sifted sugar, one teaspoonful of orange bitters, half a wine-glassful of brandy. Top up with bottled cider, and mix with a spoon. Serve with a strawberry, and a sprig of verbena atop.

_Manhattan Cocktail._

Half a wine-glassful of vermouth (Italian), half a wine-glassful of rye whisky (according to the American recipe, though, personally, I prefer Scotch), ten drops of Angostura bitters, and six drops of curaçoa. Add ice, shake well, and strain. Put a shred of lemon peel atop.

_Yum Yum Cocktail._

Break the yolk of a new-laid egg into a small tumbler, and put a teaspoonful of sugar on it. Then six drops of Angostura bitters, a wine-glassful of sherry, and half a wine-glassful of brandy. Shake all well together, and strain. Dust a very little cinnamon over the top.

_Gin Cocktail._

Ten drops of Angostura bitters, one wine-glassful of gin, ten drops of curaçoa, one shred of lemon peel. Fill up with ice, shake, and strain.

_Newport Cocktail._

Put two lumps of ice and a small _slice_ of lemon into the tumbler, add six drops of Angostura bitters, half a wine-glassful of noyau, and a wine-glassful of brandy. Stir well, and serve with peel atop.

_Saratoga Cocktail._

This is a more important affair, and requires a large tumbler for the initial stage. One teaspoonful of pine-apple syrup, ten drops of Angostura bitters, one teaspoonful of maraschino, and a wine-glassful of old brandy. Nearly fill the tumbler with crushed ice, and shake well. Then place a couple of strawberries in a small tumbler, strain the liquid on them, put in a strip of lemon peel, and top up with champagne.

_Whisky Cocktail._

Put into a small tumbler ten drops of Angostura bitters, and one wine-glassful of Scotch whisky. Fill the tumbler with crushed ice, shake well, strain into a large wine-glass, and place a strip of peel atop.

But the ordinary British "bar-cuddler"--as he is called in the slang of the day--recks not of cocktails, nor, indeed, of Columbian combinations of any sort. He has his own particular "vanity," and frequently a pet name for it. "Gin-and-angry-story" (Angostura), "slow-and-old" (sloe-gin and Old Tom), "pony o' Burton, please miss," are a few of the demands the attentive listener may hear given. Orange-gin, gin-and-orange-gin, gin-and-sherry (O bile where is thy sting?), are favourite midday "refreshers"; and I have heard a well-known barrister call for "a split Worcester" (a small wine-glassful of Worcester sauce with a split soda), without a smile on his expressive countenance. "Small lem. and a dash" is a favourite summer beverage, and, withal, a harmless one, consisting of a small bottle of lemonade with about an eighth of a pint of bitter ale added thereto. In one old-fashioned hostelry I wot of--the same in which the chair of the late Doctor Samuel Johnson is on view--customers who require to be stimulated with gin call for "rack," and Irish whisky is known by none other name than "Cork." The habitual "bar-cuddler" usually rubs his hands violently together, as he requests a little attention from the presiding Hebe; and affects a sort of shocked surprise at the presence on the scene of any one of his friends or acquaintances. He is well-up, too, in the slang phraseology of the day, which he will ride to death on every available opportunity. Full well do I remember him in the "How's your poor feet?" era; and it seems but yesterday that he was informing the company in assertive tones, "Now we _shan't_ be long!" The "free lunch" idea of the Yankees is only thoroughly carried out in the "North Countree," where, at the best hotels, there is often a great bowl of soup, or a dish of jugged hare, or of Irish stew, _pro bono publico_; and by _publico_ is implied the hotel directorate as well as the customers. In London, however, the free lunch seldom soars above salted almonds, coffee beans, cloves, with biscuits and American cheese. But at most refreshment-houses is to be obtained for cash some sort of a restorative sandwich, or _bonne bouche_, in the which anchovies and hard-boiled eggs play leading parts; and amongst other restorative food, I have noticed that parallelograms of cold Welsh rarebit are exceedingly popular amongst wine-travellers and advertisement-agents. The genius who propounded the statement that "there is nothing like leather" could surely never have sampled a cold Welsh rarebit!

_Bosom Caresser._

Put into a small tumbler one wine-glassful of sherry, half a wine-glassful of old brandy, the yolk of an egg, two teaspoonfuls of sugar, and two grains of cayenne pepper; add crushed ice, shake well, strain, and dust over with nutmeg and cinnamon.

_A Nicobine_,

(or "Knickerbein" as I have seen it spelt), used to be a favourite "short" drink in Malta, and consisted of the yolk of an egg (intact) in a wine-glass with _layers_ of curaçoa, maraschino, and green chartreuse; the liquors not allowed to mix with one another. The "knickerbein" recipe differs materially from this, as brandy is substituted for chartreuse, and the ingredients are shaken up and strained, the white of the egg being whisked and placed atop. But, either way, you will get a good, bile-provoking mixture. In the

_West Indies_,

if you thirst for a rum and milk, cocoa-nut milk is the "only wear"; and a very delicious potion it is. A favourite mixture in Jamaica was the juice of a "star" apple, the juice of an orange, a wine-glassful of sherry, and a dust of nutmeg. I never heard a name given to this.

_Bull's Milk._

This is a comforting drink for summer or winter. During the latter season, instead of adding ice, the mixture may be heated.

One teaspoonful of sugar in a _large_ tumbler, half-a-pint of milk, half a wine-glassful of rum, a wine-glassful of brandy; add ice, shake well, strain, and powder with cinnamon and nutmeg.

