CHAPTER XXXII

A HISTORY OF COFFEE IN LITERATURE _The romance of coffee, and its influence on the discourse, poetry, history, drama, philosophic writing, and fiction of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and on the writers of today--Coffee quips and anecdotes_ Any study of the literature of coffee comprehends a survey of selections from the best thought of civilized nations, from the time of Rhazes (850-922) to Francis Saltus. We have seen in chapter III how Rhazes, the physician-philosopher, appears to have been the first writer to mention coffee; and was followed by other great physicians, like Bengiazlah, a contemporary, and Avicenna (980-1037). Then arose many legends about coffee, that served as inspiration for Arabian, French, Italian, and English poets. Sheik Gemaleddin, mufti of Mocha, is said to have discovered the virtues of coffee about 1454, and to have promoted the use of the drink in Arabia. Knowledge of the new beverage was given to Europeans by the botanists Rauwolf and Alpini toward the close of the sixteenth century. The first authentic account of the origin of coffee was written by Abd-al-Kâdir in 1587. It is the famous Arabian manuscript commending the use of coffee, preserved in the Bibliothéque Nationale, Paris, and catalogued as "Arabe, 4590." Its title written in Arabic is as follows: [Arabic] ___ ___ ___ ___ 4 3 2 1 which is pronounced (reading right to left): omdat as safwa fi hall al kahwa ___ ___ ___ _____ 1 2 3 4 or; in the literary style: omdatu s safwati fi hallu 'l kahwati which means--literally, (the corresponding words being underlined and numbered) "The maintenance of purity as ___________ ______ 1 2 regards the legitimacy of coffee." _________ ______ 3 4 or, more freely, "Argument in favor of the legitimate use of coffee." [Arabic] kahwa, is the Arabic word for coffee. The author is Abd-al-Kâdir ibn Mohammad al Ansâri al Jazari al Hanbali. That is, he was named Abd-al-Kâdir, son of Mohammed. _Abd-al-Kâdir_ means "slave of the strong one" (i.e., of God); while _al Ansâri_ means that he was a descendant of the _Ansâri_ (i.e., "helpers"), the people of Medina who received and protected the Prophet Mohammed after his flight from Mecca; _al Jazari_ means that he was a man of Mesopotamia; and _al Hanbali_ that in law and theology he belonged to the well known sect, or school, of the Hanbalites, so called after the great jurist and writer, Ahmad ibn Hanbal, who died at Bagdad A.H. 241 (A.D. 855). The Hanbalites are one of the four great sects of the Sunni Mohammedans. Abd-al-Kâdir ibn Mohammed lived in the tenth century of the Hegira--the sixteenth of our era--and wrote his book in 996 A.H., or 1587 A.D. Coffee had then been in common use since about 1450 A.D. in Arabia. It was not in use in the time of the Prophet, who died in 632 A.D.; but he had forbidden the drink of strong liquors which affect the brain, and hence it was argued that coffee, as a stimulant, was unlawful. Even today, the community of the Wahabis, very powerful in Arabia a hundred years ago, and still dominant in part of it, do not permit the use of coffee. Abd-al-Kâdir's book is thought to have been based on an earlier writing by Shihâb-ad-Dîn Ahmad ibn Abd-al-Ghafâr al Maliki, as he refers to the latter on the third page of his manuscript; but if so, this previous work does not appear to have been preserved. La Roque says Shihâb-ad-Dîn was an Arabian historian who supplied the main part of Abd-al-Kâdir's story. La Roque refers also to a Turkish historian. Research by the author has failed to disclose anything about Shihâb-ad-Dîn save his name (_al Maliki_ means that he belonged to the Malikites, another of the four great Sunni sects), and that he wrote about a hundred years before Abd-al-Kâdir. No copy of his writings is known to exist. The illustrations show the title page of Abd-al-Kâdir's manuscript, the first page, the third page, and the fly leaf of the cover, the latter containing an inscription in Latin made at the time the manuscript was first received or classified. It reads: Omdat al safouat fl hall al cahuat. De usu legitimo et licito potionis quae vulgo Café nuncupatur. Authore Abdalcader Ben Mohammed al Ansâri. Constat hic liber capitibus septem, et ab authore editus est anno hegirae 996 quo anno centum et viginti anni effluxerant ex quo huius potionis usus in Arabia felice invaluerat The translation of the Latin is: Concerning the legitimate and lawful use of the drink commonly known as café by Abdalcader Ben Mohammed al Ansâri. The book is composed in seven chapters and was brought out by the author in the year of the Hegira 996 at which time a hundred and twenty years had passed since the use of this drink had become firmly established in Arabia Felix. _Coffee