“Wormwood!” — The little green fairy — All right when you know it, but?―― — The hour of absinthe — Awful effects — Marie Corelli — St. John the Divine — Arrack and bhang not to be encouraged — Plain water — The original intoxicant — Sacred beverage of the mild Hindu — Chi Chi — Kafta, an Arabian delight — Friends as whisky agents — Effervescent Glenlivet — The peat-reek — American bar-keeper and his best customer — “Like swallerin’ a circ’lar saw and pullin’ it up again” — Castor-oil anecdote — “Haste to the wedding!”

We will now proceed to consider certain weird potations, some of which I have personally tested, others of which not all the wealth of Golconda, Peru, and Throgmorton Street would induce me to sample of my own accord, and all of which bring more or less trouble in their wake.

Gall and wormwood have been closely allied from time im-me-mo-rial; and it is in accordance with the eternal fitness of things that the consumption of
Absinthe

should be almost entirely confined to France. And what is absinthe? Merely alcohol, in {116} which have been macerated for a week or so the pounded leaves and flowering tops of wormwood, together with angelica root, sweet-flag root, star-anise, and other aromatics. The liquor is then distilled, and the result is the decoctions sacred to the “little green fairy,” who has accomplished even more manslaughter than the Mahdi, the Khalifa, and the Peculiar People, put together. Of all the liqueurs absinthe is the most pernicious; and with many other sins it occupies some time in taking possession of its victim. Like Mr. Chevalier’s hero, you “have to know it fust,” and after that the rest is easy. Like golf, “scorching,” and gambling, once you “get” absinthe, it gets you, and never leaves you whilst you last; and there is a weird, almost tragic, look about the milky liquid, when diluted with water, as to suggest smoke, and brimstone, and flames, with a demon rising from their midst. But it is only “the little green fairy”; who is, however, as deadly and determined as any demon.

The best absinthe is made in the canton of Neuchatel, Switzerland, and is not made entirely from Wormwood proper, but from a mixture of plants related to it—such as Southernwood (“Old Man”), and another which takes its name from the invulnerable Achilles. But the merry Swiss boy knows a trick worth two of drinking absinthe; so the French get the most of it, whilst some goes to America, and some to the foreign quarters of our great metropolis. The French soldiers learnt to appreciate it, from drinking it as a febrifuge, during the Algerian campaign, 1832–47, and it afterwards became, {117} gradually, a popular drink on the boulevards, where the five o’clock gossip-hour at the cafés came to be known as “the hour of absinthe.” Its use is now forbidden in the French army and navy, and no wonder. The evil effects of drinking it are very apparent: utter derangement of the digestive system, weakened frame, limp muscles, pappy brain, jumpy heart, horrible dreams and hallucinations, with paralysis or idiocy to bring down the curtain.

In that seductive, though gruesome book, Wormwood, Marie Corelli gives a most graphic picture of an absintheur, once a gay young banker, who, through trouble of no ordinary kind, gradually came under the spell of the “green fairy.” I forget how many murders he committed; but his awful experiences and hallucinations will never leave anybody who has read the book. He is haunted for some days by a leopard who accompanies him on his walks abroad, and who lies down at the foot of his bed at night-time—the “jim-jams,” in fact, in their worst form.

“There are two terrible verses,” says a writer on the subject, “in the Revelations of St. John.

    “And the third angel sounded his trumpet, and there fell a great star from the heavens, burning like a lamp, and it fell upon a third part of the rivers and upon the fountains of waters. And the name of the star is called Wormwood; and the third part of the waters became Wormwood, and many men died of the waters because they were made bitter.”

Which seems a very appropriate quotation; {118} yet will men drink of the waters, for although absinthe makes the heart grow blacker, and the pulse more feeble, men—and, occasionally women—will continue, as long as there is a world, to do the thing they ought not to do. With which moralising let us pass to the next objectionable drink,
Arrack.

This is an East Indian name, derived from the Arabic, for all sorts of distilled spirits, but chiefly for the “toddy,” or palm-liquor obtained from the cocoa-palm, as also from rice, and the coarse brown sugar known to the natives as “jaggery.” “Toddy,” when fresh, is a delicious drink, and bears no sort of relationship to whisky-toddy. An almost nude male swarms up a cocoa-palm—assisted by a rope which encircles his ankles and the trunk of the tree—early in the morning, and fetches down the vessel which has been fastened up atop, overnight, to catch the sap which has dripped from the incisions made in the tree. That sap, in its raw state, is delicious—especially with a dash of rum in it, but it ferments rapidly, and usually turns sour in three or four days. Then the natives distil, and make “arrack” of it—a liquor which is sold in the bazaars and drunk on the occasion of a burra din, or festival. Nor is its use confined to natives. The British soldier drinks it, faute de mieux; and occasionally the British officer.

Poor B――, who was in my old regiment, had fuddled himself into such a state of stupidity, that all liquor was forbidden him by the doctor’s {119} orders. I, who shared his bungalow, took particular care that these orders were carried out, and threatened his bearer and khitmugar with fearful penalties should they convey any surreptitious alcohol to the sahib. Still he managed to get it; and it took me a week to find out how. His syce (groom) used to smuggle arrack from the bazaar, and hide it under the horse’s bedding in the stable; and whenever I was away from the house, poor B―― used to creep over to the stable, and “soak” there!

An imitation arrack may be made by dissolving 10 grains of benzoic acid in a pint of rum; but arrack is just the sort of fluid which ought not to be imitated. Give me the honest, manly, simple, beautiful Bass!
Bhang,

another dreadful East Indian drink, and a deadly intoxicant, is distilled from hemp; and if it had only been round the neck of the inventor before he invented it, society would have benefited.
Saké,

the favourite beverage of the Japs, who got it from the Chinese, and improved upon it, is not a desirable swallow. It is a rapid intoxicant, but the over-estimator rapidly recovers the perpendicular. Saké was handed round as a liqueur, at the much-advertised banquet of the “Thirteen Club”; but it is said that the liqueur was in no sub-se-quent request. Not even one of those {120} daring and adventurous mirror-smashers and salt-spillers express the desire to take-on saké “in a moog.”
Vodka

is the “livener” of the Russian peasantry, and is distilled from—what?
Plain Water,

whether fortunately or otherwise, comes under the heading of “Strange Swallows.” It is still consumed in prisons, and other places where sinners and paupers are dieted at the expense of the ratepayer. And hard as are the ways of the transgressor, his daily “quencher” is even harder. “Plain water,” wrote a celebrated Mongolian of his day, “has a malignant influence, and ought on no account to be drunk.” More especially if it be Thames water. I once saw a drop of this, very much magnified, displayed on a stretched cloth, in a side-show at the Crystal Pa............