Perhaps it was the defiance of a newly-made national identity spurning control of an overseas monarchy, but, for whatever reason, the phrase "have a little 'Dutch courage'" remains rooted in the lexicon of America's "New Amsterdam". It's not a nice reference, either, because it implies that you're an utter coward unless you have a strong drink or two before you make any bold moves, which any night on the town would prove correct, rife as bars are with fistfights and amorous advances rejected as easily as one gets drunk.
It's also a clever nod to the infamously "neutral" stance of Switzerland and other Scandinavian countries that backed out of the fight during WWII, to profit instead from the murderous theft of Germany's Third Reich through their banking system, hence the illicit-sounding "Swiss bank account" that recurs in many an old-fashioned spy tale from that era. That's not to say we are immune to the pleasures of tavern life here in New York, or nursing a budding romance over a few cocktails.
Social lubricants are often the glue that binds young lovers together, or as Jerry Seinfeld said on his sitcom (about drinking), "How do you think ugly people get together?!", as he and his best friend Elaine bemoaned the undateable inhabitants of Manhattan. Certainly, people have been looking for draughts of courage to sustain them in lieu of actual bravery for a long, long time. In fact, Rockland County is home to the oldest tavern in New York, and I like to think that on a full-mooned autumn night, the ardor of a man is bolstered by the potency of a drink well-made and even better served. Have at it, then.
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