The World of Caffeine - The Science and Culture of The World's Most Popular Drug (PDFDrive)
The World of Caffeine - The Science and Culture of The World's Most Popular Drug (PDFDrive)
ROUTLEDGE
New York and London
Published in 2002 by
Routledge
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invented, including photocopying and recording or in any information storage or
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Any omissions or
oversights in the acknowledgments section of this volume are purely unintentional.
Bonnie K.Bealer
dedicates her efforts to Ms. P.H.,
who knows who she is.
Argument
Health and history seen
Through the crystal caffeine
acknowledgments
The authors acknowledge with thanks the research assistance of the staff of the
Library Company of Philadelphia; the staffs of the Free Library of Philadelphia and the
New York Public Library; the staff of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Rights and
Reproductions Department; Lynn Farington and John Pollack, librarians of the
University of Pennsylvania Rare Book Collections; Charles Kline, director of the
University of Pennsylvania Photo Archives; Charles Griefenstein, Historical Reference
Librarian at Philadelphia’s College of Physicians; Ted Lingle, then director of the
Specialty Coffee Association of America; and Paul Barrow, photographer at the Bio-
medical Imaging Center of the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine.
We also thank Thomas Meinl of Julius Meinl, A.G., for generously supplying
photographs, posters, and especially for providing us a transparency of and permission
to reproduce the painting Kolschitzky’s Café, which hangs in the boardroom of Julius
Meinl, A.G.
Three books deserve special mention as rich sources for our text: Coffee and Coffee-
houses, by Richard Hattox; above all, All about Coffee and All about Tea, by William
H. Ukers, merchant and scholar, whose masterworks have been drawn upon extensively
for information and illustrations by nearly every book on coffee and tea written in the
seventy years since their publication.
Our warmest thanks extend to Professor Roland R.Grifftths, Professor of Behavioral
Biology and Neuroscience, Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, who
encouraged our work from the beginning, advised us throughout its early development,
and performed a professional and meticulous review of the medical and scientific
portions of our manuscript in its early stage for which we are very grateful.
And, of course, we thank our editor, Paula Manzanero, who saw merit in our book
and applied her talents and experience to win acceptance for it at Routledge and who,
together with our copy editor, Norma McLemore, and our proofreader, Roland Ottewell,
contributed the insight and diligence that turned our sometimes rough manuscript into a
finished text of which we are proud. For our cover, which is itself a work of art, we
thank Jonathan Herder, art director for Routledge. For the book design and typography,
we thank Jack Donner. And for putting the many pieces together and graciously
accommodating our last-minute emendations, we thank Liana Fredley.
Finally, we warmly acknowledge the help of Antony Francis Patrick Vickery, our
dear friend, who saved the book many times when the text seemed about to disappear
beneath the rough seas of computer problems, patiently and generously devoting
exigent efforts to keep our project afloat, providing advice on content and style, and
extending moral and material support without which this book might never have been
completed.
overview
Caffeine Encounters
The Turks have a drink called Coffee (for they use no wine), so named of a berry as
black as soot, and as bitter, (like that black drink which was in use amongst the
Lacedaemonians, and perhaps the same), which they sip still off, and sup as warm as
they can suffer; they spend much time in those Coffee-houses, which are somewhat like
our Ale-houses or Taverns, and there they sit chatting and drinking to drive away the
time, and to be merry together, because they find by experience that kind of drink so
used helpeth digestion, and procureth alacrity.
—Robert Burton, “Medicines,” Anatomy of Melancholy, 2d ed., 1632
Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage. In China, in the eighth century, it
entered the realm of poetry as one of the polite amusements. The fifteenth century saw
Japan ennoble it into a religion of aestheticism, teaism, a cult founded on the adoration
of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence. It inculcates purity and
harmony, the mystery of mutual charity, the romanticism of the social order.... It
expresses conjointly with ethics and religion our whole point of view about man and
nature.
—Kakuzo Okakura, The Book of Tea, 1906
Caffeine, by any measure, is the world’s most popular drug, easily surpassing
nicotine and alcohol. Caffeine is the only addictive psychoactive substance that has
overcome resistance and disapproval around the world to the extent that it is freely
available almost everywhere, unregulated, sold without license, offered over the counter
in tablet and capsule form, and even added to beverages intended for children. More
than 85 percent of Americans use significant amounts of caffeine on a daily basis; yet
despite that, and despite the fact that caffeine may be the most widely studied drug in
history, very few of us know much about it.
This book is not about drug addiction, the preparation of gourmet beverages, botany,
psychology, religion, social classes, international trade, or love, art, or beauty. But, in
telling the story of the natural and cultural history of caffeine, it necessarily
encompasses all of these topics and many aspects of the human condition. We fully
consider the health effects of caffeine and also present an engaging tour of the
fascinating cultural history of the drug that, through the agency of some of their favorite
beverages, has captivated men and women, young and old, rich and poor, conventional
and bohemian in virtually every society on earth.
Coffee, tea, and cola are the three most popular drinks in the world. They taste and
smell different, but all contain significant amounts of caffeine. From the staggering
demand for these drinks, it is easy to see that caffeine, the common denominator among
them, must be a substance with almost universal appeal that may have stimulated
people for many millennia. Some anthropologists speculate, without hard evidence, that
most of the caffeine-yielding plants were discovered in Paleolithic times, as early as
700,000 B.C. Early Stone Age men, they say, probably chewed the seeds, roots, bark,
and leaves of many plants and may have ground caffeine-bearing plant material to a
paste before ingestion. The technique of infusing plant material with hot water, which
uses higher temperatures to extract the caffeine, was discovered much later. Infusion
brought to popularity the familiar caffeine-containing beverages, coffee, tea, and
chocolate, and the more exotic ones, such as guarana, maté, yoco, cassina, and cola tea.
After the introduction of coffee and tea to the Continent in the seventeenth century,
caffeine quickly achieved a pervasive cultural presence in Europe maintained to this
day. In 1732 Bach composed the “Coffee Cantata,” a pæan with lyrics by the Leipzig
poet Picander, who celebrated the delights of coffee (then forbidden to women of child-
bearing age because of a fear it produced sterility) in the life of a young bride. It
included an aria that translates as, “Ah! How sweet coffee tastes! Lovelier than a
thousand kisses, sweeter far than muscatel wine!” In answer to denunciations of tea,
Samuel Johnson confessed in 1757 to drinking more than forty cups a day, admitting
himself to be a “hardened and shameless tea drinker, who has for twenty years diluted
his meals with only the infusion of this fascinating plant…who with tea amuses the
evening, with tea solaces the midnight, and with tea welcomes the morning.” Thomas
De Quincey, the famous celebrant of opium, wrote, “Tea, though ridiculed by those who
are naturally coarse in their nervous sensibilities, or are become so from winedrinking,
and are not susceptible of influence from so refined a stimulant, will always be the
favored beverage of the intellectual.”
By the twentieth century, the cultural life of caffeine, as transmitted through the
consumption of coffee and tea, had become so interwoven with the social habits and
artistic pursuits of the Western world that the coffee berry had become the biggest cash
crop on earth, and tea had become the world’s most popular drink.
Although the chemical substance caffeine remained unknown until the beginning of
the nineteenth century, both coffee and tea were always recognized as drugs. They
excited far more comment, interest, and concern about the physical and mental effects
we now attribute to their caffeine content than about their enjoyment as comestibles.
You may be surprised to learn that, at the time of their discovery and early use, both
coffee and tea and, much later, cola elixirs, were regarded exclusively as medicines. For
example, Robert Burton, quoted above, who had neither seen nor tasted the beverage,
describes coffee, in the section of his Anatomy of Melancholy devoted to medicines, as
an intoxicant, a euphoric, a social and physical stimulant, and a digestive aid. He explic
itly compares it with both wine and opium. By doing so, he identifies coffee with the
effects of the drug caffeine, which, two hundred years later, scientists were to isolate as
its pharmacologically active constituent.
In England, health claims and warnings, often fanciful, were touted almost as soon as
the first cup of coffee was served. In the early seventeenth century, William Harvey
(1578–1657), the physician famous for describing the circulation of the blood, used
coffee for its medical benefits. In 1657 an English advertisement for coffee read, “A
very whoesom and Physical drink, having many excellent vertues, closes the Orifice of
the Stomack, fortifies the heat within, helpeth Digestion, quickneth the Spirits, maketh
the Heart lightsom, is good against Eye-sores, Coughs, or Colds, Rhumes,
Consumptions, Head-ach, Dropsie, Gout, Scurvy, Kings Evil, and many others.” In
Advice Against Plague, published in 1665, Gideon Harvey (no relation to William), an
English physician and medical writer, counseled, “Coffee is recommended against the
contagion,” that is, against the bubonic plague that was then in the process of killing a
quarter of London’s population. However, there were two sides to this debate: A
translation of an Arabian medical text admonished English readers that coffee “causeth
vertiginous headache, and maketh lean much, occasioneth waking…and sometimes
breeds melancholy.”
The health claims for tea are even older. The Chinese scholar Kuo P’o, in about A.D.
350, in annotating a Chinese dictionary, describes preparing a medicinal drink by
boiling raw, green tea leaves in kettles. Because boiling kills bacteria, the putative
health benefits and claims for longevity may have had some foundation. In England,
during the years of Cromwell’s Protectorate, the importation of tea was made
acceptable only by its sale as a medicinal drink. A typical advertisement in a London
newspaper at the time claimed, “That Excellent and by all Physitians approved China
drink, called by the Chineans Tcha, by other Nations Tay alias Tea.”
The scientific history of caffeine itself began in 1819 when, as Henry Watts reports in
his Dictionary of Chemistry (1863), Friedlieb Ferdinand Runge first isolated the
chemical from coffee.1 In 1827, a scientist named Oudry discovered a chemical in tea
he called “thein,” which he assumed to be a different agent but that was later proved by
another researcher, Jobat, to be identical with caffeine. Pure caffeine is a bitter, highly
toxic white powder, readily soluble in boiling water. It is classified as a central nervous
system stimulant and an analeptic, a drug that restores strength and vigor. After caffeine
is ingested, it is quickly and completely absorbed into the bloodstream, which
distributes it throughout the body. The concentration of caffeine in the blood reaches its
peak thirty to sixty minutes after it is consumed, and, because it has a half-life from two
and one-half hours to ten hours, most of the drug is removed within twelve hours. Other
drugs can affect the way people react to caffeine: For example, smoking can increase
the rate at which caffeine is metabolized by half, while alcohol reduces this rate, and
oral contraceptives can decrease it by two-thirds.
In the twentieth century, medical studies have credibly linked caffeine to causing or
aggravating PMS, lowering rates of suicide and cirrhosis, fostering more efficient use of
glycogen and other energy sources such as body fat and blood sugars, improving
performance of simple tasks, impairing short-term memory, potentiating analgesics,
improving athletic performance, causing insomnia, alleviating migraine headaches,
depressing appetite, relieving asthma, and so on. There remains considerable ambiguity
about many of these putative effects. For example, some researchers have found that
caffeine improves mood and performance only when people are aware that they have
consumed it, which if true would mean that even the most widely acknowledged results
of taking the drug are simply placebo effects!
However, if you have any doubt that caffeine is a drug, and a potent one, consider
that a dose of only 1 gram, equivalent to about six strong cups of coffee, may produce
insomnia, restlessness, ringing in the ears, confusion, tremors, irregular heartbeat, fever,
photophobia, vomiting, and diarrhea. Severe intoxication may also cause nausea,
convulsions, and gastrointestinal hemorrhage. The lethal dose for a two-hundred-pound
adult is estimated at about 10 to 15 grams. Sudden withdrawal from caffeine-containing
beverages frequently results in headaches, irritability, and difficulty concentrating.
The discovery of the enjoyment of coffee beans is credited by one legend to Kaldi, an
Ethiopian goatherd said to have lived in the sixth or seventh century, who noticed that
his goats became unusually frisky after grazing on the fruit of certain wild bushes.
Some say that, in coffee’s early days, Arabian peoples used the drink in a way still
practiced in parts of Africa in the nineteenth century: They crushed or chewed the
beans, fermented the juice, and made a wine they called “qahwa,” the name for which
is probably the root of our word “coffee.” The first written mention of coffee occurs in
tenth-century Arabian manuscripts. Possibly as early as the eleventh century or as late
as the fifthteenth century, the Arabs began to make the hot beverage, for which they
used the same name as the wine.
In the seventeenth century, at the same time that coffee was introduced to Europe
from Turkey, Dutch traders brought tea home from China. In 1657 Thomas Garraway, a
London pub proprietor, claimed to be the first to sell tea to the general public. The word
“tea” is derived from the Chinese Amoy dialect word “t’e,” pronounced “tay.” In
China, tea had been cultivated as a drink since, if Chinese legends are to be believed,
the time of the Chinese emperor Shen Nung, to whom the discovery of tea, the
invention of the plow, husbandry, and the exposition of the curative properties of plants
are traditionally credited. An entry in his medical records dated 2737 B.C. (although
certainly interpolated by a commentator much later) states that tea “quenches thirst” and
also “lessens the desire for sleep.” As illustrated in the quotation above from Kakuzo
Okakura, tea, after its arrival in Japan around A.D. 600, became the center of an
elaborate ritualized enjoyment that distilled much of the essence of Japanese culture. In
Europe, even though it was very expensive, tea’s use spread quickly throughout all
levels of society and in certain circles displaced coffee as the favorite beverage.
John Evelyn, an English diarist and art connoisseur, writing in his Memoirs, in an
entry dated 1637, describes the first recorded instance of coffee drinking in England:
“There came in my time to the College, one Nathaniel Conopios, out of Greece…. He
was the first I saw drink coffee; which custom came not into England until thirty years
after.”2 Perhaps because of the bohemian daring that infests universities and the early
example set by Conopios, the first coffeehouse in England opened in Oxford in 1650. It
was followed in 1652 by the first London coffeehouse, in St. Michael’s Alley, off
Cornhill, under the proprietorship of an Armenian immigrant, Pasqua Rosée. The story
of these English coffeehouses and a host of others over the next fifty years, at which not
only coffee but tea and chocolate were commonly served, is a colorful chapter in
literary, political, business, and social history. Often the occasion for lively discussion,
visits to these early coffeehouses were recorded in the diaries of Samuel Pepys and
many other contemporary sources. By the beginning of the eighteenth century, English
café society had become so sophisticated that the noted social observer Sir Richard
Steele was able to assign conversational specialties to the London houses: “I date all
gallantry, pleasure and entertainment…under the article of White’s; all poetry from
Will’s; all foreign and domestic news from St. James’s, and all learned articles from the
Grecian.”3
Curiously, neither coffee nor tea was responsible for the first infusion of caffeine into
European bloodstreams: Chocolate, hailing from South America and carried across the
Atlantic by the Spaniards, beat them to the punch by over fifty years. It was received
with considerable favor, and, from the mid-seventeenth century, was often served
alongside more caffeine-rich drinks in such London coffeehouses as the Cocoa Tree, a
favorite hangout of the literati in the early eighteenth century. Chocolate has a much
smaller amount of caffeine than coffee, tea, or colas. However, it contains large
amounts of the stimulant theobromine, a chemical with a pharmacological profile
somewhat similar to that of caffeine. The presence of theobromine augments the effects
of the caffeine and probably helps to account for chocolate’s popularity, which rivals
that of the beverages with significantly higher amounts of caffeine.
Caffeine-bearing beverages are so common in the late twentieth century that it is
difficult for us to imagine the curiosity, wonder, excitement, fanfare, disapproval,
intrigue, and even reverence that surrounded their early use in the East and attended
their introduction to the West. Today the culture of caffeine is experiencing a
renaissance in the dramatic increase of cafés and coffeehouses occurring in virtually
every major American city; and there can be no doubt that the ancient Turkish tradition
of meeting at cafés to discuss, gossip, mingle, and relax, carried forward by the English
coffeehouse institution, has come to life around us. In the workplace, most Americans
have developed a deep sympathy with T.S.Eliot’s J.Alfred Prufrock, who said, “I have
measured out my life in coffee spoons.” The story of caffeine, as a controversial drug of
work and play, is what we explore in the pages that follow.
prologue
The Discovery of Caffeine
Although caffeine-bearing plants may have been used for their pharmacological
effects from before recorded history, it was not until the flowering of interest in plant
chemistry in Europe in the beginning of the nineteenth century that caffeine itself was
first isolated and named. The discovery was made by Friedlieb Ferdinand Runge, a
young physician, in 1819 as a result of an encounter with the seventy-year-old Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe, baron of the German empire, one of the greatest poets the world
had seen, and the preeminent intellectual and cultural hero of the Europe of his day.
Runge was born in Billwärder, a small town near Hamburg, Germany, on February 8,
1794, a pastor’s son and the third of what was to become a family of seven children. As
a boy, Runge demonstrated the scientific curiosity and sharp powers of observation that
presaged his creative career in analytical chemistry. While he was preparing a medicine
from the juice of the deadly nightshade, or belladonna plant, a drop splashed
accidentally into his eye, and he noticed that the pupil dilated and his vision blurred.
Ten years later, just after Runge completed a medical degree at the University of Jena,
his early observation brought him the audience with Goethe that would lead to the
discovery of caffeine.
Although Goethe’s reputation throughout his lifetime rested primarily on poetic
genius, in his mature years he became an avid and accomplished amateur scientist,
pursuing a broad range of empirical studies, including optics, pharmacy, chemistry,
botany, biology, mineralogy, and meteorology. In his 1790 monograph on plant
development and his essays on animal morphology, Goethe conceived of organic
evolution and anticipated significant aspects of Darwin’s theory.1
We know that caffeine and alcohol had enlivened his youthful transports, for, as
Goethe approached his thirtieth birthday in 1779, he resolved to lead a purer life and
later that year rejoiced in having cut his consumption of wine in half and significantly
reduced his intake of coffee. Despite having frequented the Café Greco in Rome and
Café Florian in Venice during his life-altering Italian sojourn, he evidently continued in
the conviction that coffee contained a drug deleterious when taken in excess, for in his
fortieth year he wrote to Charlotte von Stein, rejoining to her criticisms of his character
by charging that she was again indulging in coffee, despite having forsworn this habit as
part of their covenant to lead spiritual and exemplary lives.
In his soberer middle years Goethe outgrew the influences of cabalistic alchemy and
mysticism. He became interested in an inquiry into the “secret encheiresis” or hidden
handiwork and connections, of nature, the sort of investigations proper to the rapidly
developing analytical sciences of his day.2 During this period of his life, it is not
surprising that Goethe’s earlier somewhat inchoate reservations about coffee should
have been supplanted by pointed curiosity about its pharmacological constituents and
medical effects. Goethe must have questioned his prior misgivings about the beverage
after learning that the medical faculties at the Universities of Jena and Wittenberg,
where he had seated his intellectual court, harbored a venerable tradition promoting the
pharmacological and medicinal value of both coffee and tea. As Fielding H.Garrison
explains in his History of Medicine (1929), the followers of the leading Dutch physician
Franciscus Sylvius (1614–72), such as his countryman Stephan Blankaart, “had
recommended enormous quantities of the newly important novelties, tea and coffee, as
panaceas for acidity and blood purifiers. The universities of Jena and Wittenberg
espoused his [Sylvius’s] doctrines.”3
In his voluminous autobiographical writings and diaries, Goethe makes only a few
passing references to his two brief encounters with Runge. In notes made in 1819, he
comments on meeting, “a young Chemicus, by the name of Runge, who seems to me to
be quite promising.” Naturally, the meeting had much more significance for the young
scientist. Fifty years later, Runge was still talking and writing about the interview with
excitement and pride, and, in an article published in 1866, he related the story of his
audience and how it led to the discovery of caffeine.
At the time of his encounter with Goethe, Runge was twenty-five and studying under
the great chemist Johann Wolfgang Döbereiner (1780–1849), whose important
theoretical work contributed to the development of the periodic table. As it happens,
Döbereiner was greatly admired by Goethe, served as his chemical advisor, and was one
of several scientists with whom Goethe maintained a close connection during his later
years. Runge was pursuing research into plant chemistry, and Döbereiner brought his
discoveries to Goethe’s attention. Goethe, fascinated when Döbereiner told him of
Runge’s ability to dilate the eye of his cat at will with belladonna extract, asked that the
gifted student visit him to demonstrate the feat.
Wearing a high hat and tails borrowed for the occasion, and carrying his pet under his
arm, Runge attracted considerable notice from his fellow students (who had nick-named
him “Gift,” or “Poison,” because of his investigations into toxic chemicals) as he made
his way through the Jena marketplace to keep his appointment. Runge relates that their
amusement changed to awe when he told them whom he was hurrying to meet.
It was natural that they should have felt awe. By 1819 Goethe, Europe’s first great
literary celebrity, had long been one of the most famous and sought-after men on the
Continent.4 Goethe’s celebrity grew until, as Auden tells us in his foreword to Werther,
“during the last twenty years or so of Goethe’s life, a visit to Weimar and an audience
with the Great Man was an essential item on the itinerary of any cultivated young man
making his Grand Tour of Europe.”5
Imagine the youthful Runge, draped in his borrowed formal frock coat, ruddy-
cheeked, clutching his cat firmly in his arms, as he proudly but nervously tells the story
of his teenage accident. He performs the requested experiment by placing a few drops
of belladonna extract in the cat’s eye. Goethe is impressed by the dramatic results, and,
as Runge stands to leave, the aging poet reaches over his desk, a small box of rare
Arabian mocha coffee beans in his hand, admonishing his visitor to perform an analysis
of the contents. At this moment Runge, in leaning forward to accept the precious gift,
fails to notice as his cat bounds off toward the corner of the room.
Runge, excited by his gift, starts to leave without his pet.
“You are forgetting your famulus” Goethe tells him, humorously alluding to the
magical animal companions that were supposed to have attended the alchemists of an
earlier day.
Runge returned to his laboratory and within a few months had successfully extracted
and purified caffeine.
“He was right,” Runge wrote later, referring to Goethe’s belief in the value of
studying coffee. “For soon after I discovered in these beans the caffeine that has
become so famous.”
Exigent and orderly, but energetic and good-spirited, Runge, who never married, was
devoted to scientific studies. His visit with Goethe led him to a brilliant career in purine
chemistry. In 1819, in addition to isolating caffeine, he was the first to discover quinine,
although virtually all sources erroneously award this honor to Pierre Joseph Pelletier
(1788–1842) and Jean Bienaimé Caventou (1795–1877). After completing his studies at
Jena, Runge returned to the University of Berlin, where he earned a doctorate in
chemistry in 1822. He then took his own Grand Tour of Europe, a trip that lasted more
than three years. After returning to Germany, he served for a few years as extraordinary
professor of technical chemistry at the University of Breslau. Finding academia
unreceptive to his practical interests, he ended his academic career in 1831, taking a job
in a chemical factory where he investigated and developed synthetic dyes. In 1833 he
was the first to make aniline blue, a discovery of major importance, as it was the earliest
artificial organic coloring prepared from a product of coal tar. As a result of such
investigations by Runge and his contemporaries, coal tar became the basis of several
major industries by making possible the synthesis of dyes, drugs, explosives, flavorings,
perfumes, preservatives, resins, and paints. Runge was also a pioneer in and, some
would account, the inventor of paper chromatography, still a vital tool in chemical
analysis for resolving a chemical mixture into its component compounds.
In 1850 E.E.Cochius, the business director of the company for which Runge worked,
managed to acquire ownership of the company. For a long time he had considered his
position and authority threatened by Runge’s farsighted suggestions for the
development of new coal-tar technologies. And so in 1852 he dismissed Runge,
granting him a small pension and allowing him to continue living in the small company
house that had been his home for years.
As a result of ill will arising from a dispute over the rights to a process Runge had
developed for making artificial guano, Cochius’ widow, who had inherited the chemical
plant following her husband’s suicide, fought a successful legal battle in 1856 to evict
him from his house and reduce his pension. Moving to a nearby house owned by a
friend, Runge spent the last ten years of his life “in the company of a few chosen
companions…puttering a little, writing much for newspapers and magazines.”6 One of
the most brilliant technical chemists of the nineteenth century, Runge died in poverty
and relative obscurity in 1867. Two years after his death, the German Chemical Society
collected donations to place a memorial at his grave. In 1873 they erected an obelisk
with a bronze medallion showing a relief of Runge’s profile.
Scientific discovery was rife in Germany at the inception of the nineteenth century,
and Runge’s analytical work was by no means pursued in isolation. Perhaps the most
important precursor to his discovery of caffeine was the isolation of morphine by
Frederich Wilhelm Adam Serturner, who, in 1803, at the age of twenty, had identified it
as the active principle of opium (the so-called principium somniferum,7 to which he
later gave the name “morphine”). At the same time he formulated the concept of the
alkaloid, a member of a class of organic compounds composed of carbon, hydrogen,
nitrogen, and usually oxygen that are generally derived from plants. Many alkaloids
present a double face, exhibiting both poisonous and curative properties. Caffeine and
morphine are both alkaloids, and other alkaloids discovered around this same time
include strychnine, quinine, nicotine, atropine, and cocaine. Serturner’s work made it
possible for doctors to prescribe a precise dose of the pure morphine alkaloid itself,
instead of a weight of plant matter or extract, which carried a host of impurities and an
uncertain amount of the therapeutic drug itself.
If Goethe had never met Runge, never presented him with that gift of mocha beans,
would caffeine have lain undiscovered for untold years? It might tickle the romantic
fancy to think so, but the facts are otherwise. At least four scientists, including Pierre-
Jean Robiquet and the team of Pierre Pelletier and Caventou, are reliably credited with
the independent discovery of caffeine within only a year or two of Runge’s work.
Serturner himself, without having heard of Runge’s results, duplicated Runge’s find in
1820. Cofeina appeared in 1823 in the Dictionnaire des termes de médecine, and
“caffein” was used by the German physician Gustav Theodore Fechner in 1826. And
when Jobat,8 in 1840, discovered Oudry’s “thein” in tea to be identical with caffeine, it
was recognized that the stimulating and mood-altering effects of both coffee and tea
were the result of their caffeine content. In 1843 caffeine was isolated from mat (a
South American plant infused as an energizing beverage), and it was found in cola nuts
in 1865. On July 22, 1869, the London Daily News reported “A piece of kaffeine, of the
size of a breakfast plate, produced from 120 pounds of coffee.” It would seem that the
time for the discovery of caffeine had come.
