All About Coffee Part 101

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the poets and dramatists of France, Italy, and England found a plentiful supply in what had already been written on coffee; to say nothing of the inspiration offered by the drink itself, and by the society of the cafes of the period.

French poets, familiar with Latin, first took coffee as the subject of their verse. Vaniere sang its praises in the eighth book of his _Praedium rustic.u.m_; and Fellon, a Jesuit professor of Trinity College, Lyons, wrote a didactic poem called, _Faba Arabica, Carmen_, which is included in the _Poemata didascalica_ of d'Olivet.

Abbe Guillaume Ma.s.sieu's _Carmen Caffaeum_, composed in 1718, has been referred to in chapter III. It was read at the Academy of Inscriptions.

One of the panegyrists of this author, de Boze, in his _Eloge de Ma.s.sieu_, says that if Horace and Virgil had known of coffee, the poem might easily have been attributed to them; and Thery, who translated it into French, says "it is a pearl of elegance in a rare jewel case."

The following translation of the poem from the Latin original was made for this work:

COFFEE

_A Poem by Guillaume Ma.s.sieu of the French Academy_

(A literal prose translation from the original Latin in the British Museum.)

How coffee first came to our sh.o.r.es, What the nature of the divine drink is, what its use, How it brings ready aid to man against every kind of evils, I shall here begin to tell in simple verse.

You soft-spoken men, who have often tried the sweetness of this drink, If it has never deceived your wishes or mocked your hopes With its empty results, be propitious and lend a willing ear to our song.

And may you, O Phoebus, kindly be present, to acknowledge As your gift the power of herbs and healthful plants, and to Dispel sad diseases from our bodies; for they say you are The author of this blessing, and may you spread your Gifts among peoples, and everywhere far and wide throughout the entire world.

Across Libya afar, and the seven mouths of the swollen Nile, Where Asia most joyfully spreads in immense fields Rich in various resources and filled with fragrant woods, A region extends. The Sabeans of old inhabited it.

I believe indeed Nature, that best parent of all things, Loved this place more than all others with a tender love.

Here the air of Heaven always breathes more mildly.

The sun has a gentler power; here are flowers of a different clime; And the earth with fertile bosom brings forth various fruits, Cinnamon, casia, myrrh, and fragrant thyme.

Amid the resources and gifts of this blessed land, Turned to the sun and the warm south winds, A tree spontaneously lifts itself into the upper air.

Growing nowhere else, and unknown in earlier centuries, By no means great in size, it stretches not far its Spreading branches, nor lifts a lofty top to heaven; But lowly, after the manner of myrtle or pliant broom, It rises from the ground. Many a nut bends its rich branches.

Small, like a bean, dark and dull in color, Marked by a slight groove in the centre of its hull.

To transplant this growth to our own fields Many have tried, and to cultivate it with great care.

In vain; for the plant has not responded to the zeal And desires of the planters, and has rendered vain their long labor; Before day the root of the tender herb has withered away.

Either this has happened through fault of climate, or grudging Earth refuses to furnish fit nourishment to the foreign plant.

Therefore come thou, whoever shall be possesed by a love for coffee, Do not regret having brought the healthful bean from the far Remote world of Arabia; for this is its bountiful mother country.

The soothing draught first flowed from those regions through other Peoples; thence through all Europe and Asia, and next made its way through the entire world.

Therefore, what you shall know to be sufficient for your needs, Do you prepare long beforehand; let it be your care to have collected Yearly a copious store, and providently fill small granaries, As of yore the farmer, early mindful and provident of the future, Collected crops from his fields and garnered them in his barns, And turned his attention to the coming year.

None the less, meanwhile, must the utensils for coffee be cared for. Let not vessels suited for drinking the beverage be lacking, And a pot, whose narrow neck should be topped by a small cover And whose body should swell gradually into an oblong shape. When these things shall have been provided by you, let your Next care be to roast well the beans with flames, and to grind them when roasted. Nor should the hammer cease to crush them with many a blow, Until they lay aside their hardness, and when thoroughly ground, Become fine powder; which forthwith pack either in a bag or a box made for such uses. And wrap it in leather, and smear it over with soft wax, lest Narrow c.h.i.n.ks be open, or hidden channels.

Unless you prevent these, by a secret path gradually small Particles and whatever of value exists, and the entire strength, Would leave, wasting into empty air.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CAMEL TRANSPORT BETWEEN HARAR AND DIRE-DAOUA, ABYSSINIA]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SUN-DRYING IN LA LAGUNA, PHILIPPINE ISLANDS]

[Ill.u.s.tration: COFFEE SCENES IN THE NEAR AND THE FAR EAST]

There is also a hollow machine, like a small tower, which they Call a mill, in which you can bruise the useful fruit of the Roasted bean and crush it with frequent rubbing; A revolving pivot in the middle, on an easy wheel turning, Twists its metal joints on a creaking stem.