in Poetry_ The Abd-al-Kâdir work immortalized coffee. It is in seven chapters. The first treats of the etymology and significance of the word cahouah (kahwa), the nature and properties of the bean, where the drink was first used, and describes its virtues. The other chapters have to do largely with the church dispute in Mecca in 1511, answer the religious objectors to coffee, and conclude with a collection of Arabic verses composed during the Mecca controversy by the best poets of the time. De Nointel, ambassador from the court of Louis XIV to the Ottoman Porte, brought back with him to Paris from Constantinople the Abd-al-Kâdir manuscript, and another by Bichivili, one of the three general treasurers of the Ottoman Empire. The latter work is of a later date than the Abd-al-Kâdir manuscript, and is concerned chiefly with the history of the introduction of coffee into Egypt, Syria, Damascus, Aleppo, and Constantinople. The following are two of the earliest Arabic poems in praise of coffee. They are about the period of the first coffee persecution in Mecca (1511), and are typical of the best thought of the day: IN PRAISE OF COFFEE _Translation from the Arabic_ O Coffee! Thou dost dispel all cares, thou art the object of desire to the scholar. This is the beverage of the friends of God; it gives health to those in its service who strive after wisdom. Prepared from the simple shell of the berry, it has the odor of musk and the color of ink. The intelligent man who empties these cups of foaming coffee, he alone knows truth. May God deprive of this drink the foolish man who condemns it with incurable obstinacy. Coffee is our gold. Wherever it is served, one enjoys the society of the noblest and most generous men. O drink! As harmless as pure milk, which differs from it only in its blackness. Here is another, rhymed version of the same poem: IN PRAISE OF COFFEE _Translation from the Arabic_ O coffee! Doved and fragrant drink, thou drivest care away, The object thou of that man's wish who studies night and day. Thou soothest him, thou giv'st him health, and God doth favor those Who walk straight on in wisdom's way, nor seek their own repose. Fragrant as musk thy berry is, yet black as ink in sooth! And he who sips thy fragrant cup can only know the truth. Insensate they who, tasting not, yet vilify its use; For when they thirst and seek its help, God will the gift refuse. Oh, coffee is our wealth! for see, where'er on earth it grows, Men live whose aims are noble, true virtues who disclose. COFFEE COMPANIONSHIP _Translation from the Arabic_ Come and enjoy the company of coffee in the places of its habitation; for the Divine Goodness envelops those who partake of its feast. There the elegance of the rugs, the sweetness of life, the society of the guests, all give a picture of the abode of the blest. It is a wine which no sorrow could resist when the cup-bearer presents thee with the cup which contains it. It is not long since Aden saw thy birth. If thou doubtest this, see the freshness of youth shining on the faces of thy children. Grief is not found within its habitations. Trouble yields humbly to its power. It is the beverage of the children of God, it is the source of health. It is the stream in which we wash away our sorrows. It is the fire which consumes our griefs. Whoever has once known the chafing-dish which prepares this beverage, will feel only aversion for wine and liquor from casks. Delicious beverage, its color is the seal of its purity. Reason pronounces favorably on the lawfulness of it. Drink of it confidently, and give not ear to the speech of the foolish, who condemn it without reason. During the period of the second religious persecution of coffee in the latter part of the sixteenth century, other Arabian poets sang the praises of coffee. The learned Fakr-Eddin-Aboubeckr ben Abid Iesi wrote a book entitled _The Triumph of Coffee_, and the poet-sheikh Sherif-Eddin-Omar-ben-Faredh sang of it in harmonious verse, wherein, discoursing of his mistress, he could find no more flattering comparison than coffee. He exclaims, "She has made me drink, in long draughts, the fever, or, rather, the coffee of love!" The numerous contributions by early travelers to the literature of coffee have been mentioned in chronological order in the history chapters. After Rauwolf and Alpini, there were Sir Antony Sherley, Parry, Biddulph, Captain John Smith, Sir George Sandys, Sir Thomas Herbert, and Sir Henry Blount in England; Tavernier, Thévenot, Bernier, P. de la Roque, and Galland in France; Delia Valle in Italy; Olearius and Niebhur in Germany; Nieuhoff in Holland, and others. Francis Bacon wrote about coffee in his _Hist. Vitae et Mortis_ and _Sylva Sylvarum_, 1623-27. Burton referred to it in his "_Anatomy of Melancholy_" in 1632. Parkinson described it in his _Theatrum Botanicum_ in 1640. In 1652, Pasqua Rosée published his famous handbill in London, a literary effort as well as a splendid first advertisement. Faustus Nairon (Banesius) produced in Rome, in 1671, the first printed treatise devoted solely to coffee. The same year Dufour brought out the first treatise in French. This he followed in 1684 with his work, _The manner of making coffee, tea, and chocolate_. John Ray extolled the virtues of coffee in his _Universal Botany of Plants_, published in London in 1686. Galland translated the Abd-al-Kâdir manuscript into French in 1699, and Jean La Roque published his _Voyage de l'Arabie Heureuse_ in Paris in 1715. Excerpts from nearly all these works appear in various chapters of this work. Leonardus Ferdinandus Meisner published a Latin treatise on coffee, tea, and chocolate in 1721. Dr. James Douglas published in London (1727) his _Arbor yemensis fructum cofè ferens, or a description and history of the Coffee Tree_. This work laid under contribution many of the Italian, German, French, and English scholars mentioned above; and the author mentioned as other sources of information: Dr. Quincy, Pechey, Gaudron, de Fontenelle, Professor Boerhaave, Figueroa, Chabraeus, Sir Hans Sloane, Langius, and Du Mont. 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 cafés of the period. French poets, familiar with Latin, first took coffee as the subject of their verse. Vaniére sang its praises in the eighth book of his _Praedium rusticum_; 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. Abbé Guillaume Massieu'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 _Elogé de Massieu_, 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 Massieu of the French Academy_ (A literal prose translation from the original Latin in the British Museum.) How coffee first came to our shores, 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 chinks 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. [Illustration: CAMEL TRANSPORT BETWEEN HARAR AND DIRE-DAOUA, ABYSSINIA] [Illustration: SUN-DRYING IN LA LAGUNA, PHILIPPINE ISLANDS] [Illustration: 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 refreshing 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 Titan, 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, flourishing 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 passers-by. Hither in crowds from the entire city they assemble, 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 grasses, 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 grass 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 God, 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 mass 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 harass, 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 assailed 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 languishing along with The workers. Some even pretended to have the disease, and Assuming 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 Gods! No other out of the entire list of plants has ever vied with you. On your account sailors sail from our shores And fearlessly conquer the threatening winds, sandbanks and Dreadful rocks. With your nourishing growth you surpass 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. And thus though my palate be dulled by age, With joy I partake of thy dear beverage. How glad I prepare me thy nectar most precious, No soul shall usurp me a rite so delicious; On the ambient flame when the black charcoal burns, The gold of thy bean to rare ebony turns, I alone, 'gainst the cone, wrought with fierce iron teeth. Make thy fruitage cry out with its bitter-sweet breath; Till charmed with such perfume, with care I entrust To the pot on my hearth the rare spice-laden dust: First to calm, then excite, till it seethingly whirls, With an eye all attention I gaze till it boils. At last now the liquid comes slow to repose; In the hot, smoking vessel its wealth I depose, My cup and thy nectar; from wild reeds expressed, America's honey my table has blest; All is ready; Japan's gay enamel invites-- And the tribute of two worlds thy prestige unites: Come, Nectar divine, inspire thou me, I wish but Antigone, dessert and thee; For scarce have I tasted thy odorous steam, When quick from thy clime, soothing warmths round me stream, Attentive my thoughts rise and flow light as air, Awaking my senses and soothing my care. Ideas that but late moved so dull and depressed, Behold, they come smiling in rich garments dressed! Some genius awakes me, my course is begun; For I drink with each drop a bright ray of the sun. Maumenet addressed to Galland the following verses: If slumber, friend, too near, with some late glass