Profile of Runge, bronze memorial medallion erected at his gravesite. A painting also
exists of Runge drinking his synthetic wine, perhaps toasting his discoveiy of caffeine.
In addition to pursuing his serious chemical investigations, Runge was a fine chef who
loved to give dinner parties to exhibit his skills. He was also very interested in
household tasks and applied his chemical knowledge to stain removal, canning meats
and vegetables, and making wines from fruits. (Courtesy of Goethe and Pharmacy,
G.Urdang, American Institute of the History of Pharmacy, Madison)
caffeine in history
1
coffee
Arabian Origins
The earliest employment of [coffee and tea] is veiled in as deep a mystery as that which
surrounds the chocolate plant One can only say that…they have all been used from time
immemorial, and that all three are welcome gifts from a rude state of civilization to the
highest which exists today. By the savages and the Aztecs of America, by the roving
tribes of Arabia, and by the dwellers in the farther East, the virtues of these three plants
were recognized long before any one of them was introduced into Europe.
—William Baker, The Chocolate Plant and Its Products, 1891
With every cup of coffee you drink, you partake of one of the great mysteries of
cultural history. Despite the fact that the coffee bush grows wild in highlands through-
out Africa, from Madagascar to Sierra Leone, from the Congo to the mountains of
Ethiopia, and may also be indigenous to Arabia, there is no credible evidence coffee
was known or used by anyone in the ancient Greek, Roman, Middle Eastern, or African
worlds.1 Although European and Arab historians repeat legendary African accounts or
cite lost written references from as early as the sixth century, surviving documents can
incontrovertibly establish coffee drinking or knowledge of the coffee tree no earlier
than the middle of the fifteenth century in the Sufi monasteries of the Yemen in
southern Arabia.2
The myth of Kaldi the Ethiopian goatherd and his dancing goats, the coffee origin
story most frequently encountered in Western literature, embellishes the credible
tradition that the Sufi encounter with coffee occurred in Ethiopia, which lies just across
the narrow passage of the Red Sea from Arabia’s western coast. Antoine Faustus
Nairon, a Maronite who became a Roman professor of Oriental languages and author of
one of the first printed treatises devoted to coffee, De Saluberrimá Cahue seu Café
nuncupata Discurscus (1671), relates that Kaldi, noticing the energizing effects when
his flock nibbled on the bright red berries of a certain glossy green bush with fragrant
blossoms, chewed on the fruit himself. His exhilaration prompted him to bring the
berries to an Islamic holy man in a nearby monastery. But the holy man disapproved of
their use and threw them into the fire, from which an enticing aroma billowed. The
roasted beans were quickly raked from the embers, ground up, and dissolved in hot
water, yielding the world’s first cup of coffee. Unfortunately for those who would
otherwise have felt inclined to believe that Kaldi is a mythopoeic emblem of some
actual person, this tale does not appear in any earlier Arab sources and must therefore
be supposed to have originated in Nairon’s caffeine-charged literary imagination and
spread because of its appeal to the earliest European coffee bibbers.
Another origin story, attributed to Arabian tradition by the missionary Reverend
Doctor J.Lewis Krapf, in his Travels, Researches and Missionary Labors During
Eighteen Years Residence in Eastern Africa (1856), also ascribes to African animals an
essential part in the early progress of coffee. The tale enigmatically relates that the civet
cat carried the seeds of the wild coffee plant from central Africa to the remote Ethiopian
mountains. There the plant was first cultivated, in Arusi and Ilta-Gallas, home of the
Galla warriors. Finally, an Arab merchant brought the plant to Arabia, where it
flourished and became known to the world.3 The so-called cat to which Krapf refers is
actually a cat-faced relative of the mongoose. By adducing its role in propagating
coffee, Krapf’s tale was undoubtedly referencing the civet cat’s predilection for
climbing coffee trees and pilfering and eating the best coffee cherries, as a result of
which the undigested seeds are spread by means of its droppings. (For a modern update
of this story, see the discussion of Kopi Luak, chapter 12.)
Both stories, of prancing goats and wandering cats, reflect the reasonable supposition
that Ethiopians, the ancestors of today’s Galla tribe, the legendary raiders of the remote
Ethiopian massif, were the first to have recognized the energizing effect of the coffee
plant. According to this theory, which takes its support from traditional tales and current
practice, the Galla, in a remote, unchronicled past, gathered the ripe cherries from wild
trees, ground them with stone mortars, and mixed the mashed seeds and pulp with
animal fat, forming small balls that they carried for sustenance on war parties. The flesh
of the fruit is rich in caffeine, sugar, and fat and is about 15 percent protein. With this
preparation the Galla warriors devised a more compact solution to the problems of
hunger and exhaustion than did the armies of World Wars I and II, who carried caffeine
in the form of tablets, along with chocolate bars and dried foodstuffs.
James Bruce of Kinnarid, F.R.S. (1730–94), Scottish wine merchant, consul to
Algiers and the first modern scientific explorer of Africa, left Cairo in 1768 via the Red
Sea and traveled to Ethiopia. There he observed and recorded in his book, Travels to
Discover the Source of the Nile (1790), the persistence of what are thought to have been
these ancient Gallæn uses of coffee:
The Gallæ is a wandering nation of Africa, who, in their incursions into Abyssinia, are
obliged to traverse immense deserts, and being desirous of falling on the towns and
villages of that country without warning, carry nothing to eat with them but the berries
of the Coffee tree roasted and pulverized, which they mix with grease to a certain
consistency that will permit of its being rolled into masses about the size of billiard
balls and then put in leathern bags until required for use. One of these balls, they claim
will support them for a whole day, when on a marauding incursion or in active war,
better than a loaf of bread or a meal of meat, because it cheers their spirits as well as
feeds them.4
Other tribes of northeastern Africa are said to have cooked the berries as a porridge
or drunk a wine fermented from the fruit and skin and mixed with cold water. But,
despite such credible inferences about its African past, no direct evidence has ever been
found revealing exactly where in Africa coffee grew or who among the natives might
have used it as a stimulant or even known about it there earlier than the seventeenth
century.
Yet even without the guidance of early records, we can judge from the plant’s
prevalence across Africa in recent centuries that coffee was growing wild or under
cultivation throughout that continent and possibly other places during the building of
the Pyramids, the waging of the Trojan War, the ascendancy of Periclean Athens, and
the conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great, and that it continued to flower, still
largely unknown, through the rise and fall of the Roman Empire and the early Middle
Ages.
If this is so, then why was coffee’s descent from the Ethiopian massif and entry into
the wide world so long delayed? It is true that some of the central African regions in
which coffee probably grew in the remote past remained impenetrable until the
nineteenth century, and their inhabitants had little or no contact with men of other
continents. But the Ethiopian region itself has been known to the Middle East and
Europe alike for more than three thousand years. Abyssinia, roughly coextensive with
Ethiopia today, long enjoyed extensive trading, cultural, political, and religious
interactions with the more cosmopolitan empires that surrounded it. Abyssinia was a
source of spices for Egypt from as early as 1500 B.C. and continues as a source today.
The Athenians of Periclean Athens knew the Abyssinian tribes by name. Early Arabian
settlers came from across the narrow Red Sea and founded colonies in Abyssinia’s
coastal regions. It is inescapable that this area, although far from being a political and
social hub, was known to outsiders throughout history. The discovery of coffee,
therefore, is one that ancient or medieval European or Middle Eastern traders, soldiers,
evangelists, or travelers should have been expected to have made very early, here, if
nowhere else. The fact remains that, for some unknown reason, they did not.5
As to the choice thereof, that of a lemon color, light, and of a good smell, is the best; the
white and the heavy is naught. It is hot and dry in the first degree, and, according to
others, cold in the first degree. It fortifies the members, cleans the skin, and dries up the
humidities that are under it, and gives an excellent smell to all the body.9
The name “Avicenna” is the Latinized form of the Arabic Ibn Sina, a shortened
version of Abu Ali al-Husain Ibn Abdollah Ibn Sina. He was born in the province of
Bokhara, and when only seventeen years old he cured his sultan of a long illness and
was, in compensation, given access to the extensive royal library and a position at
court.10 Avicenna himself is credited with writing more than a hundred books. Some of
his admirers claim, perhaps too expansively, that modern medical practice is a
continuation of his system, which framed medicine as a body of knowledge that should
be clearly separated from religious dogma and be based entirely on observation and
analysis.11
Leonhard Rauwolf (d. 1596), a German physician, botanist, and traveler and the first
European to write a description of coffee, which he saw prepared by the Turks in
Aleppo in 1573, was familiar with these Islamic medical references:
In this same water they take a fruit called Bunn, which in its bigness, shape and color is
almost like unto a bayberry with two thin shells surrounded, as they inform me, are
brought from the Indies; but as these in themselves are, and have within them, two
yellowish grains in two distinct cells, being they agree in their virtue, figure, looks, and
name with the Buncham of Avicenna and the Bunca of Rasis ad Almans exactly;
therefore I take them to be the same.12
It was no accident that Rauwolf and other early European writers on coffee should
have been acquainted with Avicenna’s Canon of Medicine, which, following its
translation into Latin in the twelfth century by Italian orientalist Gerard Cremonensis
(1114–87), became the most respected book in Europe on the theory and practice of
medicine. Few books in history have been as widely distributed or as important in the
lives and fortunes of so many people around the world.13 The Canon was required
reading at the university of Leipzig until 1480 and that of Vienna until nearly 1600. At
Montpellier, France, a major center of medical studies, where Dr. Daniel Duncan was to
write Wholesome Advise against the Abuse of Hot Liquors, Particularly of Coffee,
Chocolate, Tea (1706), it remained a principal basis of the curriculum until 1650.14
The fact that the Canon apparently mentions the coffee plant and the coffee beverage,
describing them in the same humoral terms used by later physicians and ascribing to
them several of the actions of the drug we now know is caffeine, makes the stunning
silence about coffee in the Middle East and Europe, from Avicenna, in the year A.D.
1000, until the Arab scholars of the 1500s, the more puzzling. This accessible,
apparently safe plant with stimulating and refreshing properties was destined to become
an item of great interest in Islam, whose believers were not permitted to drink alcohol.
It was equally well received in Christian Europe, where water was generally unsafe and
where the drink served at breakfast, luncheon, and dinner was beer. Once people from
each of these two cultures had had a good taste of coffee, history proves that the drink
made its way like a juggernaut, mowing down entrenched customs and opposing
interests in its path. Yet, after the time of Avicenna, coffee was apparently forgotten in
the Islamic world for more than five hundred years.
One way to gain an appreciation of the mystery of coffee’s late appearance is to note
that, even if the Rhazian reference is deemed genuine, coffee remained unknown to the
Arabs until after Arab traders had become familiar with Chinese tea. Arab knowledge
of tea as an important commodity is demonstrated by an Arabian traveler’s report in
A.D. 879 that the primary sources of tax revenue in Canton were levies on tea and salt.
Awareness of tea’s use as a popular tonic is evinced in the words of Suleiman the
Magnificent (1494–1566): “The people of China are accustomed to use as a beverage
an infusion of a plant, which they call sakh…. It is considered very wholesome. This
plant is sold in all the cities of the Empire.”15 Considering that tea was produced in a
land half a world away, accessible only by long, daunting sea journeys or even more
hazardous extended overland routes, the lack of Arab familiarity with coffee, which
grew wild just across narrow passage of the Red Sea, becomes even harder to
understand.
Then Jove’s daughter Helen bethought her of another matter. She drugged the wine with
an herb that banishes all care, sorrow, and ill humour. Whoever drinks wine thus
drugged cannot shed a single tear all the rest of the day, not even though his father and
mother both of them drop down dead, or he sees a brother or a son hewn in pieces
before his very eyes. This drug, of such sovereign power and virtue, had been given
Helen by Polydamna wife of Thon, woman of Egypt, where there grow all sorts of herbs,
some good to put into the mixing bowl and others poisonous. Moreover, every one in the
whole country is a skilled physician, for they are of the race of Pæeon. When Helen had
put this drug in the bowl,…[she] told the servants to serve the wine round.16
These wondrous effects sound more like those of heroin mixed with cocaine than of
coffee mixed with wine. The word “nepenthes,” meaning “no pain” or “no care” in
Greek, is used in the original text to modify the word “pharmakos,” meaning
“medicine” or “drug.”17 For at least the last several hundred years, “nepenthe” has been
a generic term in medical literature for a sedative or the plant that supplies it; as such, it
hardly fits the pharmacological profile of either caffeine or coffee. Nevertheless, the
pioneering Enlightenment scholars Diderot and d’Alembert repeated Pietro della Valle’s
idea in their Encyclopédie (much of which was drafted in daily visits to one of Paris’s
earliest coffee houses). The fact that Homer tells us that the use of nepenthe was learned
in Egypt, which can be construed to include parts of Ethiopia, together with the
undoubted capacity of coffee to drive away gloom and its reputation for making it
impossible to shed tears, may have helped to make this identification more appealing.
In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries it became fashionable for European
scholars to continue, as della Valle had begun, in theorizing about the knowledge the
ancients had had of modern drugs. Not everyone, of course, was convinced. Dr. Simon
André Tissot, a Swiss medical writer working in 1769, acknowledges the value of
coffee as stimulant to the wit, but warns that we should neither underestimate its
dangers nor exaggerate its value: for “we have to ask ourselves whether Homer,
Thucydides, Plato, Lucretius, Virgil, Ovid, and Horace, whose works will be a joy for
all time, ever drank coffee.”18 Many others, however, followed an imaginary trail of
coffee beans leading back to ancient Greece. Sir Henry Blount (1602– 82), a Puritan
teetotaler frequently dubbed the “father of the English coffeehouse,” traveled widely in
the Levant, where he drank coffee with the Sultan Murat IV. On his return to England,
he became one of the earliest boosters of the “Turkish renegade,” as coffee was
sometimes called. He brewed a controversy when he repeated a gratuitous claim that the
exotic beverage he had enjoyed in the capitals of the Near East was in fact the same as a
famous drink of the ancient Spartans:
They have another drink not good at meat, called Cauphe, made of a Berry as big as a
small Bean, dried in a Furnace and beat to Pouder, of a Soot-colour, in taste a little
bitterish, that they seeth and drink as hot as may be endured: It is good all hours of the
day, but especially morning and evening, when to that purpose, they entertain
themselves two or three hours in Cauphe-houses, which in all Turkey abound more than
Inns and Ale-houses with us; it is thought to be the old black broth used so much by the
Lacedaemonians [Spartans], and dryeth ill Humours in the stomach, and the Brain,
never causeth Drunkenness or any other Surfeit, and is a harmless entertainment of
good Fellowship; for thereupon Scaffolds half a yard high, and covered with Mats, they
sit Cross-leg’d after the Turkish manner, many times two or three hundred together,
talking, and likely with some poor musick passing up and down.19
he found the people using qahwa, though he knew nothing of its characteristics. After
he had returned to Aden, he fell ill, and remembering [qahwa], he drank it and
benefited by it. He found that among its properties was that it drove away fatigue and
lethargy, and brought to the body a certain sprightliness and vigor. In consequence… he
and other Sufis in Aden began to use the beverage made from it, as we have said. Then
the whole people—the learned and the common— followed [his example] in drinking it,
seeking help in study and other vocations and crafts, so that it continued to spread.
A generation after ‘Abd al-Ghaffar, Jaziri conducted his own investigation, writing to
a famous jurist in Zabid, a town in the Yemen, to inquire how coffee first came there. In
reply, his correspondent quoted the account of his uncle, a man over ninety, who had
told him:
“I was at the town of Aden, and there came to us some poor Sufi, who was making and
drinking coffee, and who made it as well for the learned jurist Muhammad Ba-Fadl al-
Halrami, the highest jurist at the port of Aden, and for… Muhammad al-Dhabhani.
These two drank it with a company of people, for whom their example was sufficient.”
Jaziri concludes that it is possible that ‘Abd al-Ghaffar was correct in stating that
Dhabhani introduced coffee to Aden, but that it is also possible, as his correspondent
claimed, that some other Sufi introduced it and Dhabhani was responsible only for its
“emergence and spread.” ‘Abd Al-Ghaffar and Jaziri are in accord that it was as a
stimulant, not a comestible, that coffee was used from the time of its earliest
documented appearance in the world. More than this we may never discover. For the
astonishing fact is that, although all the Arab historians are in accord that the story of
coffee drinking as we know it apparently begins somewhere in or around the Yemen in
a Sufi order in the middle of the fifteenth century, additional details of its origin had
already been mislaid or garbled within the lifetimes of people who could remember
when coffee had been unknown.
In any case, the spread of coffee from Sufi devotional use into secular consumption
was a natural one. Though the members of the Sufi orders were ecstatic devotees, most
were of the laity, and their nightlong sessions were attended by men from many trades
and occupations. Before beginning the dhikr, or ritual remembrance of the glory of God,
coffee was shared by Sufis in a ceremony described by Jaziri Avion: “They drank it
every Monday and Friday eve, putting it in a large vessel made of red clay. Their leader
ladled it out with a small dipper and gave it to them to drink, passing it to the right,
while they recited one of their usual formulas, ‘There is no God, but God, the Master,
the Clear Reality.’” 25 When morning came, they returned to their homes and their
work, bringing the memory of caffeine’s energizing effects with them and sharing the
knowledge of coffee drinking with their fellows. Thus, from the example of Sufi
conclaves, the coffeehouse was born. As coffeehouses, or kahwe khaneh, proliferated,
they served as forums for extending coffee use beyond the circle of Sufi devotions. By
1510 coffee had spread from the monastaries of the Yemen into general use in Islamic
capitals such as Cairo and Mecca, and the consumption of caffeine had permeated every
stratum of lay society.
Although destined for remarkable success in the Islamic world, coffee and coffee-
houses met fierce opposition there from the beginning and continued to do so. Even
though the leaders of some Sufi sects promoted the energizing effects of caffeine, many
orthodox Muslim jurists believed that authority could be found in the Koran that coffee,
because of these stimulating properties, should be banned along with other intoxicants,
such as wine and hashish, and that, in any case, the new coffeehouses constituted a
threat to social and political stability.26 Considering that coffee was consumed chiefly
for what we now know are caffeine’s effects on human physiology, especially the
marqaha, the euphoria or high that it produces, it is easy to understand the reasons such
scruples arose.27
Perhaps no single episode illustrates the players and issues involved in these
controversies better than the story of Kha’ir Beg, Mecca’s chief of police, who, in
accord with the indignation of the ultra-pious, instituted the first ban on coffee in the
first year of his appointment by Kansuh al-Ghawri, the sultan of Cairo, 1511. Kha’ir
Beg was a man in the timeless mold of the reactionary, prudish martinet, reminiscent of
Pentheus in Eurypides’ Bacchoe,28 someone who was not only too uptight to have fun
but was alarmed by evidence that other people were doing so. Like Pentheus, he was
the butt of satirical humor and mockery, and nowhere more frequently than in the
coffeehouses of the city.
Beg, as the enforcer of order, saw in the rough and ready coffeehouse, in which
people of many persuasions met and engaged in heated social, political, and religious
arguments, the seeds of vice and sedition, and, in the drink itself, a danger to health and
well-being. To end this threat to public welfare and the dignity of his office, Beg
convened an assembly of jurists from different schools of Islam. Over the heated
objections of the mufti of Aden, who undertook a spirited defense of coffee, the
unfavorable pronouncements of two well-known Persian physicians, called at Beg’s
behest, and the testimony of a number of coffee drinkers about its intoxicating and
dangerous effects ultimately decided the issue as Beg had intended.29 Beg sent a copy
of the court’s expeditious ruling to his superior, the sultan of Cairo, and summarily
issued an edict banning coffee’s sale. The coffeehouses in Mecca were ordered closed,
and any coffee discovered there or in storage bins was to be confiscated and burned.
Although the ban was vigorously enforced, many people sided with the mufti and
against the ruling of Beg’s court, while others perhaps cared more for coffee than for
sharia, the tenants of the holy law, for coffee drinking continued surreptitiously.
To the rescue of caffeine users came the sultan of Cairo, Beg’s royal master, who may
well have been in the middle of a cup of coffee himself, one prepared by his battaghis,
the coffee slaves of the seraglio, when the Meccan messenger delivered Beg’s
pronouncement. The sultan immediately ordered the edict softened. After all, coffee
was legal in Cairo, where it was a major item of speculation and was, according to some
reports, even used as tender in the marketplaces. Besides, the best physicians in the
Arab world and the leading religious authorities, many of whom lived in Cairo at the
time, approved of its use. So who was Kha’ir Beg to overturn the coffee service and
spoil the party? When in the next year Kha’ir Beg was replaced by a successor who was
not averse to coffee, its proponents were again able to enjoy the beverage in Mecca
without fear. There is no record of whether the sultan of Cairo repented of his decision
when, ten years later, in 1521, riotous brawling became a regular occurrence among
caffeine-besotted coffeehouse tipplers and between them and the people they annoyed
and kept awake with their late-night commotion.
In 1555, coffee and the coffeehouse were brought to Constantinople by Hakam and
Shams, Syrian businessmen from Aleppo and Damascus, respectively, who made a
fortune by being the first to cash in on what would become an unending Ottoman love
affair with both the beverage and the institution.30 In the middle of the sixteenth
century, coffeehouses sprang up in every major city in Islam, so that, as the French
nineteenth-century historian Mouradgea D’Ohsson reports in his seven-volume history
of the Ottoman Empire, by 1570, in the reign of Selim II, there were more than six
hundred of them in Constantinople, large and small, “the way we have taverns.” By
1573, the German physician Rauwolf, quoted above as the first to mention coffee in
Europe, reported that he found the entire population of Aleppo sitting in circles sipping
it. Coffee was in such general use that he believed those who told him that it had been
enjoyed there for hundreds of years.31
As a result of the efforts of Hakam and Shams and other entrepreneurs, Turks of all
stations frequented growing numbers of coffeehouses in every major city, many small
towns, and at inns on roads well trafficked by travelers. One contemporary observer in
Constantinople noted “[t]he coffeehouses being thronged night and day, the poorer
classes actually begging money in the streets for the sole object of purchasing coffee.”32
Coffee was sold in three types of establishments: stalls, shops, and houses. Coffee stalls
were tiny booths offering take-out service, usually located in the business district.
Typically, merchants would send runners to pick up their orders. Coffee shops, common
in Egypt, Syria, and Turkey, were neighborhood fixtures, combining take-out and a
small sitting area, frequently outdoors, for conversationalists. Coffeehouses were the
top-of- the-line establishments, located in exclusive neighborhoods of larger cities and
offering posh appointments, instrumentalists, singers, and dancers, often in gardenlike
surroundings with fountains and tree-shaded tables. As these coffeehouses increased in
popularity, they became more opulent. To these so-called schools of the wise flocked
young men pursuing careers in law, ambitious civil servants, officers of the seraglio,
scholars, and wealthy merchants and travelers from all parts of the known world. All
three—shop, stall, and house—were and remain common in the Arab world, as they are
in the West today.
Photograph of Café Eden, Smyrna, from an albumen photograph by Sebah and Joaillier
(active 1888-c. 1900). The sign in the foreground reads “Jardin de L’Eden.” This café
is typical of top-of-the-line establishments located in the better neighborhoods of the
larger cities throughout the Levant. (Photograph by Sebah and Joaillier, University of
Pennsylvania Museum, Philadelphia, negative #s4–142210)
But the debates over the propriety of coffee use did not end with Beg’s tenure or the
proliferation of the coffeehouse. Two interpretive principles continued to vie throughout
these debates. On the one side was the doctrine of original permissibility, according to
which everything created by Allah was presumed good and fit for human use unless it
was specifically prohibited by the Koran. On the other was the mandate to defend the
law by erecting a seyag, or “fence” around the Koran, that is, broadly construing
prohibitions in order to preclude even a small chance of transgression.
The opponents of coffee drinking continued to assert their disapproval of the new
habit and the disquieting social activity it seemed to engender. Cairo experienced a
violent commotion in 1523, described by Walsh in his book Coffee: Its History,
Classification, and Description (1894):
In 1523 the chief priest in Cairo, Abdallah Ibrahim, who denounced its use in a sermon
delivered in the mosque in Hassanaine, a violent commotion being produced among the
populous. The opposing factions came to blows over its use. The governor, Sheikh
Obelek [El-belet], a man wise in his generation and time, then assembled the mullahs,
doctors, and others of the opponents of coffee-drinking at his residence, and after
listening patiently to their tedious harangues against its use, treated them all to a cup of
coffee each, first setting the example by drinking one himself. Then dismissing them,
courteously withdrew from their presence without uttering a single word. By this
prudent conduct the public peace was soon restored, and coffee was ever afterward
allowed to be used in Cairo.33
A covenant was even introduced to the marriage contract in Cairo, stipulating that the
husband must provide his wife with an adequate supply of coffee; failing to do so could
be joined with other grounds as a basis for filing a suit of divorce.34 This provision
shows that, even though banned from the coffeehouses, women were permitted to enjoy
coffee at home.
Around 1570, by which time the use of coffee seemed well entrenched, some imams
and dervishes complained loudly against it again, claiming, as Alexander Dumas wrote
in his Dictionnaire de Cuisine,35 that the taste for the drink went so far in
Constantinople that the mosques stood empty, while people flocked in increasing
numbers to fill the coffeehouses. Once again the debate revived. In a curious reversal of
the doctrine of original permissibility, some coffee opponents claimed that simply
because coffee was not mentioned in the Koran, it must be regarded as forbidden. As a
result coffee was again banned. However, coffee drinking continued in secret as a
practice winked at by civil authorities, resulting in the proliferation of establishments
reminiscent of American speakeasies of the 1920s.
Murat III, sultan of Constantinople, murdered his entire family in order to clear his
way to the throne, but drew the line at allowing his subjects to debauch in the
coffeehouses, and with good reason. It seems that his bloody accession was being
loudly discussed there in unflattering terms, insidiously brewing sedition. In about
1580, declaring coffee “mekreet,” or “forbidden,” he ordered these dens of revolution
shuttered and tortured their former proprietors. The religious sanction for his ban rested
on the discovery, by one orthodox sect of dervishes, that, when roasted, coffee became a
kind of coal, and anything carbonized was forbidden by Mohammed for human
consumption.36 His prohibition of the coffeehouse drove the practice of coffee drinking
into the home, a result which, considering his purpose of dispelling congeries of public
critics, he may well have counted as a success.