The top of the wheel, you know, is pierced with an ivory handle Which will have to be turned by hand, through a thousand revolutions, And through a thousand circles it moves the pivot.

When you put a kernel in, you will turn the handle with quick hand-- No delay--and you will wonder how the crackling kernel is With much grinding quickly reduced to a powder.

Once only the lower compartment receives on its kindly bosom The crushed grains, which are placed in the very depths of the box.

But why do we linger over these less important matters? Greater things call us. Then is it time to drain the sweet Draught, either under the new light of the early sun In the morning, when an empty stomach demands food; Or, when, after the splendid feasts of a magnificent table The overburdened stomach suffers from too heavy load, and Unequal to the demands made upon it, seeks the aid of external heat. Then come, when now the pot grows ruddy in the fire Crackling beneath, and you shall behold the liquid, swelling With mingled powdered coffee, now bubble around the brim, Draw it from the fire. Unless you should do this, the force of The water would break forth suddenly, overflowing, and would Sprinkle the beverage on the fire beneath. Therefore, let no such accident disturb your joys. You should keep watch carefully when the water no longer Restrains itself and bubbles with the heat; then return The pot to the fire thrice and four times, until the powdered Coffee steams in the midst of the fire and blends thoroughly with the surrounding water.

This soothing drink ought to be boiled with skill, to be drunk With art--not in the way men are wont to drink other beverages--And with reason; for when you shall have taken it steaming from A quick fire, and gradually all the dregs have settled to the Very bottom, you shall not drink it impatiently at one gulp. But rather, sip it little by little, and between draughts Contrive pleasant delays; and sipping, drain it in long draughts, So long as it is still hot and burns the palate. For then it is better, then it permeates our inmost bones, and Penetrating within to the center of our vitals and our marrow, It pervades all our body with its vivifying strength. Often even merely inhaling the odor with their nostrils, men Have welcomed it, when it has bubbled up from the bottom, More refres.h.i.+ng than the breeze. So much pleasure is there in a delicious odor.

And now there remains awaiting us the other part of our task, To make known the secret strength of the divine draught. But who could hope to understand this wonderful blessing Or to be able to pursue so great a miracle in verse? For really, when coffee has quietly glided into your body, Taking itself within, it sheds a vital warmth through your Limbs, and inspires joyous strength in your heart. Then if There is anything undigested, with fire's help, it heats the Hidden channels, and loosens the thin pores, through which the Useless moisture exudes, and seeds of diseases flee from all your veins.

Wherefore come, O you who have a care for your health! You, whose triple chin hangs on your breast, Who drag your heavy stomach of great bulk, It is fitting for you, first of all, to indulge in the warm Beverage; for indeed it will dry the hideous flow of moisture Which oppresses your limbs, and sends forth streams of perspiration from your whole body. And in a short time, the swelling of your fat belly will Gradually begin to decrease, and it will lighten your members, now oppressed by their heavy weight.

O happy peoples, on whom t.i.tan, rising, looks with his first light!

Here, a rather free use of wine has never done harm. Law and religion forbid us to quaff the flowing wine. Here one lives on coffee. Here, then, flouris.h.i.+ng with joyous strength One pursues life and knows not what diseases are, Nor that child of Bacchus and companion of high living--Gout; Nor what innumerable diseases through this union are ready to attack our world.

Yet, indeed, the soothing power of this invigorating drink Drives sad cares from the heart, and exhilarates the spirits. I have seen a man, when he had not yet drained a mighty Draught of this sweet nectar, walk silently with slow gait, His brow sad, and forehead rough with forbidding wrinkles. This same man who had hardly bathed his throat with the sweet Drink--no delay--clouds fled from his wrinkled brow; and He took pleasure in teasing all with his witty sayings. Nor yet did he pursue any one with bitter laughter. For this Harmless drink inspires no desire of offending, the venom Is lacking, and pleasant laughter without bitterness pleases.

And in the entire East this custom of coffee drinking Has been accepted.

And, now, France; you adopt the foreign custom, So that public shops, one after the other, are opened for Drinking Coffee. A hanging sign of either ivy or laurel invites the pa.s.sers-by. Hither in crowds from the entire city they a.s.semble, and While away the time in pleasant drinking.

And when once the feelings have grown warm, acted upon by The gentle heat, then good-humored laughter, and pleasant Arguments increase.

General gaiety ensues, the places about resound with joyous applause.

But never does the liquid imbibed overpower weary minds, but Rather, if ever slumber presses their heavy eyes and dulls The brain; and their strength, blunted, grows torpid in the Body, coffee puts sleep to flight from the eyes, and slothful inactivity from the whole frame. Therefore to absorb the sweet draught would be an advantage For those whom a great deal of long-continued labor awaits And those who need to extend their study far into the night.

And here I shall make known who taught the use of this pleasant Drink; for its virtue, unknown, has lain hidden through many Years; and reviewing, I shall relate the matter from the very beginning.