_Fairy Kiss._

Put into a small tumbler the juice of a quarter of lemon, a quarter of a wine-glassful each of the following:--Vanilla syrup, curaçoa, yellow chartreuse, brandy. Add ice, shake, and strain.

_Flash of Lightning._

One-third of a wine-glassful each of the following, in a small tumbler:--Raspberry syrup, curaçoa, brandy, and three drops of Angostura bitters. Add ice, shake and strain.

_Flip Flap._

One wine-glassful of milk in a small tumbler, one well-beaten egg, a little sugar, and a wine-glassful of port. Ice, shake, strain, and sprinkle with cinnamon and nutmeg.

_Maiden's Blush._

Half a wine-glassful of sherry in a small tumbler, a quarter of a wine-glassful of strawberry syrup, and a little lemon juice. Add ice, and a little raspberry syrup. Shake, and drink through straws.

_Athole Brose_

is compounded, according to a favourite author, in the following manner:--

"Upon virgin honeycombs you pour, according to their amount, the oldest French brandy and the most indisputable Scotch whisky in equal proportions. You allow this goodly mixture to stand for days in a large pipkin in a cool place, and it is then strained and ready for drinking. Epicures drop into the jug, by way of imparting artistic finish, a small fragment of the honeycomb itself. This I deprecate."

_Tiger's Milk._

Small tumbler. Half a wine-glassful each of cider and Irish whisky, a wine-glassful of peach brandy. Beat up separately the white of an egg with a little sugar, and add this. Fill up the tumbler with ice; shake, and strain. Add half a tumbler of milk, and grate a little nutmeg atop.

_Wyndham._

Large tumbler. Equal quantities (a liqueur glass of each) of maraschino, curaçoa, brandy, with a little orange peel, and sugar. Add a glass of champagne, and a _small_ bottle of seltzer water. Ice, and mix well together. Stir with a spoon.

_Happy Eliza._

Put into a skillet twelve fresh dried figs cut open, four apples cut into slices without peeling, and half a pound of loaf sugar, broken small. Add two quarts of water, boil for twenty minutes, strain through a--where's the brandy? Stop! I've turned over two leaves, and got amongst the _Temperance Drinks_. Rein back!

_Mint Julep._

This, properly made, is the most delicious of all American beverages. It is mixed in a large tumbler, in the which are placed, first of all, two and a half tablespoonfuls of water, one tablespoonful of sugar (crushed), and two or three sprigs of mint, which should be pressed, with a spoon or crusher, into the sugar and water to extract the flavour. Add two wine-glassfuls of old brandy--_now_ we shan't be long--fill up with powdered ice, shake well, get the mint to the top of the tumbler, stalks down, and put a few strawberries and slices of orange atop. Shake in a little rum, last of all, and drink through straws.

_Possets._

(An eighteenth-century recipe.)

"Take three gills of sweet cream, a grated rind of lemon, and juice thereof, three-quarters of a pint of sack or Rhenish wine. Sweeten to your taste with loaf sugar, then beat in a bowl with a whisk for one hour, and fill your glasses and drink to the king."

We are tolerably loyal in this our time; still it is problematical if there exist man or woman in Merry England, in our day who would whisk a mixture for sixty minutes by the clock, even with the prospect of drinking to the reigning monarch.

_Brandy Sour._

This is simplicity itself. A teaspoonful of sifted sugar in a small tumbler, a little lemon rind and juice, one wine-glassful of brandy. Fill nearly up with crushed ice, shake and strain. WHISKY SOUR is merely Scotch whisky treated in the same kind, open-handed manner, with the addition of a few drops of raspberry syrup.

_Blue Blazer._

Don't be frightened; there is absolutely no danger. Put into a silver mug, or jug, previously heated, two wine-glassfuls of overproof (or proof) Scotch whisky, and one wine-glassful of _boiling_ water. Set the liquor on fire, and pass the blazing liquor into another mug, also well heated. Pass to and fro, and serve in a tumbler, with a lump of sugar and a little thin lemon peel. Be very particular not to drop any of the blazer on the cat, or the hearth-rug, or the youngest child. This drink would, I should think, have satisfied the aspirations of Mr. Daniel Quilp.

One of the most wholesome of all "refreshers," is a simple liquor, distilled from black-currants, and known to our lively neighbours as

_Cassis._

This syrup can be obtained in the humblest _cabaret_ in France; but we have to thank the eccentric and illogical ways of our Customs Department for its absence from most of our own wine lists. The duty is so prohibitive--being half as much again as that levied on French brandy--that it would pay nobody but said Customs Department to import it into England; and yet the amount of alcohol contained in cassis is infinitesimal. Strange to say nobody has ever started a cassis still on this side. One would imagine that the process would be simplicity itself; as the liquor is nothing but cold black-currant tea, with a suspicion of alcohol in it.

_Sligo Slop._

This is an Irish delight. The juice of ten lemons, strained, ten tablespoonfuls of sifted sugar, one quart of John Jameson's oldest and best whisky, and two port wine-glassfuls of curaçoa, all mixed together. Let the mixture stand for a day or two, and then bottle. This should be drunk neat, in liqueur-glasses, and is said to be most effectual "jumping-powder." It certainly reads conducive to timber-topping.

Take it altogether the daylight drink is a mistake. It is simply ruin to appetite; it is more expensive than those who indulge therein are aware of at the time. It ruins the nerves, sooner or later; it is _not_ conducive to business, unless for those whose heads are especially hard; and it spoils the palate for the good wine which is poured forth later on. The precept cannot be too widely laid down, too fully known:

_Do not drink between Meals!_

Better, far better the three-bottle-trick of our ancestors, than the "gin-crawl" of to-day.