During succeeding reigns, the habit again became a public one, and one that, after
Murat’s successor assured the faithful that roasted coffee was not coal and had no
relation to it, even provided a major source of tax revenue for Constantinople. Yet in the
early seventeenth century, under the nominal rule of Murat IV (1623–40), during a war
in which revolution was particularly to be feared, coffee and coffeehouses became the
subject of yet another ban in the city. In an arrangement reminiscent of the intrigues of
the Arabian Nights, Murat IV’s kingdom was governed in fact by his evil vizier,
Mahomet Kolpili, an illiterate reactionary who saw the coffeehouses as dens of
rebellion and vice. When the bastinado was unsuccessful in discouraging coffee
drinking, Kolpili escalated to shuttering the coffeehouses. In 1633, noting that hardened
coffee drinkers were continuing to sneak in by the posterns, he banned coffee
altogether, along with tobacco and opium, for good measure, and, on the pretext of
averting a fire hazard, razed the establishments where coffee had been served. As a final
remedy, as part of an edict making the use of coffee, wine, or tobacco capital offenses,
coffeehouse customers and proprietors were sewn up in bags and thrown in the
Bosphorus, an experience calculated to discourage even the most abject caffeine addict.
Less draconian solutions to the coffeehouse threat to social stability were
implemented in Persia, notably by the wife of Shah Abbas, who had observed with
concern the large crowds assembling daily in the coffeehouses of Ispahan to discuss
politics. She appointed mollahs, expounders of religious law, to attend the coffeehouses
and entertain the customers with witty monologues on history, law, and poetry. So
doing, they diverted the conversation from politics, and, as a result, disturbances were
rare, and the security of the state was maintained. Other Persian rulers, deciding not to
stanch the flow of seditious conversation, instead placed their spies in the coffee-houses
to collect warnings of threats to the security of the regime.
The coffeehouses brought with them certain unsettling innovations in Islamic society.
Even those who counted themselves among the friends of coffee drinking were not
entirely comfortable with the secular public gatherings, previously unheard of in
respectable society, that these places made inevitable and commonplace. The freedom
to assemble in a public place for refreshment, entertainment, and conversation, which
was otherwise rare in a society where everyone dined at home, created as much danger
as opportunity. Before the coffeehouses opened, taverns had been the only recourse for
people who wanted a night out, away from home and family, and these, in Islamic
lands, where tavern keepers, like prostitutes, homosexuals, and street entertainers, were
shunned by respectable people. Jaziri, when chronicling the early days of coffee in the
Yemen, complained, for example, that the decorum and solemnity of the Sufi dhikr was,
in the coffeehouse, displaced by the frivolity of joking and storytelling. Worse still was
malicious gossip, which, when directed against blameless women, was deemed
particularly odious.
From Jaziri we also learn that gaming, especially chess, backgammon, and draughts,
was, in addition to idle talk, a regular feature of coffeehouse life. Card playing, reported
by travelers, may have been a later introduction from Europe. However, contemporary
Islamic writers, a strait-laced group to a man, disapproved of such frivolous activities,
even when no money was being wagered. One of the mainstays of coffeehouse
entertainment spoken of by Moslem writers was the storyteller, an inexpensive addition
to the enjoyment of the patrons that was more acceptable than either gossip or gaming
to the exacting moral monitors of the day.
Musical entertainments, in contrast with literary ones, though also commonplace in
coffeehouses, were regarded with more disfavor. The “drums and fiddlers”37 of Mecca’s
coffeehouses were mentioned by Jaziri as one of their aspects offensive to Kha’ir Beg.
Evidently sharing the belief of St. Augustine that music was a sensual enjoyment that
threatened to divert attention from the contemplation of God, and as such was to be
regarded as a subversive force among the faithful, the Islamic moralists of the day
asserted that musical entertainments deepened the debauchery into which coffeehouse
patrons habitually sunk. Secular music was considered dangerous in itself, but worse for
the encouragement it gave to revelry. Especially damning was the early practice, taken
over from the taverns, of featuring women singers. Even when they were kept from
customers’ eyes behind a screen, their voices alone were thought to offer improper
sexual stimulation, which, it was often charged, led to sexual disportment with the
patrons. Later accounts make it clear that these temptresses were finally banished,
leaving the Islamic coffeehouses strictly to the men.
Photograph of Palestinian or Syrian peasants playing backgammon while drinking
coffee and sharing a hookah pipe at a recent version of the modest Arab coffee shops
that have been traditional for several hundred years, from an albumen photograph, c.
1885–1901, by Bonfils, active 1864–1916. (Photograph by Bonfils, University of
Pennsylvania Museum, Philadelphia, negative #s4–142209)
Even more corrupting than women, or so these Islamic thinkers believed, was the use
of hard drugs by coffeehouse denizens. Jaziri deplores the mixing of hashish, opium,
and possibly other narcotic preparations with what, in his judgment, was an otherwise
pure drink. He says, “Many have been led to ruin by this temptation. They can be
reckoned as beasts whom the demons have so tempted.”38 Another Islamic writer of the
time, Kâtib Celebi, states, “Drug addicts in particular finding [coffee] a life giving
thing, which increases their pleasure, were willing to die for a cup.”39
As to the intoxicating effects of coffee itself, which we now understand are a
consequence of its caffeine content, Islamic opinion was divided in bitter controversy
from at least as early as ‘Abd al-Ghaffar. Some moralists likened the marqaha to
inebriation with alcohol, hashish, or opium. Other writers, including an unnamed
predecessor of ‘Abd al-Ghaffar, found this identification preposterous, both in degree
and kind. This unresolvable dispute was of practical importance in a society in which
many prominent men were coffee users and in which indulgence in any intoxicant was
grounds for severe punishment. In the end, caffeine triumphed in the Islamic world, and
coffee was accepted as the earthly approximation of the “purest wine, that will neither
pain their heads nor take away their reason,” which the Koran teaches the blessed will
enjoy in the world to come.
From the standpoint of modern secular taste, it is difficult not to find sympathetic an
environment which presented the first informal, public, literary, and intellectual forum
in Islam. Many of the conventions that were established in those early coffeehouses
remain hallmarks of our coffeehouses today. Poets and other writers came to read their
works; the air was filled with the sounds of animated colloquies on the sciences and
arts; and, as in Pepys’ England and in so many other times and places, the coffeehouse
became, in the absence of newspapers, a place where people gathered to learn and argue
about the latest social and political events.
Because the coffeehouse is so important and coffee is so freely available today, we
may be disposed to regard the Arab and Turkish attempts at prohibition as quaint and
archaic. Such condescension would demonstrate an ignorance of similar efforts in later
periods of history and a failure to recognize those in our own. The “caffeine
temperance” movement has reasserted itself, with greater or lesser effectiveness, in
almost every generation. France, Italy, and England have recurringly witnessed men
who sought to enlist the power of law to enforce their own disapproval of caffeine. In
the
City Yearc
Mecca <1500
Cairo c. 1500
Constantinople 1555
Oxford 1650
London 1652
Amsterdam mid-1660s
Marseilles 1671
Hamburg 1679
Vienna 1683
Paris 1689
Boston 1689
Leipzig 1694
Philadelphia 1700
Berlin 1721
United States in the early twentieth century, reformers such as Harvey Washington
Wiley vigorously campaigned against the use of caffeine in soft drinks. Today such
groups as Caffeine Prevention Plus, who use the Internet to promote their cause, and all
sorts of meddlesome do-gooders would be happy to add caffeine to the list of highly
regulated or banned substances. Americans, who live with the prohibition of marijuana,
heroin, and certain pharmaceuticals in general use worldwide and who are witnessing
serious efforts within our government to further control or ban cigarettes, should
recognize elements of their own society when hearing the story of Kha’ir Beg.
Europeans, as compared with the other peoples of the world, have historically
demonstrated a strong inquisitiveness about the secrets of distant nations; they have
been, in short, natural tourists. It is therefore no surprise that it was from returning
travelers that knowledge of the habits of the Arabs and Turks was first brought to the
capitals of Italy, France, England, Portugal, Holland, and Germany.41
These European travelers throughout the Islamic domains provide many vivid
accounts of early coffeehouses.42 However, as Carsten Niebuhr (1733–1815), a German
biographer and traveler, comments in Travels through Arabia and Other Countries in
the East (1792), many of the establishments they visited were situated in khans—
combination inns, caravansaries, and warehouses—which served merchants and other
travelers, and we should keep in mind that they may not have been typical of the
coffeehouses catering to a residential population.
One of the earliest descriptions to reach Europe of the denizens of the coffee-houses
of Constantinople was this dour assessment by Gianfrancesco Morosini, a Venetian
traveler, in 1585:
All these people are quite base, of low costume and very little industry, such that, for the
most part, they spend their time sunk in idleness. Thus they continually sit about, and
for entertainment they are in the habit of drinking in public in shops and in the streets—
a black liquid, boiling [as hot] as they can stand it, which is extracted from a seed they
call Caveè… , and is said to have the property of keeping a man awake.
Evidently little changed over the ensuing century, for D’Ohsson confirmed the
picture of coffeehouse leisure, writing, “Young idlers spend whole hours in them,
smoking, playing draughts or chess and discussing affairs of the day.”
Alexander Russel, in The Natural History of Aleppo (1756), describes the coffee-
house use of hashish and opium in waterpipes, and other writers, such as Edward Lane,
an English Arabic scholar, in his Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern
Egyptians (1860), also testifies to these sordid indulgences. Niebuhr, blaming the
stupefied languor of the coffee imbibers on intense tobacco use, comments:
In Egypt, Syria, and Arabia, the favorite of amusement of persons in any degree above
the very lowest classes, is, to spend the evening in a public coffee-house, where they
hear musicians, singers, and tale-tellers, who frequent those houses in order to earn a
trifle by the exercise of their respective arts. In those places of public amusement, the
Orientals maintain a profound silence, and often sit whole evenings without uttering a
word. They prefer conversing with their pipe; and its narcotic fumes seem very fit to
allay the ferment of their boiling blood. Without recurring to a physical reason, it would
be hard to account for the general relish which these people have for tobacco; by
smoking, they divert the spleen and languor which hang about them, and bring
themselves in a slight degree, into the same state of spirits which the opium eaters
obtain from that drug. Tobacco serves them instead of strong liquors, which they are
forbidden to use.48
The Reverend R.Walsh was a senior member of the British diplomatic service
stationed in Constantinople in the early nineteenth century. In his book Narrative of a
Journey from Constantinople to England (1828), he describes a coffeehouse he visited
while staying the night at an inn, typical of the sort of establishment that had been so
often visited by earlier European travelers, on his way home:
I passed a very feverish sleepless night, which I attributed to either of two causes; one,
the too free use of animal food and vinous liquors, after violent exercise…. Another, and
perhaps the real cause, was that we slept on the platform of a miserable little coffee-
house, attached to the kahn, which was full of people smoking all night. The Turks of
this class are offensively rude and familiar; they stretch themselves out and lay across
us, without scruple or apology; and within a few inches of my face, was the brazier of
charcoal, with which they lighted their pipes and heated their coffee. After a night
passed in a suffocating hole, lying on the bare boards, inhaling tobacco smoke and
charcoal vapors, and annoyed every minute by the elbows and knees of rude Turks; it
was not to be wondered at, that I rose sick and weak, and felt as if I was altogether
unable to proceed on my journey.”49
However, Walsh could not afford the luxury of a layover; and so, taking refreshment
from an exhilarating breeze, he allowed himself to be helped onto his horse and made
his way down the road.
Life among the Bedouins has always maintained a distinctive savor. W.B. Seabrook,
in his book Adventures in Arabia (1927), gives a vivid account of coffee’s place in a
timeless nomadic culture where lunch consisted of dried dates, bread, and fermented
camel’s milk and the one cooked meal of each day was a whole carcass of a sheep or
goat, served over rice and gravy:
Coffee-making is the exclusive province of the men. Its paraphernalia for a sheik’s
household fills two great camel hampers. We had five pelican-beaked brass pots, of
graduated sizes, up to the great grand-father of all the coffee pots, which held at least
ten gallons; a heavy iron ladle, with a long handle inlaid with brass and silver, for
roasting the beans; wooden mortar and pestle, elaborately carved, for pounding them;
and a brass inlaid box containing the tiny cups without handles.50
Seabrook enjoyed the honor of sharing coffee with the Pasha Mitkhal, leader of the
tribe, whom he describes as “a born aristocrat,” about forty, with a slender build and a
small pointed black beard and mustache, who “wore no gorgeous robes nor special
insignia of rank.” Except for a headcloth of finer texture and a muslin undergarment
which he wore beneath his black camel hair cloak and his black headcoil of twisted
horsehair, he dressed exactly as his warriors. Once Mitkhal was seated in his tent, Man-
sour, his black attendant, “approached with a long-spouted brass coffee pot in his left
hand, and two tiny cups without handles in the palm of his right.”51
On another occasion, Seabrook, observing a man accidentally overturn the large
communal coffeepot, was surprised to hear the company exclaim, “Khair Inshallah!,”
which means, “A good omen!” Mitkhal later explained that this old custom may have
originated with a desire to help the klutz save face, although Seabrook speculated that it
traces to pre-Moslem pagan libations in the sand.52
A less favorable prognostication, however, attends the deliberate spilling of coffee.
Among the Druse, Bedouin warriors of the Djebel, Seabrook took coffee with Ali bey,
the ranking patriarch, in the company of his four sons and ten solemn Druse elders.
Sitting cross-legged before the charcoal fire, Ali bey honored his guests by making the
coffee himself and serving it in two small cups which were passed around and around
the circle, telling a tale how an overturned coffee cup could amount to a sentence of
death:
If a Druse ever shows cowardice in battle, he is not reproached, but the next time the
warriors sit in a circle and coffee is served, the host stands before him, pours exactly as
for the others, but in handing him the cup, deliberately spills the coffee on the coward’s
robe. This is equivalent to a death sentence. In the next battle the man is forced not only
to fight bravely but to offer himself to the bullets or swords of the enemy. No matter with
how much courage he fights, he must not come out alive. If he fails, his whole family is
disgraced.53
We do not know all the details of the earliest Arab preparations. The best information
is that, when Arab traders brought coffee back to their homeland from Africa for
planting, they made two dissimilar caffeinated drinks from the coffee berry. The first
was “kisher” a tealike beverage steeped from the fruit’s dried husks, which, according
to every authority, tastes nothing like our coffee, but rather something like an aro matic
or spiced tea. In the Yemen, kisher, brewed from the husks that had been roasted
together with some of the silver skin, was regarded as a delicate drink and was the
choice of the connoisseur. The second was “bounya” its name deriving from “bunn”
the Ethiopian and early Arabic word for coffee beans, a thick brew of ground or crushed
beans. It was probably drunk unfiltered, and, in a practice persisting for several hundred
years, downed with its sediment, a drink that could fairly be called “sludge.” Early
bounya was made from raw, boiled beans. A Levantine refinement introduced the
technique of roasting the beans on stone trays, before boiling them in water, then
straining and reboiling them with fresh water, in a process repeated several times, and
the thick residue stored in large clay jars for later service in tiny cups. In another
development, the beans were powdered with a mortar and pestle after roasting and then
mixed with boiling water. In a practice that persisted for several hundred years, the
resulting drink was swallowed complete with the grounds. Later in the sixteenth century
Islamic coffee drinkers invented the ibrik, a small coffee boiler that made brewing
easier and quicker. Cinnamon, cloves, sugar might be added while still boiling, and the
“essence of amber” could be added after the coffee was doled out in small china cups.57
A cover was affixed to the boiler a few years later, creating the prototype of the modern
coffeepot.
Infusion was the latest arrival, its development dating only from the eighteenth
century. Ground coffee was placed in a cloth bag, which was itself deposited in the pot,
and upon which hot water was poured, steeping the grounds as we steep tea. However,
boiling continued as the favorite way of preparing the drink for many years.
A priest…is said to have conceived the design of wandering from the East towards
Western Africa in order to extend the religion of the prophet, and when he came into the
regions where Kaffa lies, Allah is reported to have appeared to him and to have said,
“It is far enough; go no further.” Since that time, according to tradition, the country
has been called Kaffa.63
There, of course, the priest promptly discovered a coffee tree laden with red berries,
which berries he immediately boiled, naming the brew after the place to which Allah
had led him.
2
tea
Asian Origins
From ancient times, the Chinese have elaborated a pretense of tradition and descent
that can best be described as a dream of antiquity in a time that never was. Affecting to
trace her customs, philosophies, and pedigrees to a more venerable age than those of
other nations, the Chinese culture has, in the mirror of mythological history, assumed
the cloak of dignity that accords with precedence. Because tea has long been uniquely
prominent in Chinese life, an effort to locate its origin in the remote past became
inevitable.
Such an effort was realized in the legend of Shen Nung, mythical first emperor of
China, a Promethean figure, honored as the inventor of the plow and of husbandry,
expositor of the curative properties of plants, and, most important for our story, the
discoverer of tea. According to the legend, Shen Nung sat down in the shade of a shrub
to rest in the heat of the day. Following a logic of his own that would have appeared
mysterious to an onlooker, he decided to cool off by building a fire and boiling some
water to drink, a practice he had begun after noticing that those who drank boiled water
fell sick less often than those who imbibed directly from the well. He fed his fire with
branches from a tea bush, and a providential breeze knocked a few of the tiny leaves
into his pot. When Shen Nung drank the resulting infusion, he became the first to enjoy
the stimulant effect and delicate refreshment of tea.1
Shen Nung, true to his cognomen, “Divine Healer,” details the medicinal uses of
ch’a, or tea, in the Pen ts’ao, a book-length compilation of his medical records, dated,
with daunting precision by much later scholars, at 2737 B.C. The entries in this book
include unmistakable references to the diuretic, antibacterial, bronchodilating,
stimulating, and mood-enhancing effects we now attribute to caffeine:
Good for tumours or abscesses that come about the head, or for ailments of the bladder.
It [ch’a] dissipates heat caused by the phlegms, or inflammation of the chest. It
quenches thirst. It lessens the desire for sleep. It gladdens and cheers the heart.2
In fact, the earliest edition of the Pen ts’ao dates from the Neo-Han dynasty (A.D. 25
to 221), and even this book does not yet mention tea. The tea reference was interpolated
after the seventh century, at which time the word “ch’a” first came into widespread use.
Another traditional account purporting to tell about the early use of tea by an ancient
emperor says that, as early as the twelfth century B.C., tribal leaders in and around
Szechuan included tea in their offerings to Emperor Wen, duke of Chou and founder of
the Chou dynasty (1122–256 B.C.). Wen was a legendary folk hero and purported
author of the Erh Ya, the first Chinese dictionary. However, because the earliest extant
source for this tea tribute is the Treatise on the Kingdom of Huayang, by Chang Ju, a
history of the era written in A.D. 347,3 the story is not very helpful in establishing that
tea was used in China before the first millennium B.C.
To Lao Tzu (600–517 B.C.), the founder of Taoism, is ascribed, by a Chinese text of
the first century B.C., the notion that tea is an indispensable constituent of the elixir of
life. The Taoist alchemists, his followers, who sought the secret of immortality,
certainly believed this, dubbing tea “the froth of the liquid jade.” (Unlike their Western
counterparts, who searched for both the secret of eternal life and the power to turn base
metal into gold, the Chinese alchemists confined their quest to improving health and
extending life.) The custom of offering tea to guests, still honored in China, supposedly
began in an encounter that occurred toward the end of Lao Tzu’s life. An embittered
and disillusioned man, the spiritual leader, having seen his teachings dishonored in his
own land and foreseeing a national decline, drove westward on a buffalo-cart, intending
to leave China for the wild wastes of Ta Chin in central Asia, an area that later became
part of the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire. The customs inspector at the Han
Pass border gate turned out to be Yin Hsi, an elderly sage who had waited his entire life
in the previously unsatisfied expectation of encountering an avatar. Recognizing the
holy fugitive and rising to the occasion, Yin Hsi stopped Lao Tzu, served him tea, and,
while they drank, persuaded him to commit his teachings to the book that became the
revered Tao Te Ching, or The Book of Tao.
Probably what was genuinely the earliest reference in Chinese literature adducing the
capacity of tea, through what we now know is the agency of caffeine, to improve mental
operations is found in the Shin Lun, by Hua Tuo (d. 220 B.C.). In this book, the famous
physician and surgeon, credited with discovering anesthesia, taught that drinking tea
improved alertness and concentration, a clear reference to what we today understand as
caffeine’s most prominent psychoactive effects: “To drink k’u t’u [bitter t’u] constantly
makes one think better.”4
Awareness of caffeine’s efficacy as a mood elevator was also evidenced in Liu Kun,
governor of Yan Chou and a leading general of the Qin dynasty (221–206 B.C.), who
wrote to his nephew, asking to be sent some “real tea” to alleviate his depression. In 59
B.C., in Szechuan, Wang Bao wrote the first book known to provide instructions for
buying and preparing tea.5 The volume was a milestone in tea history, establish ing that,
by its publication date, tea had become an important part of diet, while remaining in use
as a drug.
One of the most entertaining stories about tea to emerge from Oriental religious
folklore is a T’ang dynasty (618–906 A.D.) Chinese or Japanese story about the
introduction of tea to China. This story teaches that tea’s creation was a miracle worked
by a particularly holy man, born of his self-disgust at his inability to forestall sleep
during prayer. The legend tells of the monk Bodhidharma, famous for founding the
school of Buddhism based on meditation, called “Ch’an,” which later became Zen
Buddhism, and for bringing this religion from India to China around A.D. 525.
Supposedly, the emperor of China had furnished the monk with his own cave near the
capital, Nanging, where he would be at leisure to practice the precursor of Zen
meditation. There the Bodhidharma sat unmoving, year after year. From the example of
his heroic endurance, it is easy to understand how his school of Buddhism evolved into
za-zen, or “sitting meditation,” for certainly sitzfleisch was among his outstanding
capacities.6 The tale is that, after meditating seated before a wall for nine years, he
finally fell asleep. When he awoke and discovered his lapse, he disgustedly cut off his
eyelids. They fell to the ground and took root, growing into tea bushes containing a
stimulant that was to sustain meditations forever after.
Tea has a myriad of shapes. If I may speak vulgarly and rashly, tea may shrink and
crinkle like a Mongol’s boots, or it may look like the dewlap of a wild ox, some sharp,
some curling as the eaves of a house. It can look like a mushroom in whirling flight just
as clouds do when they float out from behind a mountain peak. Its leaves can swell and
leap as if they were being lightly tossed on wind-disturbed water. Others will look like
clay, soft and malleable, prepared for the hand of the potter and will be as clear and
pure as if filtered through wood. Still others will twist and turn like the rivulets carved
out by a violent rain in newly tilled fields.
Those are the very finest of teas.18
On the question of what water to use, I would suggest that tea made from mountain
streams is best, river water is all right, but well-water tea is quite inferior…. Water from
the slow-flowing streams, the stone-lined pools or milk-pure springs is the best of
mountain water. Never take tea made from water that falls in cascades, gushes from
springs, rushes in a torrent, or that eddies and surges as if nature were rinsing its
mouth. Over usage of all such water to make tea will lead to illnesses of the throat…. If
the evil genius of a stream makes the water bubble like a fresh spring, pour it out.19
Not only does he itemize types of tea and types of water, he even classifies stages of
what we might regard as the undifferentiable chaos of boiling. The initial stage is when
the water is just beginning to boil:
When the water is boiling, it must look like fishes eyes and give off but the hint of a
sound. When at the edges it clatters like a bubbling spring and looks like pearls
innumerable strung together, it has reached the second stage. When it leaps like
breakers majestic and resounds like a swelling wave, it is at its peak. Any more and the
water will be boiled out and should not be used.
The subsequent stage of boiling is described in even more elaborate and fanciful
terms:
They should suggest eddying pools, twisting islets or floating duckweed at the time of
the world’s creation. They should be like scudding clouds in a clear blue sky and should
occasionally overlap like scales on fish. They should be like copper cash, green with
age, churned by the rapids of a river, or dispose themselves as chrysanthemum petals
would, promiscuously cast on a goblet’s stand.20
As a result of the success of this book, Lu Yü was lionized by the emperor Te Tsung
and became enormously popular throughout China. Finally he withdrew into an
hermetic life, completing the circular course begun in his monastic childhood, and died
in A.D. 804. His story did not quite end there, however. Lu Yü was supposed on his
death to have been transfigured into Chazu, the genie of tea, and his effigy is still
honored by tea dealers throughout the Orient.
The Cake-tea which was boiled, the Powdered-tea which was whipped, the Leaf-tea
which was steeped, mark the distinct emotional impulses of the T’ang, the Sung, and the
Ming dynasties of China. If we are inclined to borrow the much abused terminology of
art-classification, we might designate them respectively, the Classic, the Romantic, and
the Naturalistic schools of Tea.26
Outside China, the peoples of the Orient had their own special ways of making use of
the caffeine in the tea plant. In ancient Siam, steamed tea leaves were rolled into balls
and consumed with salted pig fat, oil, garlic, and dried fish. The Burmese prepared
letpet, or “pickled tea salad,” by boiling wild tea leaves, stuffing them into a hollow
bamboo shoot and burying them for several months, after which they were excavated to
serve as a delicacy at an important feast. Tibetans still make tea using blocks of leaves
that they crumble into boiling water. Like the early Turkish preparations of coffee, this
tea is heavily reboiled. Like the Galla warriors of the Ethiopian massif, who mix ground
coffee beans with lard to sustain them in the harsh conditions of high altitudes, the
Tibetans, who also struggle with life in a difficult environment, mix their tea with
rancid yak butter, barley meal, and salt to make a nourishing breakfast treat or snack.27
promote digestion, dissolve fats, neutralize poisons in the digestive system, cure
dysentery, fight lung disease, lower fevers, and treat epilepsy. Tea was also thought to
be an effective astringent for cleaning sores and recommended for washing the eyes and
mouth.28
Photograph of Tibetan men carrying brick tea from China, where they had obtained it
by barter. They marked about six miles a day bearing three-hundred-pound loads of the
commodity, regarded as a necessity in their homeland. (Photograph by E.H.Wilson,
Photographic Archives of the Arnold Arboretum, copyrighted by the President and
Fellows of Harvard College, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts)
We can only wonder if the recent discoveries that caffeine can increase the rate of
lipolysis, or fat burning, has protective effects against the pulmonary complications of
smoking and congestive lung disease, kills bacteria, and may be useful for atopic
dermatitis, are significantly or only coincidentally foreshadowed in a drug manual that
is at least five hundred years old.