An Arab shepherd was driving his young goats to the well-known Pastures.

They were wandering through lonely wastes and cropping The gra.s.ses, when a tree heavy with many berries--never seen before--met their eyes. At once, as they were able to reach the low branches, they began To pull off the leaves with many a nibble, and to pluck the tender Growth. Its bitterness attracts. The shepherd, not knowing this, Was meanwhile singing on the soft gra.s.s and telling the story of his loves to the woods. But when the evening star, rising, warned him to leave the field, And he led back his well-fed flock to their stalls, he perceived That the beasts did not close their eyes in sweet sleep, but Joyous beyond their wont, with wonderful delight throughout the Whole night jumped about with wanton leaps. Trembling with sudden Fear, the shepherd stood amazed; and crazed by the sound, he Thought these things were being done through some wicked trick of a neighbor, or by magic art.

Not far from here a holy band of brethren had built their Humble home in a remote valley; their lot it was to chant Praises of G.o.d, and to load his altars with fitting gifts. Although throughout the night the deep-toned bell resounded With great din, and summoned them to the sacred temple, often The coming of dawn found them lingering on their couches, Having forgotten to rise in the middle of the night. So great was their love of sleep!

In charge of the sacred temple, revered and obeyed by his Willing brethren, was the master, an aged man, a heavy ma.s.s of white hair on head and chin. The shepherd, hastening, came to him and told him the story, Imploring his aid. The old man smiled to himself; but He agreed to go, and investigate the hidden cause of the miracle.

When he has come to the hills, he observes the lambs, together With their mothers, gnawing the berries of an unknown plant, And cries, "This is the cause of the trouble!" And saying no More, he at once picks the smooth fruit from the heavily-laden Tree, and carries it home, places it, when washed, in pure Water, cooking it over the fire, and fearlessly drinks a large Cup of it. Forthwith a warmth pervades his veins, a living Force is diffused through his limbs, and weariness is dispelled from his aged body. Then, at length, the old man exulting in the blessing thus found, Rejoices, and kindly shares with all his brothers.

They eagerly At early night-fall, indulge in pleasant banquets and drain great bowls. No longer is it hard for them to break off sweet sleep and to leave their soft beds as formerly. O fortunate ones! whose hearts the sweet draught has often Bathed. No sluggish torpor holds their minds, they briskly Rise for their prescribed duties and rejoice to outstrip the rays of the first light.

You also, whose care it is to feed minds with divine eloquence And to terrify with your words the souls of the guilty, you also Should indulge in the pleasant drink; for, as you know, it Strengthens weakness. Keen vigor is gained for the limbs from This source, and spreads through the whole body. From this source, Too, shall come new strength and new power to your voice. You also, whom oft harmful vapors hara.s.s, whose sick brain the dangerous vertigo shakes, Ah, come! In this sweet liquid is a ready medicine And none other better to calm undue agitation. Apollo planted this power for himself, they say, The story is worthy to be sung.

Once a disease most deadly to life a.s.sailed the disciples of Apollo's Mount. It spread far and wide, and attacked the brain itself. Already all the people of genius were suffering with this Disease; and the arts, deserted, were languis.h.i.+ng along with The workers. Some even pretended to have the disease, and a.s.suming feigned suffering, gave themselves over to an idle life. Unpleasing work grew distasteful, and deadly inertia increased Everywhere. It pleased all, now released from work and labors, To indulge in care-free quiet. Apollo, full of indignation, did not endure longer that the deadly Contagion of such easy ruin should creep over them thus. And, That he might take away from seers all means of deception, he Enticed from the rich bosom of the earth this friendly plant, Than which no other is more ready either to refresh for work the Mind wearied by long studies, or to sooth troublesome sorrows of the head.

O plant, given to the human race by the gift of the G.o.ds! No other out of the entire list of plants has ever vied with you. On your account sailors sail from our sh.o.r.es And fearlessly conquer the threatening winds, sandbanks and Dreadful rocks. With your nouris.h.i.+ng growth you surpa.s.s dittany, Ambrosia, and fragrant panacea. Grim diseases flee from you. To You trusting health clings as a companion, and also the merry Crowd, conversation, amusing jokes, and sweet whisperings.

The poet Belighi toward the close of the sixteenth century composed a poem, which, freely translated, runs:

In Damascus, in Aleppo, in great Cairo, At every turn is to be found That mild fruit which gives so beloved a drink, Before coming to court to triumph.

There this seditious disturber of the world, Has, by its unparalleled virtue, Supplanted all wines from this blessed day.

Jacques Delille (1738-1813) the didactic poet of nature, in _chant vi_ of his "_Three Reigns of Nature_," thus apostrophizes the "divine nectar" and describes its preparation:

DIVINE COFFEE

_Translation from the French_

A liquid there is to the poet most dear, 'T was lacking to Virgil, adored by Voltaire, 'T is thou, divine coffee, for thine is the art, Without turning the head yet to gladden the heart.