should creep-- Dull, poppy-perfumed sleep-- If a too fumous wine confounds at length thy brain-- Take coffee then--this juice divine Shall banish sleep and steam of vap'rous wine, And with its timely aid fresh vigor thou shalt find. Castel, in his poem, _Les Plantes_ (The Plants) could not omit the coffee trees of the tropics. He thus addressed them in 1811: Bright plants, the favorites of Phoebus, In these climes the rarest virtues offer, Delicious Mocha, thy sap, enchantress, Awakens genius, outvalues Parnasse! In a collection of the _Songs of Brittany_ in the Brest library there are many stanzas in praise of coffee. A Breton poet has composed a little piece of ninety-six verses in which he describes the powerful attraction that coffee has for women and the possible effects on domestic happiness. The first time that coffee was used in Brittany, says an old song of that country, only the nobility drank it, and now all the common people are using it, yet the greater part of them have not even bread. A French poet of the eighteenth century produced the following: LINES ON COFFEE _Translation from the French_ Good coffee is more than a savory cup, Its aroma has power to dry liquor up. By coffee you get upon leaving the table A mind full of wisdom, thoughts lucid, nerves stable; And odd tho' it be, 't is none the less true, Coffee's aid to digestion permits dining anew. And what 's very true, tho' few people know it, Fine coffee 's the basis of every fine poet; For many a writer as windy as Boreas Has been vastly improved by the drink ever glorious. Coffee brightens the dullness of heavy philosophy, And opens the science of mighty geometry. Our law-makers, too, when the nectar imbibing, Plan wondrous reforms, quite beyond the describing; The odor of coffee they delight in inhaling, And promise the country to alter laws ailing. From the brow of the scholar coffee chases the wrinkles, And mirth in his eyes like a firefly twinkles; And he, who before was but a hack of old Homer, Becomes an original, and that 's no misnomer. Observe the astronomer who 's straining his eyes In watching the planets which soar thro' the skies; Alas, all those bright bodies seem hopelessly far Till coffee discloses his own guiding star. But greatest of wonders that coffee effects Is to aid the news-editor as he little expects; Coffee whispers the secrets of hidden diplomacy, Hints rumors of wars and of scandals so racy. Inspiration by coffee must be nigh unto magic, For it conjures up facts that are certainly tragic; And for a few pennies, coffee's small price per cup, "Ye editor's" able to swallow the Universe up. Esménard celebrated Captain de Clieu's romantic voyage to Martinique with the coffee plants from the Jardin des Plantes, in some admirable verses quoted in chapter II. Among other notable poetic flights in praise of coffee produced in France mention should be made of: "_L'Elogé du Café_" (Eulogy of Coffee) a song in twenty-four couplets, Paris, Jacques Estienne, 1711; _Le Café_ (Coffee), a fragment from the fourth _chant_ (song) of _La Grandeur de Dieu dans les merveilles de la Nature_ (The Grandeur of God in the Wonders of Nature) Marseilles; _Le Café_, extract from the fourth gastronomic song, by Berchoux; "_A Mon Café_" (To My Coffee), stanzas written by Ducis; _Le Café_, anonymous stanzas inserted in the _Macedoine Poetique_, 1824; a poem in Latin in the Abbé Olivier's collection; _Le Bouquet Blanc et le Bouquet Noir, poesie en quatre chants; Le Café_, C.D. Mery, 1837; _Elogé du Café_, S. Melaye, 1852. Many Italian poets have sung the praises of coffee. L. Barotti wrote his poem, _Il Caffè_ in 1681. Giuseppe Parini (1729-1799), Italy's great satirical and lyric poet and critic of the eighteenth century, in _Il Giorno_ (_The Day_), gives a delightful pen picture of the manners and customs of Milan's polite society of the period. William Dean Howells quotes as follows from these poems (his own translation) in his _Modern Italian Poets_. The feast is over, and the lady signals to the cavalier that it is time to leave the table: Spring to thy feet The first of all, and, drawing near thy lady, Remove her chair and offer her thy hand, And lead her to the other room, nor suffer longer That the stale reek of viands shall offend Her delicate sense. Thee with the rest invites The grateful odor of the coffee, where It smokes upon a smaller table hid And graced with Indian webs. The redolent gums That meanwhile burn, sweeten and purify The heavy atmosphere, and banish thence All lingering traces of the feast. Ye sick And poor, whom misery or whom hope, perchance! Has guided in the noonday to these doors. Tumultuous, naked, and unsightly throng, With mutilated limbs and squalid faces, In litters and on crutches