The Tao, evocatively translated as “the Way,” is an early Chinese word for the
mystical totality of Being, or Nature, of which all things were understood to be part. It
comprised two opposing principles, the yin and yang, or the feminine and masculine
aspects, the interplay between which was held to generate or constitute the variety of
the world’s particulars. The practice of Taoism was intended to enable its adherents to
bring their minds and bodies into harmony with the all-encompassing and everywhere
present Tao. This attainment was to be achieved by appeals to the gods or ancestral
spirits, the proper alignment of houses and burial plots, and, most important for our
story, the consumption of a balanced diet, that is, a regimen informed by a knowledge
of the yin and yang properties of different foods. Thus, like the humoral theory of
Galen, the Taoist medical theory relied on restoring or pre serving the proper interplay
of forces within the human organism. In senses analogous to the terminological practice
of European humoral theory, foods or medicines were considered “cold” or “hot,”
depending on whether they contained more of the female principle or the male. What
we know to be caffeine’s pharmacological properties made tea central to Taoist
treatments.
One traditional Taoist scheme applied in Lu Yü’s time identifies six vapors or
atmospheric influences descending from heaven, an imbalance among which will result
in various infirmities. As in the humoral theory, this “atmospheric theory” associates a
specific health problem with an excess of each of the vapors. In his notes to his
translation of The Classic of Tea, Francis Carpenter lists these six health problems:
Some Authors say, that the Cacao is in such Use in Mexico, that it is the chief Drink of
the Inhabitants of the Country, and that they give it as Alms, or Charity to the poor….
The Nuts, among the Indians and Spaniards, for current Money, even in those Countries
where Gold and Silver are naturally produced; there is in them Food and Raiment,
Riches and Delight all at once!
—Pomet, Lemery, and Tournefort, A Compleat History of DRUGGS, Book VII Of
FRUITS, “Of the Cacao, or Chocolate-Nut,” 1712
The use of the cacao bean is often erroneously thought to have originated with the
Maya of Mesoamerica, much as coffee is erroneously thought to have originated with
the Arabs and tea with the Chinese. But recent archeological discoveries reveal that the
Olmecs (1500 to 400 B.C.), members of the earliest American high civilization, who
lived in the fertile coastal Mexican lowlands centuries before the Maya arrived,
harvested wild cacao pods that they made into a chocolate drink. They were almost
certainly the first to cultivate the tree.
Little is known about the early Olmecs; even the name “Olmec” is applied to them
only as a back-formation, as it was what their descendants called themselves, while
their true name remains hidden in undeciphered hieroglyphs. The early Maya (1000
B.C. to A.D. 250) became the second people to cultivate cacao, which they began in the
Yucatan peninsula. Their cacao plantations, which expanded throughout their
dominions, made the Maya very wealthy. After the passing of the Mayan age, in the
ninth century A.D., chocolate was drunk by the Toltecs, who flourished from the tenth
to the twelfth centuries, and by the Aztecs, whose ascent began in the twelfth century. It
was from Aztec hands that the Spanish conquistadors were first served chocolate at the
outset of the sixteenth century.
Hemispherical bowl of light brown pottery, made during the Classic Maya period (A.D.
250–900) in Mexico. Originally there were three sunken oval panels with carved bas-
reliefs, but one has been destroyed. These were separated by incised columns of glyphs.
Each oval panel had a shorter column of glyphs. Of the two surviving reliefs, one shows
a figure, probably the god of cacao, seated on a low dais. He points to a pottery jar. The
striped oval objects in front of him represent cacao pods, and his curious headdress
represents the branches of a cacao tree before harvesting. This is the oldest surviving
vessel containing traces of a caffeinated beverage. Compare its date with that of the
clay wine jar in the University of Pennsylvania Museum that was found in Iran, with
wine residues from about 5500 B.C. Although wine making is more complex than coffee,
tea, or chocolate making, Neolithic men made wine, whereas the first direct evidence of
caffeine use came at least six thousand years later. (Dumbarton Oaks Research Library
and Collections, Washington, D.C.)
Stories of the savagery of the early Mesoamericans abound. The Maya who settled in
Chichen Itzá, a Yucatán city that became the center of a mixed Maya and Mexican
culture, before sacrificing a prisoner to their goddess of sustenance, hospitably served
him a cup of thick, cold chocolate, hoping to bring about a literal change of heart. For,
once the cup was empty, they believed that the heart, transformed into a cacao pod,
would be ripe for cutting from his chest and burning as an offering. The Spanish
explorers were impressed with the ceremony attending the growing and harvesting of
cacao among the Aztecs, in which many of these primitive components still survived.
According to their accounts, this ceremony included human sacrifice, masked dancing,
and sexual abstinence relieved by erotic games on the day of the harvest.
The chief deity of the Aztec state religion was the ancient tribal god, Huitzilopochtli,
now styled as a sun god and god of victory in war. He had an unquenchable appetite for
human hearts. Like Frazier’s goddesses of fertility, who demanded the sacrifice of the
king each year to secure the rebirth of spring, Huitzilopochtli required daily human
sacrifices to ensure the rising of the sun each morning. His requirement in this regard,
not an inchoate obsession with death or cruelty, was the reason behind the thousands of
such sacrifices that took place each year.
The Aztec religion offered the soldiers and aristocrats other powerful and often
terrifying gods, prominent among whom was Tezcatlipoca, the “Smoking Mirror.”2 His
chief rival was Quetzalcoatl, the “Feathered Serpent,” patron of the priesthood and also
worshiped by the common people. The everyday lives of these ordinary Aztecs,
including their crops and crafts, were protected by this benign demigod, born to a virgin
and a god. He was a kindly, bearded, fair-skinned deity who hailed from the golden land
beyond the sunset, and whom they took to be the purveyor of practical knowledge and
the ideal of self-sacrifice. Demonstrating striking parallels with Shen Nung,
Quetzalcoatl ruled as the Aztec priest-king and taught his people the use of the calendar,
how to plant maize, and the art of working gold and silver, and also brought caffeine to
the world in the form of the seeds of the cacao tree, which he taught the people to grow
and prepare. One account of Aztec beliefs states that Quetzalcoatl, growing old, or
having been tricked by another deity into drinking a poison potion that robbed him of
divine strength, worried that his unsightly decrepitude would frighten his subjects. He
burned his palace and buried his treasures of gold, jade, blood-stones, and rare shells.
He then sailed on a raft of snakes to his homeland, where he rules in perpetuity. He
promised to return in the year “One Reed,” which recurred every fifty-two years on the
calendar he had taught the Aztec people to use.3
Just as the Muslims had found in coffee a substitute for wine, the Aztecs especially
prized chocolate because it gave them a substitute for their traditional native drink,
octli, the fermented juice of the agave. Although, unlike the Muslims, the Aztecs were
not absolutely forbidden to use alcoholic beverages, drunkenness among them was
strongly disapproved. The consumption of octli was restricted to those of sufficiently
mature age, which sometimes meant those old enough to have grandchildren. Public
intoxication was not a misdemeanor, as it is in Western societies today, but a capital
offense, the most common punishment for which was execution. Not surprisingly, the
Aztecs had a large cautionary temperance literature, including many horrific tales about
the evils of inebriation.4
Because chocolate could serve as a safe alternative to octli and offered its own
unique stimulating effects, it was highly esteemed by the Aztec aristocracy. They kept
the drink largely to themselves, forbidding its use by commoners, including priests.
However, because of caffeine’s value in the rigors of a military adventure, the Aztec
nobility granted an exception for soldiers on campaign and the pochta, the hereditary
class of merchant-adventurers who fought their way across Mesoamerica to bring exotic
trade goods, needed to exalt the king and court, from outlying regions to the capital.
These seeds which are called almonds or cacao are ground and made into powder, and
other small seeds are ground, and this powder is put into certain basins… and they put
water on it and mix it with a spoon. And after having mixed it very well, they change it
from one basin to another, so that a foam is raised which they put in a vessel made for
the purpose. And when they wish to drink it, they mix it with certain small spoons of
gold or silver or wood, and drink it, and drinking it one must open one’s mouth,
because being foam one must give it room to subside, and go down bit by bit. This drink
is the healthiest thing, and the greatest sustenance of anything you could drink in the
world, because he who drinks a cup of this liquid, no matter how far he walks, can go a
whole day without eating anything else.15
Thomas Gage, in New Survey of the West Indies (1648), an important source of
information about the Mayas in their post-Columbian twilight, describes the typical
Indian methods of preparing and consuming the drink as he encountered them a century
later:
The manner of drinking it is diverse.... But the most ordinary way is to warme the water
very hot, and then to poure out half the cup full that you mean to drink; and to put into
it a tablet [hardened spoonful of chocolate paste] or two, or as much as will thicken
reasonably the water, and then grinde it well with the Molinet, and when it is well
ground and risen to a scumme, to fill the cup with hot water, and so drink it by sups
(having sweetened it with sugar) and to eat it with a little conserve or maple bred,
steeped into the chocolatte.16
Gage assumes that the use of the moliné, or stirring rod with which the liquid was
beaten to a frothy consistency, and the use of sugar were native practices. However, in
light of information from other sources, we must assume that both practices had, by the
middle of the seventeenth century, been widely adopted in America in imitation of early
Spanish innovators. Compounding his error about the moliné, Gage adds to the
etymological confusion over the origin of the word “chocolate” by providing his own
factitious but widely quoted onomatopoetic account that word was born when the
“choco choco choco” sound of the whipping moliné was combined with the Nahuatl
word for water.
Despite the new popularity of hot chocolate among the Maya, the old Maya custom
of consuming chocolate thick and cold seems to have survived until Gage’s time, at
least at religious or civic festivals. As he observed:
There is another way yet to drink chocolatte, which is cold, which the Indians at feasts
to refresh themselves, and it is made after this manner: The chocolatte (which is made
with none, or very few, ingredients) being dissolved in cold water with the Molinet, they
take off the scumme or crassy part, which riseth in great quantity, especially when the
cacao is older and putrefied. The scumme they lay aside in a little dish by itself, and
then put sugar into that part from whence was taken the scumme, and then powre it
from on high into the scumme, and so drink it cold.17
PART 2
The main benefit of this cacao is a beverage which they make called Chocolate, which
is a crazy thing valued in that country. It disgusts those who are not used to it… [but] is
a valued drink which the Indians offer to the lords who come or pass through their land.
And the Spanish men—and even more the Spanish women—are addicted to the black
chocolate.
—José de Acosta, S J., commenting on chocolate use in Mexico, Natural and Moral
History, 1590
In 1502, on his fourth voyage across the Atlantic, Columbus overshot Jamaica and
anchored at Guanaja, one of what are today called the Bay Islands, thirty miles off the
Honduran coast. While stopping among the Maya villagers, he became the first
European on record to have encountered cacao beans. On August 15, Columbus was
among the members of a scouting party dispatched from the Spanish ships that
encountered two 150-foot canoes propelled by slaves tied to their stations by their
necks. One of these great boats, which resembled Venetian gondolas, was captured
without incident. It turned out to be filled with trading goods, including cotton clothing,
stone axes, and copper bells from the Yucatán Peninsula and carried women and
children under a shelter of palm leaves. A description of the meeting was recorded in a
1503 Spanish account, written in Jamaica by Columbus’ son, Ferdinand, and finally
published, in a corrupt Italian edition, seventy years later, in Venice:
For their provisions they had such roots and grains as are eaten in Hispaniola…, and
many of those almonds which in New Spain [Mexico] are used for money. They seemed
to hold these almonds at a great price; for when they were brought on board ship
together with their goods, I observed that when any of these almonds fell, they all
stooped to pick it up, as if an eye had fallen.1
What he called “almonds” were actually cacao beans. Columbus’ party was
impressed by the high value placed on the beans by the natives; but because they had no
translator, they failed to discover cacao’s use in making chocolate. Nevertheless,
Columbus brought back some of the pods for King Ferdinand of Spain, and these were
the first caffeinated botanicals known to have reached Europe.
As we have seen, although Cortés delighted to find in cacao an agent that could
stimulate and fortify his soldiers and recommended cultivation of the plant to the young
Charles V of Spain, the stories attributing to Cortés the actual delivery of beans to Spain
or the preparation of chocolate in Spain have no historical basis. The inventory of
Cortés’ American booty, supplied to the king to document the payment of the crown’s
share, never mentions cacao. Nor was cacao among the novelties exhibited to the king
in 1528 by the returning Cortés, including Europe’s first bouncing rubber ball, a
menagerie complete with jaguars and armadillos, and miscellaneous noblemen and
human oddities from the New World.
No one knows, or is likely ever to know, which of the myriad commercial, military,
or religious Spanish enterprises first brought the beverage to the court. However,
chocolate’s earliest documented appearance in Spain came in 1544, when a delegation
of Dominican friars transported a group of Maya dignitaries to meet Prince Philip (later
Philip II), son of Charles V. The visiting Americans carried rich gifts for Philip, among
them vessels filled with chocolate. In 1585, the first recorded commercial shipment of
cacao beans reached Seville.
Chocolate, which relies for its analeptic effect on a combination of small amounts of
caffeine and larger amounts of the much weaker methylxanthine theobromine, is not as
electrifying as coffee in the way these drinks are commonly prepared today. However,
the early European chocolateers, like their Aztec and Maya predecessors, cooked their
chocolate strong and thick. This chocolate was undoubtedly a powerful stimulant, as
well as a nutritious and filling drink; we know that its flavor was strong enough to hide
a variety of poisons and that it became the medium of choice through out Europe for
dispatching inconvenient persons until at least the time of the French Revolution. The
crumbly coarse paste from which it was prepared contained carbohydrates and a large
proportion of easily digested fats, protein, and minerals, making it an excellent
concentrated high-energy food. This was the special reason that chocolate was so
readily taken up by the Catholics of the time and became popular as a clerical resort
during fasting. It was only later that chocolate became fashionable among the
aristocracy, for whom it served, as many paintings of the period show, as a drink to
accompany the start of a leisurely morning.
During most of the sixteenth century, chocolate and the stimulating effects of its
caffeine remained a cherished Spanish secret. The Spanish monks enjoyed a de facto
monopoly in cacao, and they busied themselves perfecting methods of roasting the
beans, brought from Mexico and plantations established in the West Indies and on the
African coast. They would grind and shape the hot cacao paste into rods or wafers,
leaving them to dry at room temperature, and sell them to aristocratic patrons.
Wherever the story of caffeine takes us, we usually find those who have taken religious
vows nearby. The Jesuits widely cultivated maté in Paraguay; and the Spanish monks,
who took to drinking hot chocolate regularly, became some of their own best customers
and were among its most ardent promoters. Also to the Spanish clergy—in this
instance, nuns serving in Mexican cloisters—seems to belong the honor of having been
the first Europeans to make hard chocolate, a skill they probably learned from native
American examples. These nuns are said to have made a great deal of money selling it
in confections for the European aristocracy. Most Spaniards who could afford to indulge
were caught up in the fad for the new drink, at a time when few other European
nationals had even had an opportunity to try it or any other caffeinated product. During
this period, Dutch and English raiders who captured Spanish galleons would jettison
cacao beans shipped from the growing numbers of Spanish plantations in South
America, for they were unaware of the crop’s value as a luxury trade item.
But caffeine secrets are hard to keep, and it was inevitable that the Spanish secret of
chocolate, like the Chinese secret of tea and the Islamic secret of coffee, would soon be
revealed. For one thing, by the early seventeenth century, Spain had become the center
of European fashion and society, and travelers from all over the Continent assembled in
Madrid to learn the latest trends. For another, the Spanish monks taught the habit of
drinking hot chocolate to their visiting brothers from abroad, who took it home with
them. There, among the brothers and laity, it was touted as good tasting and productive
of many health benefits and was warmly received.
After Marco Polo returned to tell tales of his travels in Cathay (1275–94), Venice,
increasingly a center of trade and a crossroads for traffic from the East, grew eager to
learn more of strange peoples and their strange goods. However, vividly detailed and
inclusive as it was, Marco Polo’s book does not mention tea, save in connection with
the imperial tax that was levied on its use, reporting that, in 1285, a Chinese minister of
finance promulgated an arbitrary increase. Polo failed to say more about tea because,
from the standpoint of a visitor to the Mongol court of the Khan, tea was an
inconsequential predilection of the subject native Chinese population.
Tea was described, however, in later Venetian travelers’ accounts. After Polo, it was
first named in print in the West in 1559 as “Chai Catai” or the “tea of China,” in the
posthumous publication Navigatione et Viaggi, or Voyages and Travels, by Giambattista
Ramusio (1485–1557), a Venetian author celebrated for accounts of voyages in ancient
and modern times. While abroad, Ramusio heard about tea from Hajji Mahommed (or
Chaggi Memet), a Persian caravan merchant. After this early notice in Venice, tea was
not mentioned again in any known Italian book until 1588, when a 1565 letter of the
Florentine Father Almeida was published by the famous author Giovanni Maffei as part
of his voluminous collection of traveler’s papers, Four Books of Selected Letters from
India (Florence).
Their manner of eating and drinking is: everie man hath a table alone, without table-
clothes or napkins, and eateth with two pieces of wood like the men Chino: they drinke
wine of Rice, wherewith they drink themselves drunke, and after their meat they use a
certain drinke, which is a pot with hote water, which they drinke as hot as ever they may
indure, whether it be Winter or Summer…the aforesaid warme water is made with the
powder of a certaine hearbe called Chaa, which is much esteemed, and is well
accounted among them.2
Here we find some of the trappings Europeans still associate with Japan, including
saki and chopsticks. As a result of this information and the interest it engendered in Lin
Schoten’s countrymen, the introduction of tea to Europe became the work of the Dutch,
the great trading rivals of the Portuguese. In the beginning of the seventeenth century, a
Dutch ship, sailing from Macao to the port of Amsterdam, brought the first bale of
green tea leaves to the Continent. In 1641, the Dutch captured Malacca from the
Portuguese and signed a ten-year truce at The Hague ratifying their conquest. The
Dutch became the only Europeans allowed to trade in Japan until 1853.
The Dutch bring tea from China to Paris and sell it at thirty francs a pound, though
they have paid but eight and ten sous in that country, and it is old and spoiled into the
bargain. People must regard it as a precious medicament; it not only does positively
cure nervous headache, but it is a sovereign remedy for gravel and gout.6
Despite this early flurry of interest in Paris, the predilection for tea abated and, as
noted by Pierre Pomet (1658–99), “chief druggist” to Louis XIV and author of Histoire
generale des drogues (which appeared in English translation as A Compleat History of
DRUGGS), was succeeded within fifty years by a taste for coffee and chocolate. It has
never revived since. Tea remained available at great expense from apothecaries, as
shown in Pomet’s 1694 price list, which offered Chinese tea at seventy francs a pound
and Japanese tea at one hundred and fifty to two hundred francs a pound.
Though the British East India Company had been chartered in 1600, none of the
British merchantmen brought back samples of tea (or coffee either) in the early years.
On June 27, 1615, R.Wickam, the company’s agent in Hirado, Japan, made one of the
earliest known mentions of tea by an Englishman, in a letter to a man named Eaton who
was the agent in Macao. The reference is part of a list of desiderata that presupposes his
correspondent’s familiarity with the leaf: “Mr. Eaton I pray you buy for me a pot of the
best sort of chaw in Meaco, 2 Fairebowes and Arrowes, some half a dozen Meaco guilt
boxes square for to put into bark and whatsoever they cost you I will be alsoe willinge
acoumptable unto for them.”8 It was not until 1664 that there is any record in the British
East India Company’s books respecting a purchase of tea, and that of a shipment of only
two pounds and two ounces of “good thea” for a promotional presentation to King
Charles II, so that he would not feel “wholly neglected by the Company.”
From this time forward, the Dutch faced a rival in the English, as their competing
East India Companies each promoted the sale of its tea and coffee imports throughout
Europe. The Dutch took the major step of introducing the coffee plant to Java in 1688,
and as a result that island became one of the world’s leading fine coffee producers,
giving rise to the epithet “Java” as an enduring nickname for coffee. However, despite
Dutch commercial successes, their largely craft-based society failed to grow into a
modern industrial economy that could successfully compete in the long run with the one
that was to develop in England.
Between 1652 and 1674, there were three largely indecisive wars between the Dutch
and English that grew out of their trading rivalry. After 1700, the brief, celebrated
Dutch leadership in international trade, science, technology, and the arts increasingly
fell into decline, and their fourth and final conflict, fought from 1780 to 1784, ended
disastrously for Dutch sea and colonial power. On December 31, 1795, the Dutch East
India Company was dissolved, and the triumph of the British East India Company was
complete.
Coffee, as well as tea, was both promoted and denounced by Dutch physicians of the
time, while the popularity of both drinks continued to increase among all classes. In
1724, the Dutchman Dominie Francois Valentyn wrote of coffee that “its use has
become so common in our country that unless the maids and seamstresses have their
coffee every morning, the thread will not go through the eye of the needle.” He goes on
to blame the English for what he regarded as the deleterious invention of the coffee
break, which he calls “elevenses,” after the hour of morning in which it was taken. In
the years 1734–85, Dutch imports of tea quadrupled, to finally exceed 3.5 million
pounds yearly, and tea became Holland’s most valuable import.
Knowledge of coffee and even coffee itself came to France a hundred years before
Suleiman. The earliest written reference to coffee to arrive there was in a 1596 letter to
Charles de I'Écluse by Onoio Belli (Lat. Bellus), an Italian botanist and author.9
Bellus referred to the “seeds used by the Egyptians to make a liquid they call cave”
and instructed his correspondent to roast the beans he was sending “over the fire and
then crush them in a wooden mortar.”10 In 1644 the physician Pierre de la Roque, on his
return to Marseilles from Constantinople, became the first to bring the beans together
with the utensils for their preparation into the country. By serving coffee to his guests,
and turning them on to caffeine, he achieved some notoriety among the medical
community. Around this time news about coffee reached Paris, but samples of the beans
that were sent there went unrecognized and were confused with mulberry. Pierre’s son,
Jean La Roque (1661–1745), famous for his Voyage de L’Arabie Heureuse (1716), an
account of his visit to the court of the king of Yemen, records that Jean de Thévenot
became one of the first Frenchmen to prepare coffee, when he served it privately in
1657. And Louis XIV is said to have first tasted coffee in 1664.11 Yet, despite all of
these precursors, it was Suleiman whose lavish Oriental flair first fired the imaginations
of Paris about coffee and the lands of its provenance.
Suleiman, who had made such an austere appearance at court, surprised Paris society
by taking a palatial house in the most exclusive district. Exaggerated stories spread that
he maintained an artificial climate, perfumed with the rosy scent that presumably filled
Eastern capitals, and that the interiors were alive with Persian fountains. Inevitably, the
women of the aristocracy, drawn by curiosity and wonder, and perhaps impelled as well
by the boredom endemic to their class, filed through his front gate in answer to his
invitations. Ushered into rooms that were dimly lit and without chairs, the walls
covered with glazed tiles and the floors with intricate dark-toned rugs, they were bidden
to recline on cushions and were presented with damask serviettes and tiny porcelain
cups by young Nubian slaves. Here they became among the first in the nation to be
served the magical bitter drink that would soon become known throughout France as
“café.”
Isaac Disraeli paints a rich picture of taking coffee with the Ottoman ambassador in
Paris in 1669:
On bended knee, the black slaves of the Ambassador, arrayed in the most gorgeous
costumes, served the choicest Mocha coffee in tiny cups of egg-shell porcelain, but,
strong and fragrant, poured out in saucers of gold and silver, placed on embroidered
silk doylies fringed with gold bullion, to the grand dames, who fluttered their fans with
many grimaces, bending their piquant faces—be-rouged, be-powdered, and be-patched
—over the new and steaming beverage.12
The women had come seeking intelligence; instead, coffee induced them to supply it.
Suleiman spoke fluently of his homeland but confined his remarks to such innocuous
matters as stories of coffee’s discovery by the Sufi monks and the manner of coffee’s
cultivation and preparation, describing for them the plantations of southwestern Arabia,
planted around with tamarisk bushes and carob trees to protect them from locusts.
Meanwhile the well-born ladies, the wives and sisters of the leading military and
political men in Louis XIV’s realm, felt their tongues loosening with the expansive
effects of a heavy dose of caffeine on nearly naive human sensoriums; for the Turkish
coffee Suleiman served, “as strong as death,” boiled and reboiled and swilled down
together with its grounds, was some of the strongest ever made. Inevitably, they began
to talk, to titter, to chatter, to gossip, their words animated by the stimulant power of
caffeine. Thus it was that by the same drug, caffeine, which a few decades earlier in the
vehicle of chocolate had enabled Cardinal Richelieu to create the conditions for Louis
XIV’s absolute power, that any prospect of securing an alliance with Mohammed IV
was now undone.
For it was in this way, by plying the women with strong drink, that the devoted
Suleiman, though exiled from the Bourbon court, discovered its inner plottings and
strategies and concluded that the Sun King dealt with the Turks only to create
apprehension in his old enemy, King Leopold I of Austria, and that Louis could not be
relied on by the sultan to send troops to assist, for example, in the next siege of Vienna,
which, as it turned out, was less than fifteen years away. Perhaps this was the first time
in history when the relations between two great monarchs were in large part
conditioned, mediated, and even decided by the power of caffeine.
