 | The sayings of Dr. Bushwhacker, and other learned men |  |
VII.
Madame Follet.
“MY dear friend,” said the Doctor, holding his
cup in the left hand thumb and forefinger,
with the other three fingers stretched out over the rest
of the table, “I never inhale the fragrance of coffee
without thinking of the old fashioned coffee pot, or
`Madame Follet,' as dear Miss Bremer used to call it.
Do you know, sir—and I suppose you know every thing
—do you know, sir, there are a great many old fashioned
people in the world?”
We replied, the fact was not to be disputed.
“Old fashioned people, sir; old fashioned in dress, in
speech, in politeness, in ideas, in every thing. And, sir,
not long since, I had occasion to visit two old ladies, sir;
I went down stairs to the basement dining room, sir,
without ceremony, sir, and there I found the antiquated
virgins over their coffee, sir; and in the middle of the
table there was the old fashioned tin coffee pot, sir,
scoured as bright as sand could make it, with a great big
superannuated spout, and a great broad backed handle,
sir, and a great big, broad bottom, sir, as broad, sir, as
when I went to visit them as a spruce young buck, in the
year eighteen hundred and twenty, sir.” Here the Doctor's
spectacles fairly glistened again.
“Well, Doctor?”
“Sir,” replied Dr. Bushwhacker, “there was plenty
of silver in the cupboard, plenty; great pots, and coffee
urns of solid metal, sir, with massive handles to match;
but they were so old fashioned as to prefer the old,
scoured, broad bottomed tin pot, sir, and with reason,
too, sir.”
“Give us the reason, thereof, Doctor, if you please.”
“Well, sir, one of the sisters apologized for the coffee
pot in a still, small sort of a voice, a little cracked and
chipped by constant use, and said, the reason why they
drank their coffee out of that pot was because it never
seemed to taste so well out of any thing else.”
“Why not, Doctor?”
“Why not? Easily enough explained, sir; we never
make coffee in a silver urn, and when we pour it from the
vessel in which it is made into another, we lose half the
aroma, sir. Coffee is of most delicate and choice flavor,
sir; very few know how to make it or to use it. The
proper way to make good coffee, sir, is to roast it carefully
in a cylinder over a charcoal fire, until it is of a light
brown color; then the cylinder should be taken off the
fire and turned gently until the berries are thoroughly
cooled. The best part of the aroma is dissipated, sir, by
open dish so soon as it is roasted. Why, sir, any body
can see that the finest part of it escapes; you can smell it,
sir, in every crack and corner of the house. When cooled,
it should be put into a mortar and beat to powder. A coffee
mill only cracks the grains, but a mortar pounds out
the essential oil. Then, sir, put it into an old fashioned tin
coffee pot, pour on the hot water, stand it over a fire, not
too hot; let it simmer gently. If your fire is too hot, it
will burn the coffee and spoil it. Then, sir, take Madam
Follett fresh from the fire, stand her on the table, and if
you want an appreciative friend, send for me!”
“What kind of coffee is the best, Doctor?”
“Mocha, sir, from Arabia Felix. The first Mocha
coffee that ever reached the Land of the Free and the
Home of the Brave direct, sir, came in a ship belonging
to Captain Derby, of Salem, in the year 1801.”
“When was coffee first used in Europe, Doctor?”
“That, my learned friend, is one of `the two or three
things to suggest conversation at the tea table,' as our
friend Willis has it. It is a matter of dispute, my learned
friend, and it will probably be settled after the commentators
have agreed upon the proper way of spelling
the name of Shakspeare, Shaksper, Shagsper, or whatever
you call him.”
“How early was coffee in use in the world?”
“Sherbaddin, an Arab author, asserts that the first
man who drank coffee was a certain Mufti, of Aden, who
1500, my learned friend. So says Dr. Doran. The popular
tradition is, that the superior of a Dervish community,
observing the effects of coffee berries, when eaten
by some goats, rendering them more lively and skittish
than before, prescribed it for the brotherhood, in order
to cure them of drowsiness and indolence. Dickens, in
Household Words, gives a capital account of the old coffee
houses of London. By the way, there is an account,
also, in Table Traits. Here is the book.
`Lend me thine ears.'
—Shagsper.
`The coffee houses of England take precedence of
those of France, though the latter have more enduringly
flourished. In 1652, a Greek, in the service of an English
Turkey merchant, opened a house in London. `I
have discovered his hand bill,' says Mr. Disraeli, `in
which he sets forth the virtue of the coffee drink, first
publiquely made and sold in England, by Pasqua Rosee,
of St. Michael's Alley, Cornhill, at the sign of his own
head.' Mr. Peter Cunningham cites a MS. of Oldys' in
his possession, in which some fuller details of much interest
are given. Oldys says: `The first use of coffee in
England was known in 1657, when Mr. Daniel Edwards,
a Turkey merchant, brought from Smyrna to London one
Pasqua Rosee, a Ragusan youth, who prepared this drink
for him every morning. But the novelty thereof drawing
too much company to him, he allowed his said servant,
with another of his son-in-law's, to sell it publicly; and
they set up the first coffee house in London, in St. Michael's
Alley, Cornhill. But they separating, Pasqua
kept in the house; and he who had been his partner obtained
leave to pitch a tent, and sell the liquor, in St.
that the first vender of coffee in London was one Bowman,
coachman to a Turkey merchant, named Hodges,
who was the father-in-law of Edwards, and the partner
of Pasqua, who got into difficulties, partly by his not being
a freeman, and who left the country. Bowman was
not only patronized, but a magnificent contribution of
one thousand sixpences was presented to him, wherewith
he made great improvements in his coffee house.
Bowman took an apprentice, (Paynter,) who soon learnt
the mystery, and in four years set up for himself. The
coffee houses soon became numerous; the principal were
Farres', the Rainbow, at the Inner Temple Gate, and
John's, in Fuller's Rents.'
“There, sir; and now, my learned friend, I must pay
a visit to that charming lady, Mrs. Potiphar, who is suffering
severely with a neuralgia.”
| The sayings of Dr. Bushwhacker, and other learned men | |