from afar Comfort yourselves, and with expanded nostrils Drink in the nectar of the feast divine That favourable zephyrs waft to you; But do not dare besiege these noble precincts, Importunately offering her that reigns Within your loathsome spectacle of woe! And now, sir, 't is your office to prepare The tiny cup that then shall minister, Slow sipped, its liquor to thy lady's lips; And now bethink thee whether she prefer The boiling beverage much or little tempered With sweet; or if, perchance, she likes it best, As doth the barbarous spouse, then when she sits Upon brocades of Persia, with light fingers, The bearded visage of her lord caressing. This is from _Il Mezzogiorno_ (_Noon_). The other three poems, rounding out _The Day_, are _Il Mattino_ (_Morning_), _Il Vespre_ (_Evening_), and _La Notte_ (_Night_). In _Il Mattino_, Parini sings: Should dreary hypochondria's woes oppress thee, Should round thy charming limbs in too great measure Thy flesh increase, then with thy lips do honor To that clear beverage, made from the well-bronzed, The smoking, ardent beans Aleppo sends thee, And distant Mocha too, a thousand ship-loads; When slowly sipped it knows no rival. Belli's _Il Caffè_ supplies a partial bibliography of the Italian literature on coffee. There are many poems, some of them put to music. As late as 1921, there were published in Bologna some advertising verses on coffee by G.B. Zecchini with music by Cesare Cantino. Pope Leo XIII, in his Horatian poem on _Frugality_ composed in his eighty-eighth year, thus verses his appreciation of coffee: Last comes the beverage of the Orient shore, Mocha, far off, the fragrant berries bore. Taste the dark fluid with a dainty lip, Digestion waits on pleasure as you sip. Peter Altenberg, a Vienna poet, thus celebrated the cafés of his native city: TO THE COFFEE HOUSE! When you are worried, have trouble of one sort or another--to the coffee house! When she did not keep her appointment, for one reason or other--to the coffee house! When your shoes are torn and dilapidated--coffee house! When your income is four hundred crowns and you spend five hundred--coffee house! You are a chair warmer in some office, while your ambition led you to seek professional honors--coffee house! You could not find a mate to suit you--coffee house! You feel like committing suicide--coffee house! You hate and despise human beings, and at the same time you can not be happy without them--coffee house! You compose a poem which you can not inflict upon friends you meet in the street--coffee house! When your coal scuttle is empty, and your gas ration exhausted--coffee house! When you need money for cigarettes, you touch the head waiter in the--coffee house! When you are locked out and haven't the money to pay for unlocking the house door--coffee house! When you acquire a new flame, and intend provoking the old one, you take the new one to the old one's--coffee house! When you feel like hiding you dive into a--coffee house! When you want to be seen in a new suit--coffee house! When you can not get anything on trust anywhere else--coffee house! English poets from Milton to Keats celebrated coffee. Milton (1608-1674) in his _Comus_ thus acclaimed the beverage: One sip of this Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight Beyond the bliss of dreams. Alexander Pope, poet and satirist (1688-1744), has the oft-quoted lines: Coffee which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half-shut eyes. In Carruthers' _Life of Pope_, we read that this poet inhaled the steam of coffee in order to obtain relief from the headaches to which he was subject. We can well understand the inspiration which called forth from him the following lines when he was not yet twenty: As long as Mocha's happy tree shall grow, While berries crackle, or while mills shall go; While smoking streams from silver spouts shall glide, Or China's earth receive the sable tide, While coffee shall to British nymphs be dear, While fragrant steams the bended head shall cheer, Or grateful bitters shall delight the taste, So long her honors, name and praise shall last. Pope's famous _Rape of the Lock_ grew out of coffee-house gossip. The poem contains the passage on coffee already quoted: For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crowned; The berries crackle and the mill turns round; On shining altars of Japan they raise The silver lamp: the fiery spirits blaze: From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, While China's earth receives the smoking tide. At once they gratify their scent and taste. And frequent cups prolong the rich repast Straight hover round the fair her airy band; Some, as she sipped, the fuming liquor fanned: Some o'er her lap their careful plumes displayed, Tre