Although coffee was introduced to the French aristocracy and the common man alike
in the time of Louis XIV, because of its limited popularity at Versailles, coffee’s further
progress into good society was slow. In any case, so long as Parisians could procure
coffee only from Marseilles, only the wealthiest could undertake to provision
themselves by sending for a supply. The trappings of Turkish customs, including
turbans and imitation Oriental robes, endured a brief enthusiasm among the upper
classes. But Turkomania became an object of ridicule, and, accordingly, it and the
consumption of coffee soon waned. Molière, in his comedy Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme,
produced when Suleiman Aga was still in Paris, mocked the aristocratic cult that
indulged in the sacrament of coffee drinking. Perhaps because of the Gallic aversion to
foreign intrusions, the French aristocrats, after indulging a momentary dalliance, turned
their backs on coffee, at least for the decade, with disdain. The time for caffeine’s wide
enjoyment was not to come in France until Louis XV. In order to flatter his mistress,
Madame du Barry, who had herself painted as a Turkish sultana being served coffee,
Louis spent lavishly to give the drink vogue. He was to commission at least two solid
gold coffeepots and direct Lenormand, his gardener at Versailles, to plant about ten
hothouse coffee trees, from which six pounds of beans would be harvested annually, for
preparation and service to his special friends by the king’s own hands.13
During much of the centuries-long struggle between the Ottoman and Hapsburg
Empires, the Armenians, as Christian subjects of the Turks, traveled and traded up and
down the Danube, freely crossing the shifting border between the contesting powers. It
is therefore no surprise to learn that an Armenian, one Pascal, whether he came to Paris
on his own or in attendance to Suleiman Aga, should have become, in 1672, the first to
sell coffee to ordinary Parisians. Until then, few people had had the opportunity to drink
it. As Heinrich Edward Jacobs says, “It was consumed only occasionally in the houses
of distinguished persons, whose family economy was self-contained.”14
Pascal the pitchman, spotting an opportunity, aimed at the bourgeois market when he
erected one of the 140 booths that filled nine streets with commercial exhibits and
offerings in the gala annual fair in St. Germain, just across the Seine and outside the
walls of Paris proper. His maison de caova was designed as a replica of a
Constantinople coffeehouse, and its exotic Turkish trappings, when all things Turkish
were in vogue among the élite, drew curious members of the public with its mystery
and with the novel sweet, roasted scent of fresh coffee. Carrying trays of le petit noir, as
it was called, black slave boys darted among members of the street crowd who, either
from shyness or inability to find an open space, hung back from approaching the stall
itself. Pascal recognized that to make headway with the public, coffee would have to be
as cheap as wine; and by importing directly from the Levant and cutting out the
Marseilles middlemen, he was able to sell the rare drink for only three sous a cup.
Flush with his success at the fair, the enterprising Pascal decided to open what he
intended would be a permanent coffeehouse at Quais de l’École near the Pont Neuf.
When business proved slow, he instituted the practice of sending his waiters, carrying
coffeepots heated by lamps, from door to door and through the streets, crying “Café!
Café!” Despite this aggressive retailing strategy, he soon went broke, packed up, and
moved to London. Once there, he may well have headed straight for St. Michael’s Alley
in Cornhill, where London’s first coffeehouse had been opened twenty years before by
another Armenian immigrant, who, confusingly enough for us, was also named Pascal.
From Then to Now: Café Procope and Other
Regency Cafés
Great is the vogue of coffee in Paris. In the houses where it is supplied, the proprietors
know how to prepare it in such a way that it gives wit to those who drink it. At any rate,
when they depart, all of them believe themselves to be at least four times as brainy as
when they entered the doors.
—Charles-Louis de Secondat, baron de La Brede et de Montesquieu (1689–1755),
personal letter, 1722
The world’s first café, a French adaptation of the Islamic coffeehouse, was opened in
1689 in Paris by François Procope. Procope, a Florentine expatriate, started his food
service career as a limonadier, or lemonade seller, who attracted a large following after
adding coffee to his list of soft drinks. Undeterred by Pascal’s recent failure, Procope
decided to target a better class of customers than had the Armenian by situating his
establishment directly opposite the Comédie Française, in what is now called the rue de
I’Ancienne Comédie. His strategy worked. As the London coffeehouses were doing
across the Channel, it attracted actors and musicians and a notable literary coterie. Over
the two centuries of its operation as a café, the Procope served as a haunt for such
writers as Voltaire, a maniacal coffee addict, Rousseau, Benjamin Franklin,
Beaumarchais, Diderot, d’Alembert, Fontanelle, La Fontaine, Balzac, and Victor Hugo.
Like Johnson’s famous armchair in Button’s coffeehouse, Voltaire’s marble table and
his favorite chair remained among the café’s treasures for many years. Voltaire’s
favorite brew was a mixture of chocolate and coffee, which gave him effective doses of
both caffeine and theobromine. He is quoted as having remarked of Linant, a
pretentious and untalented versifier, “He regards himself as a person of importance
because he goes every day to the Procope.”
Like its English counterparts, the Café Procope became a center for political
discussions. Robespierre, Marat, and Danton convened there to debate the dangerous
issues of the day, and were supposed to have charted the course that led to the
revolution of 1789 from the café. Napoleon Bonaparte, while still a young officer, also
frequented the Café Procope, and was so poor that the proprietor prevailed on him to
leave his hat as security for his coffee bill. The Café Procope was an astonishing
success, and from its advent coffee became established in Paris. By one accounting,
during the reign (1715–74) of Louis XV there are supposed to have been six hundred
cafés in Paris, eight hundred by 1800, and more than three thousand by 1850.
According to another more modest reckoning, there were 380 by 1720. Whatever the
exact numbers, it is clear that, from the beginning of the eighteenth century, cafés
proliferated as rapidly in Paris as the coffeehouses had in London in the last half of the
seventeenth century.
Another itinerant Parisian coffee seller, Lefévre, also opened a café near the Palais
Royal around 1690. It was sold in 1718 and renamed the Café de la Régence, in honor
of the régent of Orléans. Well located to attract an upscale crowd, the café attracted the
nobility, who assembled there after withdrawing from paying homage to the French
court. The café drew many of the Procope’s customers, and the list of literary and other
patrons reads like a Who’s Who of French literature and society over the next two
centuries. Robespierre, Napoleon, Voltaire, Alfred de Musset, Victor Hugo, Theophile
Gautier, J.J.Rousseau, the duke of Richelieu, and Fontanelle are still remembered in
connection with their visits there. In his Memoirs, Diderot records how his wife gave
him nine sous every day to pay for coffee at the Régence, where he sat and worked on
his famous Encyclopédie. The historian Jules Michelet (1798–1874), writing many
years later, gives a vivid account of the ways in which coffee and the café changed and
enlivened Parisian life:
Paris became one vast café. Conversation in France was at its zenith For this sparkling
outburst there is no doubt that honor should be ascribed in part to the auspicious
revolution of the times, to the great event which created new customs, and even
modified human temperament—the advent of coffee.
This sudden cheer, this laughter of the old world, these overwhelming flashes of wit, of
which the sparkling verse of Voltaire, the Persian Letters, give us a faint idea!15
The coffeehouses are visited by respectable persons of both sexes: we see among the
many various types: men-about-town, coquettish women, abbés, country bumpkins,
nouvellistes [purveyors of news], the parties to a law-suit, drinkers, gamesters,
parasites, adventurers in the field of love or industry, young men of letters—in a word,
an unending series of persons.16
Despite this pervasive heterogeneity, many Paris cafés catered to special clienteles.
Café Procope’s chief rival in regard of attracting poets was the Café Parnasse.17 The
Café Bourette also attracted the literati, the Café Anglais was favored by actors and the
after-theater crowd, the Café Alexandre was patronized by musical performers and
composers, the Café des Art drew opera singers and their entourage, and the Café
Boucheries was a place where directors came to hire actors for new productions. But
the arts and letters did not have an exclusive hold on the institution. The Café Cuisiner
was the favorite of coffee connoisseurs and featured a variety of exotic blends. The
Café Defoy was known for sherbet as well as coffee. The Café des Armes d’Espagne
was an army officers’ hangout. The Café des Aveugles, which featured musical
entertainment by blind instrumentalists, was a den of prostitution.
Toward the end of the nineteenth century, after the Procope and the other cafés had
lost their literary reputations, Paul Verlaine, the leader of the Symbolist poets, made the
Procope his favorite haunt and thereby partly restored, for a time, its former glory The
Procope is still in business today as a restaurant.
In 1697 de Luca secured the right to do business in Vienna and married the daughter
of a wealthy citizen. Fortunately for him the city fathers were then asserting themselves
against the abundance of restrictive royal concessions. Later in the same year, together
with two other Armenians, Andreas Pain and Philip Rudolf Kemberg, de Luca acquired
a license from the city which gave him, in derogation of Diodato’s royal license, the
exclusive right to trade in coffee, chocolate, tea, and sherbet. Diodato’s wife was in no
position to argue on behalf of her absent husband, because the royal grant to him had
been inalienable. 21 De Luca immediately opened a coffeehouse to take advantage of his
new privileges. By the time Diodato returned to Vienna in 1701, he must have been
astonished to see the growth of the coffee business. Perhaps promoted effectively by the
example of the new Turkish embassy staff, who consumed several tons of coffee a year,
coffee had come into almost universal use, and the number of coffeehouses exploded
accordingly. In 1714, eleven coffee makers joined to found a trade association, and the
coffee trade in Vienna had come of age. As coffee grew in popularity, a bitter
contention arose between the coffee-boilers guild and the distillers guild. In 1750 Maria
Theresa finally settled the quarrel by forcing the coffee-boilers to sell alcohol as well as
coffee and the tavern keepers to sell coffee as well as alcohol, a measure which unified
the two guilds.
On the advice of Greiner, one of her ministers, she later imposed a tax on alcohol so
heavy that it helped coffee to increase in popularity.
Between the end of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century, from
before the First World War to the start of the Second, Vienna became notable for its
cafés and café society. People of every sort, from professional men and civil service
workers and artists and students, to unemployed laborers and penniless émigrés, would
pass hours in the cafés. One of the funniest stories to emerge from this Viennese
coffeehouse milieu is about Leon Trotsky:
A modern café in Vienna. (Photograph courtesy of Julius Meinl, A.G., Vienna, Austria)
There was a little-known Russian émigré, Trotsky by name, who during World War I
was in the habit of playing chess in Vienna’s Café Central every evening. A typical
Russian refugee, who talked too much but seemed utterly harmless, indeed, a pathetic
figure in the eyes of the Viennese. One day in 1917 an official of the Austrian Foreign
Ministry rushed into the minister’s room, panting and excited, and told his chief, “Your
excellency… Your excellency… Revolution has broken out in Russia!” The minister, less
excitable and less credulous than his official, rejected such a wild claim and retorted
calmly, “Go away…. Russia is not a land where revolutions break out. Besides, who on
earth would make a revolution in Russia? Perhaps Herr Trotsky from the Café
Central?”22
Bentz soon replaced the blotter paper with a strong porous paper, the sort we are
familiar with today, and engaged a tinsmith to produce aluminum pots, more than a
thousand of which were sold at the Leipzig Trade Fair. Encouraged by this early
success, Bentz’s husband created and assumed the management of a company in 1912,
which he named after his wife, to produce the coffeepots and filters. Despite
improvements and variations, the basic Melitta method of making coffee, which is
simple, dependable, convenient, and produces a rich, clear brew, is still in use today in
more than 85 percent of German households and in almost every country around the
world.23
The fashions of preparing, serving, and drinking tea also evolved. The Europeans
imitated the Chinese, who made tea in unglazed red or brown, plain or decorated
stoneware pots, the use of which they believed made for the best brew. These stoneware
pots arrived with the first Dutch shipments of tea and were subsequently widely copied
by European craftsmen.
The Portuguese and Spanish began to return from the Orient with porcelain as early
as the sixteenth century, but, because of porcelain’s expense, its use outside their
homelands remained limited.24 This changed when the Dutch began to import large
quantities of Chinese and Japanese porcelain, making it cheaper and spreading its use
by reexporting it throughout the Continent. It was so cheap in its countries of origin that
the Dutch captains loaded their holds with tons of porcelain to ballast their ships,
making the previously rare commodity increasingly common. As early as 1615,
published accounts make certain that Chinese porcelain was in everyday use in most
Dutch homes. As ordinary as these imports had become, some still saw in them the
hallmark of exotic splendor. In 1641, the Dutch physician Nikolas Dirx, “Dr. Tulpius,”
wrote of the delicate, handleless porcelain cups and opulent tea services that were now
being used in his country: “the Chinese prize them as highly as we do diamonds,
precious stones and pearls.” Later, so much porcelain was brought into England by that
country’s East India Company that it can fairly be said that never, before or since, had
ordinary people, poor by our standards, drank or dined with such luxurious
appurtenances.
Porcelain was coveted because of its beauty and impermeability, which made it easy
to wash. During the seventeenth century, almost all the porcelain brought to Europe was
the Ming blue-and-white variety. The Dutch began copying the Ming ceramics and, by
the middle of the century, the famous blue-and-white Delft potteries produced credible
imitations of the Eastern originals in the chinoiserie style that was later to become
popular in Europe.
From the end of the seventeenth century, both coffee and tea services began to
assume their modern forms. The first English silver teapot, with a nearly conical shape,
was made in 1670. Between 1650 and 1700, the broad flat Chinese bowls were more
and more frequently placed on saucers. However, the practice of pouring the coffee
from the bowl into the saucer persisted even after handles had been devised for the
bowls. This upside-down way of drinking remained customary until the end of the
eighteenth century, when drinking from the saucer became socially frowned upon.
Man and Child Drinking Tea, artist unknown, c. 1725. This painting is sometimes called
Tea Party in the Time of George I. The silver equipage includes a silver container and
cover, a hexagonal tea canister, a hot water jug or milk jug, slop bowl, teapot, and
sugar tongs. The cups and saucers are Chinese export porcelain, which was in good
supply in the colonies as well as throughout Europe. (Colonial Williamsburg
Foundation)
It was also in the eighteenth century that the Germans became adept at designing and
producing fine porcelain teapots. By the century’s close, the full development and
importance of the modern equipage in Germany is evident in the words of Caspar David
Friedrich (1774–1840), the Romantic German painter of spiritual, desolate, and
brooding landscapes, in a letter to his family, dated January 28, 1818: “Coffee drum,
coffee grinder, coffee siphon, coffee sack, coffee pot, coffee cup have become
necessaries; everything, everything has become necessary.”25 By the Biedermeier
period (c. 1815–48) in Germany and Austria coffee and tea machines and the
accompanying porcelain equipage became widely recognized status symbols. Paintings
from the period illustrate that the social rank of a family might be accurately estimated
from the deliberate display of the items necessary to take morning coffee or tea.
6
the late adopters
Germany, Russia, and Sweden Join In
Everybody is using coffee. If possible, this must be prevented. My people must drink
beer.
—Frederick the Great, from a proclamation against coffee, September 13, 1777
For breakfast he partook of coffee, which for the most part he had prepared himself in a
glass machine. Coffee appears to have been his most indispensable form of
nourishment, which he consumed to the same excessive degree as was known to be the
case with Orientals. Sixty beans would go into one cup of coffee, often counted out
exactly, particularly if guests were present.1
However, in Beethoven’s day, because royal edicts interfered with and sometimes
prohibited the consumption of coffee and tea, these caffeinated beverages were not
widely accepted in Germany and Sweden as they had long been throughout most of
Europe.
However if you partake to excess of such kahave water, it completely extinguishes all
pleasures of the flesh. They write of a king, Sultan Mahmud Kasnin, who reigned in
Persia before Tamerlane [Timur], and who became such an habitual drinker of kahave
water that he forgot his spouse and developed a repugnance of intercourse which
displeased his queen greatly. For on one occasion as she sat in the window and espied
how a stallion was being held down prior to castration, it is said that she inquired what
was happening. And upon being told with all due frankness that the intention was to
tame the lust of the horse that it would no longer mount another or service a mare, she
expressed the view that such steps were unnecessary, all that had to be done was to give
him the shameful kahave water, and he would soon be like the king.7
This lurid story helped dissuade generations of Germans from becoming coffee
drinkers and was used by beer and wine merchants and other enemies of coffee to
support their arguments. Olearius’ travelogue was translated into French by Wicquefort
and published in Paris in 1666, and the tale’s repetition bolstered the faction in
Marseilles that preached opposition to the black potion.
Nevertheless, coffee drinking made limited inroads in Germany in the seventeenth
century. As in other countries, private persons had early isolated encounters with the
bean. In 1631, for example, a German merchant from Merseburg was sent a parcel of
coffee from a Dutch business associate. Unfortunately, his wife decided to improve the
recipe that accompanied it by substituting chicken broth for water, and the resulting
drink did little to spread the use of the beverage.8 Coffee was also promoted by printed
pamphlets and street-criers. The drink was first sold publicly in temporary stalls, like
that of Pascal the Armenian in Paris. In fact, the early spread of coffee drinking in
Germany probably owes more to the influence of foreigners than to the example of the
upper classes. In the early eighteenth century, Hamburg and Leipzig were the only
German cities regularly visited by people from abroad, and it is no accident that the first
German coffeehouse was founded by a Dutchman to serve the tastes of English
merchants and sailors in Hamburg, and that the coffee used there was also an English
import. Called the “English Coffee House,” it was opened in Hamburg by Dr. Cornelius
Buntekuh in 1679, a man known throughout Europe for promoting the health and
longevity benefits of drinking enormous amounts of tea daily. The first German
advertisement for the sale of the caffeinated beverages appeared in the Frankfurt
Journal of 1686: “Notice is hereby given to all and sundry, that all kinds of chocolate,
coffee and tea, as well as raw coffee may be purchased at the premises of Matthia
Guaitta, Italian in the Narnberger Hof.”9 Other coffeehouses were soon opened in other
cities, in Regensburg in 1689, Leipzig in 1694, and Berlin in 1721. By about 1725 the
coffeehouses in Germany had brought caffeine into broad use by the middle class,
finally overcoming such stringent opposition as the threat by the bishop of Paderborn to
levy high fines on coffee and place coffee drinkers in the stocks.
Frederick the Great’s Campaign against Coffee
The wine dealers in France and Italy had resisted the incursion of coffee, and coffee
met with similar opposition from alehouse keepers in Germany. The greatest obstacle to
coffee use in Germany came not from interested merchants, however, but proceeded
directly from the intercession of Frederick the Great (1712–86), who, in the course of a
lifelong campaign against the bean, promulgated bans, taxes, and even a special police
squad to keep his subjects safe from coffee’s threat to their health and pocketbooks.
In 1766, Frederick imposed a state monopoly on coffee imports. He decided that,
although coffee was a suitable drink for the aristocracy, it served as a ruinous luxury for
the common people. Following a strange theory of international commerce that is still
current, he believed that, as a result of the German purchase of coffee beans from
abroad, money would “flow out” of the country and deepen the economic distress. He
also accepted the verdict of German physicians that coffee was bad for the health,
especially the medical warnings that coffee caused effeminacy in men and sterility in
women. He used his monopoly and authority to levy taxes in an attempt to restrict its
use to the upper classes, causing much discontent among the populace.
Over the ensuing decades, Frederick continued and even expanded his war on coffee.
He himself had been brought up on the old beer soup and reasoned that if beer soup was
good enough for the monarch, it was good enough for his subjects. In a royal attempt to
turn back the culinary clock, he issued the following proclamation on September 13,
1777:
It is disgusting to notice the increase in the quantity of coffee used by my subjects, and
the amount of money that goes out of the country in consequence. Everybody is using
coffee. If possible, this must be prevented. My people must drink beer. His Majesty was
brought up on beer, and so were his ancestors, and his officers. Many battles have been
fought and won by soldiers nourished on beer; and the King does not believe that
coffee-drinking soldiers can be depended upon to endure hardship or to beat his
enemies in case of the occurrence of another war.10
His efforts were partially successful for a short period, and beer soup enjoyed a brief
revival. However, as it had everywhere else, coffee’s progress ultimately proved
ineluctable. By 1781, Frederick attempted to contain the evil by creating a royal
monopoly on roasting, the Declaration du Roi concernant la vente du café brûlé. He
granted special roasting licenses to the nobility, the clergy, and government officials,
but even they had to buy the green beans from him. The license fees and the profits
from the sales of beans made Frederick a fortune.
The average German was forced into seeking various unpleasant substitutes for
coffee, including beverages brewed from wheat, barley, corn, dried figs, and chicory.
(Many Germans resorted to similar replacements, with equally unsatisfactory results,
during World War II.) The pursuit of real coffee created a thriving black market, which
Frederick fought to suppress. A French minister whom he had charged with the
enforcement of his edict created a special squad of agents, popularly called “coffee
smellers” or “coffee sniffers,” to go among the people and sniff out violators by
following the undisguisable aroma of roasting coffee. The spies, mostly wounded or
retired soldiers from the last war, were given a quarter of all the fines they were
responsible for collecting. Needless to say, the people considered them insufferable
intruders.
From this period dates Bach’s famous “Coffee Cantata” (1732), a one-act comic
operetta in which the excesses of both sides of the argument are satirized. Bach had
read and been impressed by a frightful poem by Picander, a Leipzig poet, published as
part of his Parisian Fables in 1727. The poem pretended to satirize the health debates in
France and Louis XV’s grant of a state monopoly for coffee as a means of restricting its
use to the court, but was obviously aimed closer to home, at German resistance to the
new drink:
The French king is supposed to have relented only after his subjects began dying in
droves, and the nation was saved. After Bach read this poem, he commissioned
Picander to write a libretto for a cantata on the subject of the “coffee mania among
women.” The resulting libretto tells the story of a father, Schlendrian, or “Slow Poke,”
who attempts to dissuade his daughter, Lieschen, from using the dangerous drink. He
enjoys a brief success when he threatens to interfere with her marriage plans. But when
her mother and grandmother both start imbibing, his cause is lost. Lieschen’s
overweening craving for coffee is expressed in the famous line, “Ah! How sweet coffee
tastes! Lovelier than a thousand kisses, sweeter far than muscatel wine!”
Coffee use in Germany declined during Frederick’s campaign to control it and nearly
vanished from Hamburg, its first German home. In Leipzig, however, it had taken
firmer root. Known at this time as “little Paris,” it was a city which, until about 1750,
set the cultural pace for the entire country. Richer and more powerful than Berlin or its
closest rival, Dresden, Leipzig was not only a center of international trade but soon
succeeded Frankfort-on-Main as the national center of book printing, so both merchants
and the literati came there in great numbers. Leipzig became celebrated for its gardens
and its coffeehouses, which developed distinct followings as the London coffeehouses
had done generations before. The Kaffebaum was a favorite of university students.
Ricter’s was a center for foreigners, travelers, and merchants, and people who were
concerned with mounting the famous city fairs. It was a hangout as well for the
intellectuals, such as the scholarly satirist Zachariae. As it had done in England, the
coffeehouse culture began to jostle and awaken the literary taste, and a new German
classical literary style sprouted from the arid Gottsched rococo period, marked by
“spiritlessness” and “turgidity.”12
In Berlin, too, coffee caught on, and there, as across Germany, Kaffeekrazchen,
mostly for women, became increasingly popular from the end of the eighteenth through
the nineteenth centuries. Outdoor cafés and tents from which coffee and other
refreshments were served also began to appear.
Tea, like coffee, arrived in Germany in the seventeenth century. It was at first
available only from apothecaries, and appears on their price lists by 1657. At this time,
it was also served in salons for the enjoyment of the upper classes. Its use spread
slowly, except in coastal areas such as Ostfriesland where it was enthusiastically
embraced; unlike coffee, tea never achieved great popularity nationwide.
Although chocolate arrived in Germany from Holland well after coffee and did not
enjoy any aristocratic status from precedence, it nevertheless, at least during the
eighteenth century, became associated with elegance and leisure. Schivelbusch asserts
the theory that chocolate was a habit of the aristocratic and conservative ancien regime,
while coffee was the choice of the rising middle class and the age of enterprise:
Goethe, who used art as a means to lift himself out of his middle class background into
the aristocracy, and who as a member of a courtly society maintained a sense of
aristocratic calm even in the midst of immense productivity, made a cult of chocolate,
and avoided coffee. Balzac, who, despite his sentimental allegiance to the monarchy,
lived and labored for the literary marketplace and for it alone, became one of the most
excessive coffee-drinkers in history. Here we see two fundamentally different working
styles and means of stimulation—fundamentally different psychologies and
physiologies.13
This dichotomy seems more clever than correct, although Balzac certainly preferred
coffee to tea, which he described as “an insipid and depressing beverage,” or to
chocolate, for that matter. But Goethe too had enjoyed coffee—even, in his later
judgment, excessively. Leipzig, which he visited at sixteen, though it had suffered the
heavy indemnities imposed by the Prussians and was already in decline, was the first
sizable city he ever saw, and, as a teenager, he wrote of its coffeehouses in Memories of
Youth. Like many other Germans of his day, he also frequented the cafés of Italy during
his Grand Tour, especially the Café Florian of Venice and the Café Greco of Rome.
Because of this tourist traffic, the Café Florian, named for its first proprietor, who
founded it in 1720, became one of the most celebrated on the Continent, the haunt of
the Venetian aristocracy and a fast international set, as well as of artists and writers,
whose ranks included Goldoni, Casanova, Rousseau, Byron, Alfred de Musset, and
George Sand. The Café Greco, named for its Greek founder, Nicola della Maddelena,
opened for business sometime before 1750. Its patrons included many famous Germans
such as Schopenhauer, Mendelssohn, Liszt, Wagner, as well as Stendhal, Thackeray,
Gogol, Mark Twain, Bizet, and Arturo Toscanini.14
So, although it is true that, in his mature years, Goethe had reservations about
coffee’s excessive use and berated his mistress for her lapse in their vow to abstain, it
would be misleading to say that he “avoided coffee” altogether. And, as it turns out,
Goethe was a kind of culinary pioneer, for, in the last decade of his life, at a time when
“chocolate,” to most of his countrymen, meant a beverage, he discovered the solid
confection while vacationing at an Austrian resort and made a present of a boxful of
geological samples mixed with chocolate candies to Ulrike von Levetzow, a
nineteenyear-old girl, attaching this couplet:
The Soldier Drinks, an oil painting by Russian artist Marc Chagall, 1911–12, in which
the samovar shares equal prominence with the titular subject of the painting. Perhaps
the soldier is tipping his cap to his favorite things: his lover, his hometown, and, of
course, his tea. (Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum)
7
judgements of history
Medical Men Debate Caffeine
We advise tea for the whole nation and for every nation. We advise men and women to drink tea daily; hour
by hour if possible; beginning with ten cups a day, and increasing the dose to the utmost quantity that the
stomach can contain and the kidneys eliminate.
—Dr. Cornelius Buntekuh, Medizinischen Elementarlehre, Dutch physician in the pay of the Dutch East
India Company, c. 1680
Caffeine itself was not known until Goethe exhorted Runge to determine the chemical constituents of
coffee beans and was not isolated from tea or cacao until some years later. However, the content of the
spirited, often vituperative medical debates attending the introduction of coffee, tea, and chocolate proves
that the medical men of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries saw in these drinks a common, if
unidentified, agency and that many of what we would today call the pharmacologic and psychoactive
properties of caffeine were well recognized long before the drug itself was known. As a result, coffee, tea,
and chocolate were frequently addressed together as medicinal products in early European texts. A famous
example, widely translated in Europe, was Sylvestre Dufour’s Traitez Nouveaux & curieux Du Café, Du
Thé et Du Chocolate, Ouvrage également necessaire aux Medecins, & tous ceux qui aiment leur santé
(1685), which means New and Curious Qualities of Coffee, Tea and Chocolate, a Work Equally Necessary
for Doctors, & for All Who Value Their Health. As the title illustrates, at the time of Dufour’s book, all
three caffeinated drinks were still considered drugs, and their distribution in most countries was limited to
apothecaries and physicians.1 As all three caffeinated drinks became available to the lay public and became
popular throughout most of the Western world, their ubiquity only served to fuel the ongoing medical
controversies over the hazards of casual or indiscriminate consumption and stir new inquiries into their
effects on the human body.
Some skilled in the medical lore of the seventeenth century devoted their time and talents to praising the
caffeinated drinks for their ability to quicken the circulation, dispel inebriation and promote sobriety,
increase alertness and creativity, cure gout, scurvy, and dropsy, relieve headaches and kidney stones,
improve appetite and digestion, purify the blood, stimulate the wit, and prolong life. Others applied
themselves to blaming these drinks for desiccating body and brain and inducing headaches, emaciation,
impotence, and premature death. However, medical debates have rarely been conducted in isolation, free
from the influences of political, economic, social, or religious forces, and the historical controversies over
the merits of caffeinated beverages have been no exception. Important commercial interests were at stake
in these disputes. At the same time that the Dutch East India Company tea merchants were underwriting
Buntekuh, the physician who was perhaps Europe’s biggest promoter of caffeine, the French wine
merchants were sponsoring his counterparts in their anticaffeine campaign.
Printer’s ornamental engraving from Dufour’s Traitez Nouveux & curieux Du Café, Du The et Du
Chocolate. This engraving, appearing at the top of each chapter in Dufour’s famous 1685 work, is one of
many contemporary depictions of men of three exotic nations and the caffeinated beverages indigenous to
their homelands: The Turk with his coffee, the Chinese with his cup of tea, and the Aztec with a goblet of
chocolate. (The Library Company of Philadelphia)
The Muslims not only gave to Europe the secret of drinking coffee and the institution of the coffeehouse;
their sophisticated culture and science provided the basis for the medical controversies attending coffee’s
introduction and proliferation in Europe as well. Medieval medical learning in the Muslim world was
founded on the ancient humoral theory of Hippocrates as elaborated by Galen, and by the time coffee, tea,
and chocolate arrived in and spread throughout Europe in the seventeenth century, medical thinking in the
Western world, under the influence of Islamic learning, was defined by the humoral theory as well. Galen,
a Greek physician who lived in Rome in the second century, posited four personal types: the melancholic,
choleric, phlegmatic, and the sanguine, each corresponding with the predominance of one of the four
humoral fluids and its associated properties. Food, drinks, and medicines were all considered by humoral
theorists to possess one or more of these properties in one degree or another. Where a given property is
present in the first degree, we have a food. Where present in the second degree, we have a food or a
medicine. Where present in the third degree, we have a medicine only. Where present in the fourth degree,
we have a poison.
Heat the beer in a saucepan; in a separate small pot beat a couple of eggs. Add a chunk of butter to the hot
beer. Stir in some cold beer to cool it, then pour over the eggs. Add a bit of salt, and finally mix all the
ingredients together, whisking it well to keep it from curdling. Finally, cut up a roll, white bread, or other
good bread, and pour the soup over it. You may also sweeten to taste with sugar.4
When each day began with a dish like this and when there were frequent drinking contests, in the course
of which competitors fell one by one into an unconscious stupor, until a lone victor, like Socrates in the
Symposium, rose and went home in singular awareness of his heady triumph, a nearly unmitigated state of
alcoholic impairment was endemic.
Eventually a new attitude toward alcohol, arising with and perhaps in part as a consequence of the
beginnings of modern industrial society, began to predominate in Europe, an attitude that had less patience
for drinking bouts or alcoholism as a way of life. Considered in the context of pandemic inebriation that
plagued Europe before caffeine’s arrival, some of the more effusive claims made on behalf of the health
benefits of the temperance beverages seem more reasonable; after all, simply curtailing alcohol
consumption would have made millions feel better and work better from morning to evening.
Old ways die hard, and the ascent of the three new temperance beverages and the decline of traditional
alcoholic drinks sometimes occasioned complaint. Elizabeth Charlotte (1652–1722), often called Liselotte
von der Pfalz, a German princess who, after her marriage to the duke of Orléans, was required to relocate
to Paris, wrote frequently in her correspondence to criticize the new drinks available at the court of
Versailles:
Tea makes me think of hay and dung, coffee of soot and lupine-seed, and chocolate is too sweet for me—it
gives me a stomachache—I can’t stand any of them. How much I would prefer a good Kalteschale [a cold
soup made with wine and fruit] or a good beer soup, that wouldn’t give me a stomachache.5
To judge from her letters, all three, coffee, tea, and chocolate, could still be credibly referred to at the
beginning of the eighteenth century as “dainties” and “foreign spices.” But the future belonged to the
temperance beverages. Even in North America, the popularity of coffee was apparent by 1670, only six
years after the British took over Dutch New Amsterdam, by which time coffee had replaced beer as New
York’s favorite breakfast drink.
Carolus Linnæus, the great eighteenth-century Swedish botanist who brought the first viable tea plants to
Europe, seemed to foresee the change from the alcoholic to the workaholic that caffeine heralded: “On this
account [coffee] might be considered useful by those who set a higher worth upon saving their time than
on maintaining their lives and health, and who are compelled to work into the night.” His comment
demonstrates a lucid understanding of what we now consider the primary benefit of caffeine: imparting
energy, increasing alertness, and forestalling sleep, and its primary application, in helping us to work when
it is required we do so. He seems equally sensible of the personal danger that the use of stimulants, or
overwork, may entail.
Jules Michelet (1798–1874), French historian, philosopher, and poet, writing of Europe in the
seventeenth century and envisioning coffee as the elixir of mental clarity that saved Europe from the
diabolical ruination of alcohol, vividly contrasts the old excesses of alcohol with the new sobriety of
coffee:6
Henceforth is the tavern dethroned, the monstrous tavern is dethroned which even half a century earlier
had sentyouths wallowing twixt casks and wenches, is dethroned. Fewer liquor-drenched songs on the
night air, fewer noblemen sprawled in the gutter.... Coffee, the sober drink, the mighty nourishment of the
brain, which unlike other spirits, heightens purity and lucidity; coffee, which clears the clouds of the
imagination and their gloomy weight; which illumines the reality of things suddenly with the flash of truth.
If you have a mind to eat something or to drink other liquors, there is commonly an open shop near it,
where you sit down upon the ground or carpets and drink together. Among the rest they have a very good
drink, by them called Chaube that is almost as black as ink, and very good in illness, chiefly that of the
stomach; of this they drink in the morning early in open places before everybody, without any fear or
regard, out of China cups, as hot as they can; they put it often to their lips but drink but little at a time, and
let it go round as they sit.
In this same water they take a fruit called Bunnu which…have within them, two yellowish grains in two
distinct cells, and besides, being they agree in their virtue, figure, looks, and name with the Bunchum of
Avicenna, and Bunca of Rasis ad Almans [Rhazes] exactly; therefore I will take them to be the same, until I
am better informed by the learned. This liquor is very common among them, wherefore there are a great
many of them that sell it, and others that sell the berries, everywhere in their Batzars.7
In Dr. Edward Pocoke’s translation (Oxford, 1659) of Rauwolf’s The Nature of the Drink Kauhi, or
Coffee, and the Berry of which It Is Made, Described by an Arabian Physician, we find a good account of
what was understood about the bean and its medical value in terms of contemporary humoral theory:
Bun is a plant in the Yaman [Yemen], which is prepared in Adar, and groweth up and is gathered in Ab. It is
about a cubit high, on a stalk about the thickness of one’s thumb. It flowers white, leaving a berry like a
small nut, but that sometimes is broad like a bean; and when it is peeled, parteth in two. The best of it is
that which is weighty and yellow; the worst, that which is black. It is hot in the first degree, dry in the
second: it is usually reported to be cold and dry but it is not so; for it is bitter and whatsoever is bitter is
hot. It may be that the scorce is hot, and the Bun it selfe either of equall temperature, or cold in the first
degree.
That which makes for its coldnesse is its stiptickness. In summer it is by experience found to conduce to
drying of rheumes, and flegmatcick coughes and distillations, and the opening of obstructions, and the
provocation of urin. It is now known by the name of Kohwah. When it is dried and thoroughly boyled, it
allayes the ebullition of the blood, is good against the small poxe and measles; the bloudy pimples; yet
caught vertiginous headheach, and maketh lean much, occasioneth waking, and the Emrods, and
asswageth lust, and sometimes breeds melancholly.
He that would drink it for liveliness sake, and to discusse slothfulnesse, and the other properties that we
have mentioned, let him use much sweat meates with it, and oyle of pistaccioes, and butter. Some drink it
with milk, but it is an error, and such as may bring in danger of the leprosy.8
The humoral terminology has not changed since Avicenna. And the uncertainty remains, as to a point
that seems fairly fundamental, over whether coffee is, in terms of this theory, hot or cold in the first degree,
although its dryness seems beyond dispute. The humoral hypothesis was rendered meaningless before it
was discarded entirely. Medical experts after Rauwolf, in continuing their attempt to apply humoral
analytical categories to coffee, eventually adopted the truistic formula that coffee somehow contained all
the properties manifest in the fourfold scheme. In consequence, no possible experience with coffee could
disprove the cogency of the humoral categories. Of course, this simply meant that nothing substantive was
any longer being asserted, and, where nothing meaningful is being said, there can be nothing false either.
Such looseness made it possible to attribute the widest range of benefits to coffee; for example, it could at
once be said to dispel the gloom of the melancholy, mollify the choleric, and enliven the phlegmatic.
Likewise, all manner of ills could be laid at its door.
Many new medical and ecclesiastical panegyrics on tea, coffee, and chocolate appeared, praising the
drinks as panaceas. The first and fiercest opponent of their salutary view was Dr. Simon Pauli (1603–80), a
German physician, who published Commentarius de Abusu Tabaci et Herbae Thee, etc. (Rostock, 1635), a
medical tract with many dire admonitions about the detrimental effects of tea, coffee, chocolate, and, for
good measure, tobacco. Both on account of his authority as physician to the king of Denmark and, later,
through the translation of his work into English by one Dr. James as A Treatise on Tobacco, Tea, Coffee,
and Chocolate (London, 1746), Pauli’s enmity toward the three caffeinated beverages enjoyed a
widespread and enduring influence.
Pauli judged all the drinks to be equally injurious:
Hence we may reasonably infer, that as Chocolate agrees with Coffee and Tea,…so all these three exactly
agree with each other, in producing Effeminacy and Impotence…. I therefore hope, that for the future, the
Europeans will be wise, and reject Coffee, Chocolate, and Tea; since they are all either equally bad, or
equally good: Nay, I hope to see People of all Ranks and Conditions, have as great an Aversion to them as
the Mahometans and Turks, or rather their Emperors have to Tobacco, the Lovers of which as well as those
who are idle, prodigal, barren, impotent, or effeminate, they will not suffer to live within their Territories.9
His book begins by proclaiming that the Chinese “are guilty of fulsome Exaggeration” when they assert
that tea prolongs life, although he grants to tea a few genuine virtues in which we can see recognition of
the effects of caffeine. “The first of which, according to Rhodius, is, that it alleviates Pains of the Head,
and represses Vapors: The second, that it corroborates the Stomach: And, the third, that it expels the Stone
and Gravel from the Kidneys.”10 In any case, there was no reason to risk tea’s hazards in the hope of
gaining such benefits. Pauli believed that betony, a traditional European medicinal herb, bestowed them
and more and without the attending risks.11
Pauli rehearses a long list of health problems consequent to the use of tea and asserts that chocolate is at
least as bad and that coffee is worse. But, according to Pauli, drinking tea had special problems for
Westerners, because as a result of the rigors of transportation and the change in climate, tea loses the
virtues that “it may be admitted that it does posses in the Orient,” becoming dangerous indeed, so that,
having deteriorated, “It hastens the death of those that drink it, especially if they have passed the age of
forty years.”12 In the face of this menace, Pauli saw himself as a hero carrying forward a venerable
tradition of public health education:
As Hippocrates spared no Pains to remove and root out the Athenian Plague, so I have used the utmost of
my Endeavours to destroy the raging epidemical Madness of importing Tea into Europe from China.13
The Netherlands was the only major European nation in which there never arose a movement advocating
caffeine temperance, or coffee and tea prohibition. The Dutch scientists and medical men, unlike many of
their French and German counterparts, were more than tolerant of the new arrivals, and their enthusiastic
or even fanatical promotion of the use of coffee, tea, and chocolate might well be called “caffeinomania.”
For example, Jean Baptista van Helmont (1577–1644), a Flemish chemist, physiologist, and physician,
taught his students that tea had the cleansing effects of leeches or laxatives and should be used in their
place. Nikolas Dirx (1593–1674), another famous Dutch doctor, was also one of the earliest European
physicians to promote the benefits of tea. In Observationes Medicae (Amsterdam, 1641), writing under the
name “Dr. Tulpius,” he called attention to what are today some of the well-recognized effects of caffeine:
Nothing is comparable to this plant. Those who use it are for that reason, alone, exempt from all maladies
and reach an extreme old age. Not only does it procure great vigor for their bodies, but it preserves them
from gravel and gallstones, headaches, colds, ophthalmia, catarrh, asthma, sluggishness of the stomach
and intestinal troubles. It has the additional merit of preventing sleep and facilitating vigils, which makes it
a great help to persons desiring to spend their nights writing or meditating.14
Franz De le Boë (1614–72), or Franciscus Sylvius, a fellow Dutch physician, who helped establish
modern chemistry as a science and championed Harvey’s theory of the circulation of the blood, influenced
Dutch doctors such as Stephan Blankaart and many German physicians as well to recommend copious
quantities of the “newly important novelties, tea and coffee, as panaceas for acidity and blood purifiers.”15
As a result of his efforts, several of the great German universities, including Jena and Wittenberg,
promulgated these doctrines.
However, of all the physicians who wrote in praise of the medicinal value of coffee and tea at the close
of the seventeenth century, yet another Dutchman, Dr. Cornelius Decker (1648–85), of Alkmaar, otherwise
known as Dr. Cornelius Buntekuh (or Bontekoe), was their most distinguished and fervent advocate and a
fitting adversary of Simon Pauli. An entrepreneur as well as a flamboyant medical theoretician, he is said
to have opened the first coffeehouse in Hamburg in 1679.
Buntekuh did more than anyone else to promote the general use of both coffee and tea in Europe. In a
book published in 1679, Buntekuh advised drinking a minimum of ten cups of tea daily, and recommended
building up to fifty, one hundred, or two hundred cups, amounts he frequently consumed himself.16 Based
on a record that the company paid him a handsome honorarium in gratitude for the boost his advocacy
gave to tea sales, it is said that Buntekuh may have initially been hired by the Dutch East India Company to
write in praise and defense of tea. This was perhaps the first grant of money in the West by a commercially
interested party to a physician or scientist friendly to the use of a caffeinated beverage to write in its favor,
an endowment reminiscent of Lu Yü’s commission from the Chinese tea merchants nearly a thousand years
earlier. Of course, the provision of money by merchants to support publishable research friendly to caffeine
continues to this day.
Frederick William (r. 1640–88) inherited his throne following the destruction of the Thirty Years’ War,
when towns stood abandoned, Berlin was devastated, and productive industry was suspended. Because the
ruler admired the Dutch people for their stalwart character, determination, and diligence, Frederick induced
thousands to immigrate to help repopulate his desolate kingdom. He also mounted a campaign to lure
foreign intellectuals to Germany, to help in working a miraculous revival for the nation. Partly in
consequence of this effort, he became a man ahead of his time in respect to coffee and tea, when Dr.
Buntekuh, then regarded as an eminent physician, became one of many to accept Frederick’s invitation to
relocate from Holland to Germany. As a result of Buntekuh’s blandishments, Frederick started drinking
coffee himself and imported his personal supply of beans from Buntekuh’s homeland.17
Buntekuh’s scientific goal, to improve the dietary habits of Europe, was greatly advanced by his new
place in Frederick’s court. Because his father was an innkeeper under the sign of the “Bunte Kuh,” or the
“brindled cow,” his neighbors dubbed him with the cognomen he later signed to his scientific monographs.
After studying philosophy, with special attention to Descartes, Buntekuh moved to Amsterdam and then to
Hamburg. Frederick William enticed him to come to Germany by seeing that he was offered an
appointment at the University of Frankfurt-on-the-Oder. In his Medizinischen Elementarlehre and other
books Buntekuh wrote extensively about the analeptic effects of coffee and tea, clearly reflecting his
recognition of the pharmacological properties that we now attribute to caffeine.
Buntekuh taught his students that Harvey’s was the greatest scientific discovery in several hundred
years.18 Like many other contemporary physicians, Buntekuh thought that any substance that enlivened or
accelerated the circulation of the blood was bound to be beneficial. Because coffee and tea evidently
promoted and stimulated this circulation, they boosted the vitality of the Cartesian living machine. As we
shall see, Harvey himself was also one of the great seventeenth-century caffeine enthusiasts.
In the historical saga of caffeine, Buntekuh is also remembered for having published the earliest
European depiction of the cacao tree. His engraving accurately shows how the tree bears its pods directly
from the main branches, one of the plant’s more unusual properties. It also shows how a larger tree may be
planted nearby, as is often done, to shade the young cacao plant.
Buntekuh’s death at thirty-eight did not add credibility to his treatise Traktat van het Excellentie Cruyt
Thee (1679), on the extension of human life by the use of tea, coffee, and chocolate, for he certainly was a
man who took his own medicine. However, we must add for completeness’ sake that he died not of ill
health but by accident, falling down a darkened staircase while carrying books for the Great Elector, as
Frederick was called in recognition of his miraculous revival of the nation. A doubt remains, however, if
the chronic use of toxic doses of caffeine might not have created tremors, excitement, or even delirium that
caused him to lose his footing. At the very least, we might assume that he was critically sleep deprived at
the time of his fall.
Because of Buntekuh’s presence, coffee was brewed at the Berlin Court in the 1670s, although its
circulation was limited to an aristocratic coterie. But despite this brief flirtation with it and the other
caffeinated drinks, Germany was not yet ready for caffeine, and, after Buntekuh’s death, caffeine was not
to become widely popular there for several decades.
Some assure us that coffee is a cooling drink and for this reason they recommend us to drink it very hot….
The burned particles, which it contains in large quantities, have so violent an energy that, when they enter
the blood, they attract the lymph and dry the kidneys. Furthermore, they are dangerous to the brain for,
after having dried up the cerebro-spinal fluid and the convolutions, they open the pores of the body, with
the result that the somniferous animal forces are overcome. In this way the ashes contained in coffee
produce such obstinate wakefulness that the nervous juices are dried up;…the upshot being general
exhaustion, paralysis, and impotence. Through the acidification of the blood, which has already assumed
the condition of a river-bed at midsummer, all the parts of the body are deprived of their juices, and the
whole frame becomes excessively lean.21
His references to “juices” designate the body’s fluids, the balance of which, according to humoral theory,
determined a person’s health. Once again, it is easy tc see the actions attributable to caffeine among the
effects Colomb describes, including what was then often called “desiccation,” or increased urination, and
its power to overcome “somniferous animal forces” and induce “obstinate wakefulness.”
Colomb’s diatribe did not dissuade many caffeine users, for coffee had already insinuated itself into
popular affections and was not to be easily displaced. In France, where doctors of medicine were
lampooned in contemporary plays as pretentious pseudo-savants, their anticoffee blandishments won little
regard from the public. Therefore, despite the reformatory admonitions of physicians such as Castillon and
Fouqué, coffeehouses continued to increase in popularity, as did coffee drinking in the home, and the
merchants imported green coffee from the East in ever increasing quantities to satisfy the demand.
Though Colomb’s exhortations and the admonitions of the physicians of Aix failed to impress the public
at large, they did help to prejudice the views of the medical community for some time. Partly as a result of
Colomb’s arguments, most French doctors toward the end of the seventeenth century advised against the
use of coffee as a comestible, maintaining that it was a potent and potentially dangerous drug that should
be taken by prescription only. Lurid stories about coffee poisoning abounded. When Jean Baptiste Colbert
(1619–83), financier and statesman, died, it was whispered that his stomach had been corroded by coffee.
According to another letter penned by Elizabeth Charlotte, duchess of Orléans, an autopsy revealed that the
princess of Hanau-Birkenfeld had hundreds of stomach ulcers, each filled with coffee grounds, and it was
concluded that she had died of coffee drinking.
Not every Gallic scientist was so easily persuaded of the evils of caffeine. Philippe Sylvestre Dufour
(1622–87), an archaeologist, joined with Charles Spon (1609–84), a Lyon physician, scholar, and Latin
poet, and Cassaigne, another local physician, to perform a chemical analysis of coffee. Based on this
collaborative effort, Dufour wrote his famous work mentioned at the opening of this chapter, which was
reissued in many editions and translations, but which is now only to be found in rare book rooms, Traitez
Nouveaux & curieux Du Café, Du Thé et Du Chocolate (1685).22 This was the first book to attempt to
derive the pharmacologic effects of coffee from its chemical constituents. Among its other benefits, Dufour
asserted that coffee counteracted drunkenness and nausea and relieved menstrual disorders. He repeated
other long-standing claims for the drink, including that it relieved kidney stones, gout, and scurvy, and also
stated that it strengthened the heart and lungs and relieved migraine headaches. He noted with surprise that
some people can sleep at bedtime even immediately after drinking coffee. His overall judgment was a
favorable one: “Coffee banishes languor and anxiety, gives to those who drink it, a pleasing sensation of
their own well-being and diffuses through their whole frame, a vivifying and delightful warmth.”23
(Dufour also wrote an earlier book about the preparation of the caffeinated beverages, The Manner of
Making Coffee, Tea, and Chocolate as It Is Used by Most Parts of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, with
Their Virtues [Lyon, 1671; London, 1685].)
Dr. Louis Lemery (1677–1743) published Traité des Aliments (Paris, 1702; translated by John Taylor
and printed in London as A Treatise of Foods, 1704), in which he summarized what he saw as the
beneficial and harmful effects of coffee. Among the good effects were: strengthening the stomach,
speeding digestion, abating headaches, alleviating hangovers, stimulating the production of urine and
flatulence and the onset of menses, and stimulating the memory and imagination. The bad effects included
emaciation and loss of sexual appetite.24 In the English edition, while ascribing to chocolate most of the
same pharmacological effects as coffee, he also credited it with allaying “the sharp Humours that fall upon
the Lungs,” a clear reference to caffeine’s antiasthmatic properties, and with promoting “venery” as
opposed to diminishing the erotic impulse.
Toward the close of the seventeenth century, Daniel Duncan (1649–1735), a Scottish physician on the
faculty of Montpellier, wrote a polemic addressing all three known caffeinated beverages and throwing in
brandy and distilled spirits for good measure. His book, published in France in 1703, attained considerable
circulation in that country and was translated into English under the title Wholesome Advise against the
Abuse of Hot Liquors, Particularly of Coffee, Chocolate, Tea, Brandy, and Strong-Waters. This 1706
London edition published by H.Rhodes was widely referenced as an authority throughout the eighteenth
century. Dr. Duncan saw himself as a man of moderation and reason, one who fairly considered all sides of
every question and eschewed extremes of all sorts. On the first page of his book he states, in what was an
apparently unknowing recapitulation of a compelling neo-Platonic Augustinian theodicy, that any being,
however base, is better than nothing. “There’s nothing absolutely good, but God…. Among Creatures
there’s nothing absolutely Bad, for [that] they are the workmanship of that infinitely good being,
communicates to each of them some degree of that goodness.”25 After four or five pages more in this vein,
he continues:
Title page: Wholesome Advise against the Abuse of Hot Liquors, Particularly of Coffee, Chocolate, Tea,
Brandy and Strong-Waters, with directions, To know what Constitutions they Suit, and when the Use of
them may be Profitable or Hurtful, by Dr. Duncan of the Faculty of Montpelier, London, Printed for
H.Rhodes at the Star, 1706. This book, by a Scottish physician who took a position on the medical faculty
in France, warned against the dangers of excessive coffee, tea, and chocolate consumption. (Philadelphia
College of Physicians)
That’s the design of this Treatise, and to make a particular Essay upon this General Maxim, by describing
the Good and Bad Use of Hot Things, and especially of Coffee, Tea, Chocolate, and Brandy, of which
abundance of Good has been said by some, and abundance of Ill by others.26
A garrulous moralist, Duncan saw in the pleasures of coffee, tea, and chocolate a dangerous snare.
“Voluptuousness,” he explains, “creates in us an Aversion to good Things, because they are not pleasant;
and an inclination to bad Things, because they please us.” He adds, “Both these things happen in the use of
Coffee, Chocolate, and Tea.” Coffee’s bitterness is so pronounced that coffee at last becomes “agreeable …
not so much by Custom, as by the mixture of Sugar…and since it became pleasant, it’s become pernicious
by the abuse of it.” Calling them all “liquors,” Duncan pronounces a single verdict on all three caffeinated
beverages, suggesting how strongly their common nature as vehicles of a drug was suspected and
providing a vivid impression of how completely caffeine had conquered France by the turn of the
eighteenth century:
The use or abuse of those Liquors has become almost universal. Towns, villages, and all sorts of people are
in a manner over-flow’d by them. So that not to know them is reckoned barbarous. They are in all
Societies, and to be found everywhere. Formerly none but Persons of Qualities or Estate had them, but
now they are common to high and low, rich and poor, so that if they were poison, all mankind would be
poison’d; and if they be good medicines, all men may reap advantage by them when they come to know the
true use of them.
Duncan finally issues the balanced judgment he promised to deliver at the beginning of his book: that
coffee, chocolate, and tea have good and bad effects, depending on who is using them and how much he is
using, but that none of them is either a deadly toxin or a panacea. However, he also observes, too much of
any caffeinated beverage is harmful to anyone, and even a small amount can be harmful to some people.
Duncan concludes, as had so many before him, that many of coffee’s deleterious effects resulted from its
diuretic actions, or “desiccative influence.”27 Although admitting that coffee could be beneficial for those
“whose blood circulates sluggishly, who are of a damp and cold nature,” he asserted that the French did not
suffer from this problem and so joined other French physicians in their opposition to its indiscriminate use
in his adopted country.
He was hott-headed, and his thoughts working would many time keepe him from sleepinge; he told me that
then his way was to rise out of his Bed and walke about his Chamber in his Shirt till he was pretty coole,
i.e. till he had began to have a horror [chill], and then returne to bed, and sleepe very comfortably.
Aubrey testifies that Harvey and one of his brothers were inveterate coffee drinkers before the custom
became popular in England.31 Indeed, as Harvey was seventy-three when the first coffeehouse opened for
business in London, he must have done most if not all of his coffee drinking privately, from the stock that
he had had specially imported from Italy.
He died in 1657, exclaiming to his solicitor and friend, if some undocumented accounts are to be
believed, “This little fruit is the source of happiness and wit!” while running his thumbnail along the
groove of a coffee bean. It was really caffeine that was the object of his praise and celebration. In his will
he leaves his coffeepot and fifty-eight pounds of coffee beans, his entire stock, to his brothers in the Royal
College of Physicians, directing that they celebrate the date of his death each month by drinking coffee
until the supply he had provided became exhausted. The disbelief and controversy surrounding his theory,
as expounded to the Royal College of Physicians (known then as the London College of Physicians),
ultimately resolved into resounding acclaim, and the circulation of the blood was accepted into the arcana
of great scientific discoveries. We leave the story of Harvey with the image in our minds of the members of
the Royal College of Physicians toasting Harvey with the hot, stimulating brew and entertaining a few
more ideas and pursuing a few more experiments than they might, without caffeine’s benefits, have
otherwise undertaken.
The English love of tea, which began in the seventeenth century, was recorded by a host of writers
whose books can be read in rare book libraries today. Dr. William Chamberlayne (1619–89), an English
physician and poet, in his Treatise of Tea, praises the drink for its ability to sustain mental efforts into the
night:
When I have been compell’d to sit up all Night about some extraordinary Business, I needed to do no more
than to take some of this Tea, when I perceiv’d my self beginning to sleep, and I could easily watch all
Night without winking; and in the Morning I was as fresh as if I had slept my ordinary time; this I could do
once a week without any trouble.32
In his elegantly styled Essay upon the Nature and Qualities of Tea (1699), John Ovington (fl. 1689–98),
an English traveler and churchman, who, as the frontispiece declares, served as “Chaplain to His Majesty,”
begins his book with a discussion of “the various Kinds of this foreign Leaf, and the Season wherein it
should be gather’d, of the Method of making choice of the best, and the Means whereby it is preserv’d.”
His fifth and final chapter, “The several Virtues for which it is fam’d,” encompassing half the volume,
exposits tea’s medicinal effects. He claims that “Gout and Stone,” common disorders in Europe, are
virtually unknown in China because of their constant use of tea. The remedial effects appear, he continues,
“especially if it be drunk in such a Quantity, and at such convenient Times, when the Stomach is rather
empty than over-charge’d.” 33
Ovington’s claims for the medical benefits of tea went beyond the treatment of gout and kidney stones.
Unknowingly referencing one of caffeine’s most characteristic effects, he wrote enthusiastically about tea’s
ability to induce urination, “fortify the Tone of the Bowels,” and also noted tea’s ability to aid digestion,
“to strengthen a faint Appetite, and correct the nauseous Humours that offend the Stomach.” He considered
these effects tokens of many additional benefits attendant upon the resulting purification of the body,
especially for “weak and feeble Constitutions.”
Ovington reserves his highest praise for those mentally stimulating powers of tea we now know are
caused by caffeine. He believed that not only could tea act as an antidote to alcohol, which “inflames the
Blood, and disorders the Phantisms of the Brain,” but that it could actually promote imaginative and lively
thoughts: “It nimbly, ascends into the Brain,…it actuates and quickens the drowsy Thoughts, adds a kind of
new Soul to the Fancy, and gives fresh Vigor and Force to the wearied Invention.”
Thus it is with Ovington, in the penultimate year of the seventeenth century, that the notion of caffeine
as a stimulant broadens. Previously, the caffeinated beverages had been credited with the power to sustain
physical strength, as in the conquistador’s boasted that those who drank chocolate could march for a day
without food, and the power to prolong wakefulness, as in the Sufi observation that coffee sustained their
nocturnal devotions or the Taoist observation that tea sustained their prolonged meditations. To these
stimulating powers Ovington adds the idea that tea can provoke “invention” or “fancy,” or, as we should
say, “creativity,” and that it is therefore the natural liquor of the “sons of the Muse.” As to the identity of
the “ingenious Persons” who, Ovington says, had personal benefit from tea’s power to stimulate creativity,
we can only speculate, save for the certainty that he meant to include Edmund Waller (1606–87), whose
poem, “Of Tea, commended by Her Majesty,” addressed to Catherine of Braganza (1638–1705), he
presents in full. This poem praises tea as “the Muse’s friend,” which “does our Fancy aid.” This idea is
well envisioned in Ruffio’s painting Coffee Comes to the Aid of the Muse.
Although Ovington, like others before him, commends the ability of tea to forestall sleep and induce
wakefulness, he regards this ability not so much as a result of the stimulation of the body, but as a
consequence of tea’s power to fire the imagination by “animating the Faculties”:
So that a few Cups of this excellent Liquor will soon rowze the cloudy Vapors that be night the Brain, and
drive away all Mists from the Eyes. ’Tis a kind of another Phoebus to the Soul, both for inspiring and
inlightening it; and in spight of all the Darkness of the Night, and all the Heaviness of the Mind, ’twill
brighten and animate the Thoughts, and expel those Mists of Humors that dull and darken Meditation.34
And yet after all, though these rare and excellent Qualities have long been observable in Tea, yet must we
not imagine that they always meet with the same Effect indifferently in all Persons, or that they universally
prevail. For either the Height of a Distemper, or the long Continuance of it; either the Constitution of the
Person, or some certain occult Indisposition may avert the Efficacy, and obstruct or delay the desir’d
Success. It may either be drunk without Advice, or at unseasonable Times; either the Water, or the Tea, may
be bad; and if the Physick itself be sickly, we cannot easily expect much Health by it.35
From the middle of the seventeenth century to the middle of the eighteenth century, a variety of extreme
opinions about the three temperance beverages competed in England. Most English physicians, who,
unlike their French counterparts of the time, were respected in their native land, advanced the view that
coffee and tea had indispensable medicinal value.36 We get a quick look into the medical opinions of both
countries about tea, coffee, and chocolate from A Compleat History of DRUGGS, a compendious French
materia medica, translated into English in 1712:
Of Tea
The Tea is so much in vogue with the Eastern People, that there are very few who do not drink it; and the
French some Years ago had it in universal Esteem; but since Coffee and Chocolate have been introduced
into that Country, there is nothing near the quantity used as before…
…The Leaf is more used for Pleasure in the Liquor we call Tea, than for any medicinal Purpose; but it has
a great many good Qualities, for it lightens and refreshes the Spirits, suppresses Vapours, prevents and
drives away Drowsiness, strengthens the Brain and Heart, hastens Digestion, provokes Urine, cleanses or
purifies the Blood, and is proper against the Scurvy....
We have six kinds of Tea used in England.... The Bohea, however is esteemed softening and nourishing, and
good in all inward Decays; the Green is diuretick, and carries an agreeable Roughness with it into the
Stomach, which gently astringes the Fibres, and gives them such a Tensity as is necessary for a good
Digestion: Improper or excessive Use may make this, or any thing else that has any Virtues at all, do
Mischief; but there are very few Instances of that; and with Moderation it certainly is one of the best,
pleasantest, and safest Herbs ever introduced into Food or Medicine, and in the frequent Use of which,
People generally enjoy a confirm’d Health: the Green, indeed, if drank too freely, is prejudicial to such as
have weak Lungs; such People, therefore, ought to drink the Bohea with Milk in it.37
Coffee Comes to the Aid of the Muse, a drawing from a painting by Ruffio. This drawing reminds us of the
line from Waller, “Tea, the Muse’s friend,” and the expressions of many famous artists and scientists to the
effect that the caffeinated beverages were important if not indispensable to their creative exertions.
(W.H.Ukers, All about Coffee)
Of Coffee
Caffe, Coffe, Coffi, Buna, Bon, Ban, or Elkaire…Coffee is used for little or nothing I know of, but to make
a Liquor with Water and Sugar, which is more or less esteem’d, by different Nations....
It is an excellent drying Quality, comforts the Brain and dries up Crudities in the Stomach: Some Author
says, it cures Consumptions, Rickets, and Swooning Fits; it helps Digestion, eases Pains of the Head,
rarefies the Blood, supresses Vapours, gives Life and Gaiety to the Spirits, hinders Sleepiness after Vituals,
provokes Urine and the Courses, and contracts the Bowels; it is an excellent Dryer, fit for most Bodies, and
most Constitutions, but that of young Girls, subject to the Green-Sickness; and likewise is prevalent in such
as are apt to have running Humours, sores, or King’s Evil upon them: It prevents Abortion, and confirms
the Tone of the parts drunk after eating; but with this Observation, that this Liquor be always made fresh;
for if it stands but two or three Hours, it will be pall’d and grow naught.38
This Fruit is cooling, as may easily be discern’d by their cold nitrous Taste. They open Obstructions,
restore in deep Consumptions, stimulate to venery causing Procreation and Conception, facilitate Delivery,
preserve Health, help Digestion, make People inclinable to feed, ease Coughs of the Lungs, Gripings of the
Bowels, and Fluxes thereof, cause a sweet Breath, and assist in a Difficulty of making Urine. The chief Use
of them is in Chocolate, which is so well known there needs no longer discourse about it.39
Thomas Gage (1597–1656), an English missionary, traveler, and travel writer, who lived for a while in
South America and wrote a book about the West Indies (referenced in chapter 3), recommends that his
European readers take chocolate cold for health reasons, writing that this is the way the Indians do and
“thus certainly it doth no hurt.” Gage believed that something about living in America weakened the
stomach, stating that “stomachs are more apt to faint than here.” His account of his own consumption of
chocolate has an addict’s characteristically insistent enthusiasm:
For myself I must say, I used it twelve years constantly, drinking one cup in the morning, another yet before
dinner, between nine or ten of the clock; another within an hour or two after dinner, and another between
four and five in the afternoon; and when I was proposed to set up late to study, I would take another cup
about seven or eight at night, which would keep me waking till about midnight. And if by chance I did
neglect any of these accustomed houres, I presently found my stomach fainty. And with this custome, I lived
twelve years in those parts healthy, without any obstructions, or oppilations, not knowing what either ague
or fever was.40
We note that he specifies two among what today are recognized as the major effects of caffeine usage:
forestalling sleep and a physical dependence that can cause an upset stomach if a dose is skipped.
Other observations about of tea’s pharmacological effects are found in an anonymous slim volume,
published in London in 1722, Essay on the Nature, Use, and Abuse of Tea: In a letter to a lady: with an
account of its mechanical operation. The author states that tea is to be regarded primarily as a drug, one
that has medicinal value when prescribed properly by a physician. The book compares tea’s destructive
effects with opium’s and warns:
Among many other Novelties in our Diet, there is one which seems particularly to be the Cause of the
Hypochondriack Disorders [pains and discomforts beneath the breast bone and melancholy]; and is
generally known by the Name of Thea or Tea. It is a Drug, which has of late Years very much insinuated
itself, as well into our Diet, as Regales and Entertainments, tho’ its Operation is not less destructive to the
Animal Oeconomy, than Opium, or some other Drugs, which we have at present learn’d to avoid with more
Caution. That this Drug is useful in Physick, is what I can by no means deny: But as a Medicine, makes it
very hurtful as a Diet. And it may be said of all Bodies whatever, which are useful as Medicines, that they
are Poisons as a Diet.41
It is reported in Hawesworth’s Voyages that Commodore John Byron (1723–86), a British admiral, found
cacao growing abundantly on King George’s Island in the South Seas. Henry Phillips, in The Companion
for the Orchard: An Historical and Botan-ical Account of Fruits Known in Great Britain (1831), reports
that Byron’s claims for cacao’s pharmacological benefits were expansive:42
The oil of the cacao-nut is the hottest of any known, and is used to recover cold, weak, and paralytic limbs.
The Mexicans are said to eat the nuts raw, to assuage pains in the bowels.43
Fifty years after the death of Cornelius Buntekuh and fifty years before Runge discovered caffeine,
elements of humoral theory were still prominent in European medicine. Dr. Simon André Tissot (1728–
97), a Swiss-French physician and medical writer, writing at a time by which coffee had come into general
use even in Germany, accepted coffee’s place in the materia medica but expressed serious objections to its
widespread consumption as part of an everyday diet. In his book Von der Gesundheit der Geleharten, or
The Health of Scholars (Leipzig, 1769), Tissot argued that Buntekuh, in promoting coffee and tea, had
“corrupted the whole of northern Europe.”44 He asserted that accelerating the circulation of the blood, as
coffee would admittedly do, had no value in curing illness and, in fact, will do positive harm:
It is a foolish belief of many sick persons that their ailments are due to an excessive thickness of the blood.
Owing to this fallacy, they drink the harmful beverage coffee. The coffee-pots and tea-pots that I find upon
their tables remind me of Pandora’s box, out of which all evils came…
The repeated stimulation of the fibers of the stomach weakens them in the end; … the nerves are
stimulated, and become unduly sensitive; the energies are dissipated.45
In this passage Tissot expresses his views about the consequences of coffee’s “desiccative” effects. Both
coffee’s defenders and detractors agreed that the beverage had an important relationship to the humoral
fluid, phlegm, or mucus, which it dried up, whether to good or bad effect, depending on the interpretation
of the writer. It was to this effect that Benjamin Moseley, an English physician and medical writer, referred
when he wrote, “coffee, which through its warmth and effectiveness, thins the mucous moistures, and
improves the circulation of the blood.”46 It was likewise of these desiccative effects that Denis Diderot
(1713–1784), in his Encyclopédie, was speaking when he praised coffee’s effect on “heavy-bodied, stout,
and strongly phlegm-congested persons,” while advising that it proved deleterious to the “thin and
bilious.”47 In a chastening response to those who affected to find coffee indispensable, Tissot pointed out
that the great ancient writers, from Homer onward, wrote their great books without its benefit.
Among the furious enemies…of Coffee was SIMON PAULLI of Rostock, afterwards physician to the King
of Denmark… PAULLI founded his prejudice against coffee, as he had his prejudices against Tea,
Chocolate, and Sugar— not on experience, but on anecdotes, that had been picked up by hasty travellers,
which had no other foundation than absurd report and conjecture…its supposed effects, on Sultan
MAHOMET CASNIN, a King of Persia; who it is said, from an excessive fondness of Coffee, had sotted
away the vigour of his constitution. But chemistry and experience have brought the subject into light, and
Paulli’s baseless fabric has vanished.
Moseley continues by lampooning the arbitrary and contradictory humoral classifications into which
coffee’s effects had been traditionally assigned by various medical writers, demonstrating the shift away
from the ancient order in medicine that was starting to occur:
Many have been the dogmas concerning Coffee: some Authors allege that it is dry, and therefore good for
the gross and phlegmatic, but hurtful to lean people; some contend that it is cold, and therefore good for
sanguine, bilious, and hot constitutions; others that it is hot, and therefore bad for the sanguine and
bilious, but good for cold constitutions. Some assure us that it acts only as a sedative; others that it acts
only as a stimulant.48
Moseley offers one of the last efforts to present a scientific analysis of coffee’s active constituents before
the discovery of caffeine by Runge less than thirty-five years later. “The chemical analysis of Coffee,
evinces that it posses a great portion of mildly bitter and light astringent gummois and resinous extract; a
considerable quantity of oil; a fixed salt; and a volatile salt. —These are its medicinal constituent
principles.” Although his chemical analysis is fanciful, Moseley rightly recognized 3 the importance of
good roasting technique, freshness, and proper storage for preparing a desirable beverage:
The roasting of the berry to the proper degree, requires great nicety.... If it is underdone, its virtues will not
be imparted; and in use, it will load and oppress the stomach:—If it is over-done, it will yield a flat, burnt,
and bitter taste; its virtues will be destroyed; and in use, it will heat the body, and act as an astringent.
The closer it is confined at the time of roasting, and till used, the better will its volatile pungency, flavour,
and [medicinal] virtues be preserved.49
Moseley continues the tradition of exaggeration that had already become well established among both
proponents and opponents of the caffeinated beverages, attributing a remarkable variety of medicinal
benefits to coffee. However, in his judgment, the uses of coffee as a medicine fall into two broad
categories. The first is alleviating “disorders of the head,” including headaches, of which he says, “There
are but few people who are not informed of its utility.” The second includes its actions as a stimulant and
cleansing agent or purgative, its “detergent properties…used in all obstructions of the viscera; it assists the
secretions; powerfully promotes the menses, and mitigates the pains attendant on the sparing discharge of
that evacuation.” These opinions, obviously reflecting experience with some of caffeine’s physiological
effects, are exposited at length in his book.
Expressing a theory that has been confirmed in the twentieth century, Moseley spells out some of the
therapeutic benefits of the caffeine in coffee for respiratory problems, a benefit which had been known,
apparently, at least as early as the first decade of the eighteenth century:50
A dish of strong Coffee without milk or sugar, taken frequently in the paroxysm of an asthma, abates the fit;
and I have often known it to remove the fit entirely. Sir JOHN FLOYER [(1639–1734), physician and
medical writer], who had been afflicted with the asthma from the seventeenth year of his age until he was
upwards of fourscore, found no remedy in all his elaborate researches, until the latter part of his life, when
he obtained it by Coffee.
In Moseley’s time, opium, that “inestimable medicine,” which had the ability to “relieve corporal pain
by tranquility, and mental affliction by sleep…and whose excellence no human praise can reach,” was
among the most powerful agents in the pharmacopoeia, and its active constituent agents and derivatives,
such as morphine and heroin, remain among the most powerful drugs available today. Sovereign against
pain, opium, especially when taken to excess, had a variety of side effects that limited its safety. In
Moseley’s opinion, among coffee’s valuable qualities was its unique ability to counteract or reduce opium’s
detrimental side effects; they are, he writes, “only remediable by Coffee.” Moseley thought that coffee was
the specific antidote to opium’s hypnotic effects that had been sought after in vain from “the time of King
MITHRADATES down to the days of Doctor JONES.” He also believed that the “heaviness, giddiness,
sickness, and nervous affections, which attack the patient in the morning, who has taken an opiate at night,
are agreeably removed by a cup or two of strong Coffee.” In his extensive discussion of this ability, it is
evident that Moseley is referring to pharmacological actions that we today ascribe to caffeine:
The general opinion is erroneous, though of long standing, that the Turks used Coffee, exclusive of
culinary purposes, only against the sleepy effects of Opium. The Turks, as well as the Persians and Indians,
take Opium as a cordial, to invigorate them for the temporary enjoyment of amorous pleasures; and to
enable them to support fatigue and to stimulate their nerves to the exertions of courage and enterprize. But
when the desired effects of this cordial are over, langour, lassitude, and ejection of spirits succeed.—It is
for these indispositions, that Coffee is so medicinally necessary to the Turks, and that they use it as their
only remedy.51
Moseley sums up his study with reasonable reflections that have a surprisingly modern sound. Although
acknowledging that coffee and tea may be harmful to some people in some conditions of health, he finds,
overall, that their use is both pleasant and potentially of great benefit to the public at large, whose new
access to these drinks, afforded by the drop in duties, he celebrates as offering an antidote to the “chronical
infirmaties” attending the rise of modern urban life. Sounding almost like a twentieth-century
environmentalist, Moseley advances coffee as a kind of green remedy for the ills of urban life:
Let us reflect on the state of atmosphere [air quality]; the food, and modes of life of the inhabitants so
injurious to youth and beauty, filling the large towns and cities with chronical infirmaties; and I think it
will be evident what advantages will result from the general use of Coffee in England, as an article of diet
from the comforts of which the poor are not excluded, and to what purposes it may often be employed, as a
safe and powerful medicine.52
In the first moments or first quarter hour of waking, especially when waking occurs earlier than usual,
probably everyone who does not live in an entirely primitive state of nature experiences an unpleasant
sensation of less than fully roused consciousness, gloominess, a sluggishness and stiffness in the limbs;
quick movements are difficult, and thinking is hard. But lo and behold, coffee dispels this natural but
unpleasant feeling, this discomfort of mind and body, almost immediately.... [The] unpleasant fatigue of
mind and body with the natural approach of sleep, quickly vanishes with this medicinal drink; sleepiness
vanishes, and an artificial sprightliness, a wakefulness wrested from Nature takes its place.55
When black tea, or coffee, has been taken, considerable excitement often ushers in this succession of
phenomena; the face becomes flushed, the eyes sparkle with an unusual brilliance, all the earlier effects of
intoxication from alcohol are observable; the pulse being full and throbbing, and considerably quickened.
If green tea have been taken, the previous excitement is less, or perhaps not at all perceptible. The skin
soon becomes pale, the eyes are sunken, the pulse feeble, quick, and fluttering, or slow and weak.
Cole next discusses the symptoms that indicate the harmful effects of tea, the use of which, in some frail
persons, he thinks results in an identifiable disease:
To the coldness and benumbed feeling of the back of the head, there is added formication of the scalp,
violent pain in the head, dimness of the sight, unsteadiness in walking, vertigo, and these are accompanied
by a feeble fluttering pulse…
I may add here, that the mind does not escape, but partakes of the disorders of the body, as is seen by the
temper becoming peevish and irritable, so as to render the sufferer a torment to himself, and all those
about him.
The following are among the nine case studies which Cole proceeds to review, diagnosing tea as the
culprit in all of them: “Pain at Stomach…rejection of Food”; disturbance in “The Functions of the Heart”;
“Syncope,” or fainting; “sudden attacks of Insensibility”; “Headache”; and, finally, “Convulsions.” Cole
concludes with what may be the first attempt to link cardiovascular pathology with chronic caffeine use:
If it be true, as it has been held, that the continued disturbance of the function of an organ will induce
change of structure, what are we to expect from the use of tea twice a day, when it deranges the function of
the heart for three or four hours after each time of its being taken? If the answer be, that it may be
expected to induce some structural disease, there arises this other question,—May not the greater
prevalence of cardiac disease of late years have been considerably influenced by the increased
consumption of coffee and tea?58
Honoré de Balzac (1799–1850), one of the greatest and most prolific storytellers in history, was
unquestionably a drug addict. His drug of choice was caffeine. Because he was unacquainted with the
chemical itself, Balzac, like many other caffeine enthusiasts before him, equated the effects of caffeine
with those of its primary vehicle, coffee.
While still at boarding school, Balzac indebted himself to a corrupt concierge, who smuggled in the
forbidden beans, still expensive colonial produce, to secure his first supply. His mother was furious over
his self-indulgence, perhaps sensing that it was the beginning a lifelong love-hate relationship with the
stimulant and a nearly forty-year slide into dissipated health. In his adult life, Balzac slept in the early
evening and, rising at midnight, wrote his novels through the night, the next morning, and into the early
afternoon. It was coffee, compulsively and systematically consumed in incrementally increasing doses, that
made these lucubrations possible. Like any true drug addict, he believed the output of his creative energies
depended upon coffee’s chemical arousal.
In the tradition of Ovington’s claim that caffeine comes to the aid of the muse, Balzac, in his book Traité
des Excitants Modernes (1839), or On Modern Stimulants, provides us with a compelling account of the
use of caffeine as an analeptic to keep you awake so you can work, and as an aid to the imagination, which
stimulates the flow of ideas and images. In this passage, Balzac conceives of coffee exclusively as a drug,
speaking of increasing the “dose” to maintain its pharmacological effects and noting its toxic effects on the
stomach and the unstable behavior that attends its sustained use. It would be impossible to improve on the
words of one of history’s greatest prose stylists when he describes his encounter with caffeine:
Coffee is a great power in my life; I have observed its effects on an epic scale Many people claim coffee
inspires them, but, as everybody knows, coffee only makes boring people even more boring.
Coffee sets the blood in motion and stimulates the muscles; it accelerates the digestive process, chases
away sleep, and gives us the capacity to engage a little longer in the exercise of our intellects.
Coffee…reaches the brain by barely perceptible radiations that escape complete analysis: that aside, we
may surmise that our primary nervous flux conducts an electricity emitted by coffee when we drink it.
Coffee’s power changes over time. “Coffee,” Rossini told me, “is an affair of fifteen or twenty days; just
the right amount of time to write an opera.” This is true, but the length of time during which one can enjoy
the benefits of coffee can be extended.
For a while—for a week or two at most—you can obtain the right amount of stimulation with one, then two
cups of coffee brewed from beans that have been crushed with gradually increasing force and infused with
hot water. For another week, by decreasing the amount of water used, by pulverizing the coffee even more
finely, and by infusing the grounds with cold water, you can continue to obtain the same cerebral power.
When you have produced the finest grind with the least water possible, you double the dose by drinking
two cups at a time; particularly vigorous constitutions can tolerate three cups. In this manner, one can
continue working for several days.
Finally, I have discovered a horrible, rather brutal method that I recommend only to men of excessive
vigor. It is a question of using finely pulverized, dense coffee, cold and anhydrous [dry], consumed on an
empty stomach. This coffee falls into your stomach, a sack whose velvety interior is lined with tapestries of
suckers and papillae. The coffee finds nothing else in the sack, and so it attacks these delicate and
voluptuous linings;…it brutalizes these beautiful stomach linings…sparks shoot all the way up to the brain.
From that moment on, everything becomes agitated. Ideas quick-march into motion like battalions of a
grand army to its legendary fighting ground, and the battle rages. Memories charge in, bright flags on
high; the cavalry of metaphor deploys with a magnificent gallop, the artillery of logic rushes up with
clattering wagons and cartridges; on imagination’s orders, sharpshooters sight and fire; forms and shapes
and characters rear up; the paper is spread with ink—for the nightly labor begins and ends with torrents of
this black water.
I recommended this way of drinking coffee to a friend of mine, who absolutely wanted to finish a job
promised for the next day: he thought he’d been poisoned and took to his bed….
The state coffee puts one in when it is drunk on an empty stomach under these magisterial conditions,
produces a kind of animation that looks like anger: one’s voice rises, one’s gestures suggest unhealthy
impatience; one wants everything to proceed with the speed of ideas; one becomes brusque, ill-tempered,
about nothing. One assumes that everyone is equally lucid. A man of spirit must therefore avoid going out
in public. I discovered this singular state through a series of accidents that made me lose, without any
effort, the ecstasy that I had been feeling. Some friends witnessed me arguing about everything,
haranguing with monumental bad faith. The following day I recognized my wrongdoing, and we searched
the cause…and we found the problem soon enough: coffee wanted its victim.59
In this passage coffee is treated in terms that are commonplace among users of heroin and cocaine, but
more unusual among users of caffeine. Especially noteworthy is Balzac’s account of ratcheting up doses so
as to maintain the effect despite a growing tolerance. For Balzac, this process culminates in eating dry
coffee powder. In a manner reminiscent of alcoholics, he speaks of socially unacceptable conduct induced
by caffeine intoxication that became so embarrassing it kept him indoors whenever he drank coffee heavily
thereafter.
The road of drug addiction often ends in premature death. This was the French novelist’s fate, according
to Dr. Nacquart, Balzac’s physician, who had known him since 1815, the year he began to use the toxic
substance: “An old heart complaint, frequently aggravated by working through the night and by the use or
rather the abuse of coffee, to which he had recourse in order to counteract man’s natural propensity to
sleep, had just taken a new and fatal turn.”60
It is sometimes difficult to keep in mind, when reading passages of early medical texts about the ability
of coffee and tea to maintain wakefulness, that the authors had never heard of caffeine and had no direct
evidence that the same unknown agency was at work in both beverages. The change in practice, from
referring to “coffee” to using the word “caffeine” and acknowledging its existence, occurred sometime
around the middle of the nineteenth century. We know that it was still far from complete when Octave
Guelliot (b. 1854) published his monograph Du Caféisme Chronique, or On Chronic Coffeeism, in Rheims
in the 1890s. From the title of his essay, it is obvious that, at this time, the excessive use of coffee
constituted an identifiable syndrome, and it is so regarded in this paper; but, though caffeine had been
described more than seventy years earlier, it was still possible to write a fifty-page medical treatise dealing
primarily with coffee and incidentally with tea as drugs without mentioning the word “caffeine” even once.
Du Caféisme is a strange amalgam of Victorian science and a recapitulation of Pauli’s seventeenth-century
hall of horrors. With respect to understanding the history of caffeine, it provides an excellent example of
science in transition.
How persistent were the Paulian charges against the relatively innocent caffeinated drinks! In somewhat
more modern medical terminology than Pauli’s, Guelliot blames them for causing sleeplessness, sleep-
walking, dyspepsia, tremors, melancholy, pneumonia, loss of appetite, pains in the legs, loss of libido, red
tongues, remarkably brilliant eyes, and dozens of other pathological conditions.
In Guelliot’s treatise, we encounter a list of other substance abuse problems that Guelliot compares with
caféisme: théisme, alcholisme, absinthisme, cocainisme, and morphinisme. It is then that we remember that
the root of the word “caffeine,” which today designates a chemical compound found in coffee, tea, maté,
guarana, cola nuts, and other plants, is the French word “café,” which simply means “coffee.” And during
the nineteenth century the words “thein,” and even “matein” and “guaranine,” were still in use to refer to
the identical drug as it occurred in tea, maté, or guarana. Guelliot ascribes to opium intoxication symptoms
that he says are very similar to those of caféisme, including loss of appetite and wasting away and chills.
In the notes to his treatise, Guelliot gives us an amusing, literate review of the histories of coffee and tea,
especially of their progress in Europe. He tells us that Bernard Le Bovier de Fontanelle (1657–1757) and
Voltaire were both inveterate coffee addicts. In response to the common admonitions of his day that coffee
was a poison and its use would shorten life, Fontanelle, who was to live to a hundred, remarked late in his
life, “Si le café est un poison, c’est un poison lent” (If coffee is a poison, it is a slow poison).
This monograph, written at a time when doctors recognized the existence of caffeine and theine and
many understood their common identity, and yet in which caffeine was still often overlooked in discussions
of the syndromes of chronic, excessive use of coffee or tea, represents the end of an era. Within a few years
following its publication, we encounter the rigorously scientific, double-blind studies of caffeine’s physical
and mental effects by the Hollingworths at Columbia, after which the recognition of caffeine as the most
important active agency in coffee and tea was finally complete.
8
postscript
Why Did Caffeine Come When It
Came?
To people alive today it may seem incredible that the classical and medieval worlds
did not have any stimulant drug, and, even more incredible that they seem to have
managed happily without one.1 Since the seventeenth century, however, Europeans
have relied on caffeine to help them keep to their work schedules by waking them up
when they are sleepy and keeping them going when they are tired, and they have done
so to such an extent that it is difficult to imagine what modern life would be like
without it.
It may be that some of the advantages of using caffeinated drinks became apparent
only once society could no longer mark appointments by the sun and stars. During
medieval times, schedules were lax, holidays many, and disorganization pervasive.
Throughout this period in the West there was not a single accurate clock on the entire
Continent.2 The exactness of timepieces was so limited that a single-handed clock face,
indicating the quarter hours, sufficiently answered to their precision. This remained true
until the uniformity of pendulum motion was discovered by Galileo in 1583, during his
sophomore year at the University of Padua. Over the next hundred years, it came into
general use in Europe as the basis for the first accurate clockwork mechanism. By
around 1660 the minute hand, representing a fifteenfold increase in accuracy, became
common in England.3 Larger-scale industrial and economic endeavors became possible
only once the measurement of small units of time had become standardized and routine,
allowing for coordinated efforts across time and space. This improvement in precision
occurred in the same decades when caffeine use became general in Venice, Paris,
Amsterdam, London, and across the Continent.4 Its date corresponds well with the
opening of the first coffeehouses in London and the beginning of the vigorous
coffeehouse culture as a center of the trades, the sciences, and the literary arts.5 Once
this chronometric standardization occurred, the use of an analeptic became a virtual
necessity to regulate the biological organism, allowing people to meet the demands of
invariant scheduling. The only suitable analeptic, one easily available, well tolerated,
safe, and effective, is caffeine. There is a sense, therefore, in which the combination of
the clock and caffeine may have been essential to the development of modern
civilization, and it may not be going too far to assert that the modern world, at least as
we know it today, could neither have been envisioned nor built without this
combination to make it possible.6
It also may be that another advantage of the caffeinated drinks, that they did not
contain alcohol, could only be appreciated by peoples who, having been troubled by
intemperate drinking, were no longer able to afford the resulting impairments. During
medieval times, most heavy work was done by people who had been drinking alcohol
since breakfast and who continued to drink it throughout the working day. In a besotted
Europe, the caffeinated beverages were heralded as the great agents of sobriety, which
could free men from the intoxication and distress of alcoholic drinks. It is a challenge to
the twentieth-century imagination to conceive how medieval man designed and built the
great cathedrals during a period when beer for breakfast was standard fare. The tour
guides conducting visitors through European or English cathedrals frequently point out
a site near the ceiling where some hapless person, often the architect or chief engineer,
slipped off a scaffold to his death. Considering how much alcohol was being consumed,
it is easy to envision how this mischance could have been so often repeated.
Brian Harrison, writing of the temperance movement in Victorian England, ably
sums up both aspects of the relation of modern work to caffeine:
The effects of industrialization on drinking habits are complex…in some ways it made
sobriety more feasible. The change in methods of production at last created a class with
a direct interest in curbing drunkenness. Traditionally, work-rhythms had fluctuated
both within the day and within the week: idleness on “Saint Monday” and even Tuesday
was followed by frantic exertion and long hours at the end of the week.... Early
industrialists needed to create a smooth working rhythm and to induce their employees
to enter and leave their factories at specified times. Investment in complex and costly
machinery placed the employee’s precise and continuous labor at a higher premium
than the spasmodic exertion of his crude physical energy. Once this need had arisen,
customary drinking patterns had to change.7
Caffeine, therefore, in the vehicles of coffee and tea, fostered the productivity gains
that a newly competitive environment demanded, and did so in two important ways.
First, caffeine helped large numbers of people to coordinate their work schedules by
giving them the energy to start work at a given time and continue it as long as necessary
and, in some cases, even increased the accuracy of their work. This meant that people
could work longer hours and accomplish, proportionately, even more than they had
before. Second, the caffeinated beverages, by displacing the heavy consumption of
alcohol, markedly reduced one of the endemic impairments of medieval industry. Sober
workers always produce more and better work than drunken ones.
In the sixteenth century, an an additional factor made the drinks in which caffeine
was served desirable and perhaps indispensable, even apart from their value in
conveying a stimulant.8 Beginning at this time, a mini-ice age gradually overtook
Europe, bringing with it famine, hard winters, and cold summers. The Swiss scholar
H.J.Zumbühl searched drawings, paintings, and photographs in museums and private
collections throughout the Continent, amassing more than three hundred visual
representations of the Lower Grindelwald glacier between 1640 and 1900. When
Zumbühl systematically dated the pictures and made suitable adjustments for each
artist’s viewpoint, he was amazed to note these images proved the ice had been in
overall advance since the start of that period, and in overall retreat since about 1850.
Detailed histories of the Mont Blanc region of the Alps confirm the advance of the
glacier, which apparently began around 1550.
Extensive seventeenth-century French accounts of the “impetuosity of a great
horrible glacier” were confirmed in the early 1970s by climatologist and cultural
historian E.Le Roy Ladurie. Some of the stories that survive tell a chilling tale of how,
in 1690, poor peasants from Chamonix paid the travel expenses for the bishop of
Geneva, in the hopes he would exorcise the juggernaut of ice from their farmlands and
meadows. His prayers were apparently answered when the ice withdrew. Unfortunately,
it resumed an inexorable return a few years later.9
The chill deepened over the decades. Famine claimed many lives in Finland, Estonia,
Norway, and Scotland in the winter of 1695, the coldest winter of a cold decade. In
1771, famine struck again, after a long sequence of snowy summers in central Europe,
and the beginning of a rapid spurt forward by the Swiss glaciers.10 Possible causes of
the mini-ice age include the earth shifting on her axis, increasing sunspots that reduced
the amount of solar heat, or exploding volcanic activity that spewed light-filtering dust
into the atmosphere. Whatever brought on the chill, this long freeze may have prompted
Europeans to resort to the caffeinated drinks for their value in staving of hunger and
keeping warm and may well have been the initial impetus for the adoption of the
caffeinated beverages and the spread of caffeine as the most popular drug on earth.
PART 3
Coffee and tea have given rise to a great duality: two major, largely divergent streams
in the cultural history of caffeine. Coffee has become associated with all things
masculine and with the the artist, the nonconformist or political dissident, the
bohemian, even the hobo, as well as the outdoorsman. Its use is often considered a vice,
its consumption linked with frenetic physical and mental activity, intense conversation,
and with other indulgences that threaten health and mental balance, such as tobacco,
alcohol, and late nights of hard partying or excessive work. Tea, in contrast, is
associated with the feminine and with the drawing room, quiet social interaction,
spirituality, and tranquillity and is regarded as the drink of the elite, the meditative, the
temperate, and the elderly. These differences between coffee and tea are easily seen by
comparing the ancient, worldwide, socially inclusive, and rough and ready institution of
the coffeehouse with the decorous traditions of the Japanese tea ceremony and the
English afternoon tea. An acknowledgment of these differences must underlie the fact
that, although coffee has been the subject of many bans and opposed by many
temperance movements, tea has rarely, if ever, appeared on anyone’s list as a substance
that ought to be put beyond the pale of law or morality.
The more it is pondered, the more paradoxical this duality within the culture of
caffeine appears. After all, both coffee and tea are aromatic infusions of vegetable
matter, served hot or cold in similar quantities; both are often mixed with cream or
sugar; both are universally available in virtually any grocery or restaurant in civilized
society; and both contain the identical psychoactive alkaloid stimulant, caffeine. It is
true that coffee is generally brewed to a caffeine strength over twice that of a typical
cup of tea, yet, because more than one cup of each beverage is commonly consumed,
there is no doubt that you can get a full dose of caffeine from either one.
So the question remains: Why has the duality between the culture of coffee and the
culture of tea become so universally and so sharply delineated? For example, why did
tea become the center of a proper, conventionalized, intimate social gathering in both
England and Japan, while coffee failed to do so anywhere? And again, why did coffee
become the stimulant of gossip, business, and political and intellectual banter in
medieval Turkey, in London in the seventeenth century, and in dozens of American
cities at the end of the twentieth century, while tea failed to do so anywhere?
Boisterous Decorous
Bohemian Conventional
Obvious Subtle
Sordid Beautiful
Discord Harmony
Common Refined
Indulgence Temperance
Vice Virtue
Excess Moderation
Down-to-Earth Elevated
American English
Occidental Oriental
Demimonde Society
Full-blooded Effete
Loquacious Reticent
Aggressive Lordotic
Yang Yin
Hardheaded Romantic
Promiscuous Pure
Work Contemplation
Individualism Conformity
Excitement Tranquillity
Tension Relaxation
Spontaneity Deliberation
Topology Geometry
Heidegger Carnap
Beethoven Mozart
Libertarian Statist
Balzac Proust
We cannot answer this question definitively, but can only observe that these disparate
traditions are visible early in the history and development of caffeine culture as realized
in the spreading consumption of coffee and tea. The duality is consistent enough that
divergent examples, such as the Bedouin coffee ceremonies and Arab concentrated tea
swilling emerge as exceptions to a rule.1 Cola beverages and other carbonated soft
drinks containing caffeine do not have a long enough history to be as elaborately
differentiated as coffee and tea: They do have distinctive associations, however, such as
youth, high-energy, America, pop culture, and “good, clean fun.”
Among all the nations, the two that best exemplify both this unlogical duality and the
avid and widespread influence of coffee and tea on art, literature, architecture, politics,
commerce, manners, and society are Japan and England. In Japan, the ancient discipline
and enjoyment of teaism is a perfect embodiment of the tea aspect of caffeine; while the
coffeehouse in twentieth-century Japan, a place of fast-paced conversational, social, and
business interactions, is an instance of the coffee aspect. In England, the boisterous
male melange of the early coffeehouses ideally exemplifies the coffee aspect, while the
refined, feminized afternoon tea, arriving two centuries later, manifests the tea aspect.
And finally, in both Japan and England, the old and the new abide together, so that
coffee and tea are used in both traditional and contemporary ways. Thus, a presentation
of the culture of caffeine in Japan and England offers a uniquely comprehensive view of
caffeine’s dual and powerful agencies.
9
islands of caffeine (1)
Japan: The Tradition of Tea, the
Novelty of Coffee
The taste of ch’an [Zen] and the taste of ch’a [tea] are the same.
—Old Buddhist saying
Tea was brought to Japan from China by Buddhist monks more than a thousand years
ago. As a result of the Japanese adaptation and codification of the Zen tea ceremony
about six hundred years later, the preparation, service, and imbibing of tea became a
mirror of a national aesthetic, moral, social, and metaphysical ideal. In the Japanese tea
ceremony, taking tea was said to be an earthly finger that “pointed to the moon” of
enlightenment, the awakening to which all Buddhists aspired. In modern Japan, with its
Western scientific, educational, industrial, and commercial models, the frenzied ethos of
the rat race has created a largely urban Japanese market for a new drink to fuel their
work and play. As a consequence, while tea use and tea ceremonies abide, coffee has
achieved a powerful and growing presence there. In Japan today, the coffeehouse plays
the important part it played in Arab countries in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
serving as a place in which people can meet and mingle with others outside of their
families or circle of close friends. Because Japanese living quarters are so small, people
flee from their confinement to enjoy the pleasant social respite of the coffeehouse, and
this resort is even more important to them than to the average American or European.
Of course, old Japan and new Japan exist together, intertwined and inseparable, two
aspects of a nation that is in many cultural aspects different from anything European.
Yet in the Japanese love of both tea and coffee, we find a twin affection familiar to the
West. Tea and coffee, emblematic of the traditional and the new, are enjoyed side by
side, there as here.
Although Yeisai must have observed tea ceremonies during his visit to China, it was
Dai-ō the National Teacher (1236– 1303), also a Zen monk, who in 1267 introduced the
tea ceremony he had encountered in China’s Zen monastaries to the Zen monastaries of
Japan. Following Dai-ō’s lead, succeeding generations of Zen monks continued to
practice this ceremony within their own religious communities. Finally, in the fifteenth
century, the monk Shukō (1422–1502) employed his artistic talents to adapt the
ceremony to Japanese tastes and in so doing originated the first form of chanoyu, the
distinctively Japanese tea ceremony that is still practiced today. The tea ceremony itself
can be illuminated for western readers by comparing it with the dialectal method of
Socrates. Through the grammar of this ceremony, the superficialities and illusions of
everyday life and practical pursuits were to be broken down and transcended. The
ultimate goal for any practitioner of the shared mundanities of the Zen tea ceremony
was satori, the insight into the ultimate reality.4 Shukō taught chanoyu to Ashikaga
Yoshimasa (1435–90), shogun and patron of the arts, who helped to establish it as a
national tradition. As a result, during Ashikaga’s reign, the practice of the tea ceremony
escaped the confines of the monasteries and was discovered by the lay population,
especially by the warrior class, the samurai.5
Sen-no-Rikyu (1522–91), a tea merchant by trade, was in some ways the most
important, and, by reputation, the best, in a long line of tea masters in Japan. It was
Rikyu who systematically expounded the principles of chanoyu and designed the
features of the modern tea ceremony and teahouse, and who became the progenitor of
the three major tea schools flourishing in Japan today. In a country where the profession
of tea master has been highly regarded for centuries, Rikyu remains the master of them
all. It was largely as a result of Rikyu’s efforts that, from his time forward, tea became a
symbol of the national culture.
In Rikyu’s day, three groups shared leadership of the nation: the emperor and
aristocrats, the warlords, and the merchants. The emperor on his imperial throne had
become little more than a ceremonial prop, in this respect comparable in status to
Hirohito during World War II or Queen Elizabeth today. The once-feared shogun, who
carried what had degenerated into an hereditary title, had suffered the same fate. The
actual leaders of the country were a new breed of military dictators who arose from the
ranks of the feudal warlords and conspired with the wealthy merchants to increase and
solidify their control of the nation.
Although the warlords wielded military power and the merchants amassed large
fortunes, the social heirarchy, in which aristocrats and priests enjoyed the highest status,
remained anachronistic. It was nearly impossible for anyone outside of their closed
circles to attain the respect and honor, the desire for which, shared even by the wise, has
been called by Aristotle “the last infirmity of the noble mind.” In the throes of this
infirmity, the warlords and merchants tried to establish their legitimacy by patronizing
art and culture. They joined in promoting Zen Buddhism and the Ming Chinese culture
in opposition to the native styles cultivated by the aristocracy. Encouraged by these
military rulers, monk-artists shuttled between China and Japan, established flourishing
ateliers, and, for the first time, through these studios, commoners enjoyed the possibility
of advancement based on talent and achievement. The tea ceremony became a central
device for laying siege to the aristocratic social edifice. In this era of gekokuje, that is, a
topsy-turvy world in which the formerly humble ruled the formerly great, the
incongruous sight of an illiterate peasant samurai pausing to indulge in the refinement
of the tea ritual became increasingly common.
The last Ashikaga shogun was succeeded by Oda Nubunaga (1534–82), strongest of
the feudal lords who fought for ascendancy after the shogun’s death. Nubunaga had
nearly succeeded in unifying the country when he died in a fire that started while he
was brewing tea. After his death, Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536–98), a peasant who had
risen to the rank of Nobunaga’s first lieutenant and who is sometimes called, on account
of his military and political acumen, “the Napoleon of Japan,” took over his power and
completed the work of unifying the country that Nubunaga had begun. Mindful of his
low birth and eager to assure the respect of the increasingly important merchant class,
Hideyoshi, like Nobunaga before him, was a generous patron of chanoyu. In order to
effect a tranquil transition of power and in recognition of Rikyu’s fame as a tea master,
Hideyoshi reconfirmed Rikyu’s position as curator of the palace tea ceremony and
equipage. As fate would have it, this favor was the beginning of Rikyu’s undoing.
Hideyoshi was an avid tea lover and was among the growing number of samurai, or
professional soldiers, who, somewhat incongrously, liked to “seclude themselves in the
tearoom and meditatively sipping a cup of tea, breathe the air of quietism and
transcendentalism.”6 Hideyoshi went further, however, in his vanity, nourishing the
conceit that he was a great tea master himself. During each of Hideyoshi’s military
engagements, his attendants would erect a portable teahouse on the battlefield.
Hideyoshi would then calmly practice the tea ceremony in view of both his own troops
and his enemies, inspiring confidence in the first and fear in the second. Hideyoshi,
rembering his humble origins, resented that Rikyu, although nominally his servant, was
the more honored because of his family’s wealthy merchant connections and his own
celebrated status as the leading tea master. Because the dictator imagined himself
Rikyu’s competitor in the practice of chanoyu, a strange rivalry gradually developed
between them.
Over the years, Hideyoshi’s envy blossomed into paranoia, a transformation
nourished by Rikyu’s deep involvement in the complex social and political intrigues of
the day, perilous pursuits for a man with no real power of his own. Finally, giving in to
a grudge over a real or imagined conspiracy against him or, some say, out of envy over
a statue erected in Rikyu’s honor, Hideyoshi determined to execute his friend, though,
in the spirit of good fellowship, he granted him the honorable option of suicide, a
privilege ordinarily reserved for his samurai brothers.
The story of Rikyu’s death bears an unsettling similarity to the story of the death of
Socrates as told in the Phaedo. Each was honored for his simplicity, austerity, honesty,
integrity, and wisdom, and each, having come into conflict with a despotic civil
authority and condemned unjustly for subverting the state, was directed to commit
suicide, and each, forgoing the opportunity of fleeing to escape his end, did so
peacefully, surrounded by disciples. Just before plunging the dagger into his heart,
Rikyu addressed it in brief lines imbued with the mind-bending antinomy so dear to the
practitioners of Zen:
Welcome to you,
O sword of eternity!
Through Buddha
And through Daruma alike
You have cleft your way.7
Rikyu helped to shape and define every aspect of teaism, the teahouse, the tea
garden, and the tea ceremony. Among his important innovations was replacing the
character “kin” or “reverence,” in the famous traditional hortatory mnemonic Kin Kei
Sei Jaku, or “reverence, respect, purity, and tranquillity,” with “wa,” or “harmony.”
This change signaled a shift from an emphasis on service to one’s superiors to the more
Confucian ideal of harmony and mutual obligation. In Rikyu’s chanoyu “harmony”
referenced the harmony between the participants and the implements of tea preparation;
“respect” referenced the respect shown by the participants to each other and the
implements; “cleanliness,” a Shinto inheritance, referenced the symbolic handwashing
and mouth rinsing practiced before entering the teahouse; and “tranquillity,” which is
imbued throughout every aspect of the tea ceremony, referenced the deliberate and
attentive exercise of each of its components. Rikyu is also credited with the introduction
to the laity of passing the commensural bowl of tea, which Chinese Zen monks had
centuries before shared among themselves in their ceremonies and which, before his
time, was practiced in Japan only among the priesthood. Some people advance the
notion that the rituals of the Roman Catholic Mass may have influenced the
development of chanoyu, because the tea ceremony became important in lay Japanese
life shortly after the Jesuit and Franciscan missionaries began proselytizing. According
to this view, the increased use of the commensural bowl, for example, is the result of
Christian influence.
In a parallel development, tea competitions, which had been widely popular in China
during the Sung dynasty (960–1289), became the rage in Japan between the fourteenth
and seventeenth centuries. In their new home, these contests were blended with a prior
native tradition of monoawase, social competitions involving rival presentations of
“poems, flowers, insects, herbs, shellfish”8 and other items. To play the new tea game,
guests assembled in a tea pavilion, where they were offered four kinds of tea and
challenged to determine by taste and scent which were honcha, grown at Toganoo or
Uji, and which were hicha, tea grown elsewhere.9 These tea competitions, although not
direct ancestors of the Japanese tea ceremony, presaged many of the elements of what
were soon to become the defining rituals of chanoyu.
It suggests a wild beach, or perhaps a seascape with rocky islands, but its unbelievable
simplicity evokes a serenity and clarity of feeling so powerful that it can be caught even
from a photograph. The major art which contributes to such gardens is bonseki, which
may well be called the “growing” of rocks.11
Among the simplest of these sand gardens is the tea garden, the roji, or “dewy path,”
the functional garden path that leads to the teahouse. As with much else in the tea
ceremony, Rikyu’s designs set the standard for future excellence. A roji comprises the
soto roji, the outer part near the garden entrance, and the uchi roji, or the inner part,
near the teahouse. The intention of the Zen designers is not to create the illusion of a
landscape, but to pursue a more abstract ambition: to evoke its general atmosphere in a
confined space.
The teahouse, the cha-shitsu, is a small, one-room hut with a thatched roof, set apart
from the main dwelling, featuring a charcoal pit covered with straw mats and paper
walls supported by wooden rods. On one side is a tiny alcove, or tokonoma, in which is
hung a single painted or calligraphed scroll below which is placed a rock, bouquet of
flowers, or other simple decorative object. Much care is devoted by the tea master to
choosing the object to place in the tokonoma, as the contents of this niche are intended
to set the mood for the ceremony to follow.
Although the Zen masters lavish great care and hard work on designing, building,
and maintaining these houses and gardens, as with everything pertaining to Zen, they
are ambivalent about acknowledging their individual intellectual and artistic
contributions. Their goal is to execute designs with such a light touch that they appear
to have been merely helped, rather than governed, by human agency. With this in mind
the Zen architect or gardener attempts to follow the “intentionless intention” of the
natural forms themselves, achieving his results in a way that could be called
“accidentally on purpose.”
Kakuzo Okakura (1862–1913), curator of Chinese and Japanese art at the Boston
Museum of Fine Arts, undertook a lifelong mission to preserve, purify, and introduce
the West to Japanese art, ethics, and social customs. He brought to this work an
integrated, original vision of entire artistic movements in China and Japan, and it is said
that under his direction “the study of Oriental art attained its first maturity.”12 The
Boston Museum’s collections became world-famous, attracting a small community of
Japanese artisans who settled in the area to perform restorations. Today Okakura is most
famous for his Book of Tea (1906), a turn-of-the-century apology to the West for
Japanese tea tradition as exemplified in the cult or philosophy of teaism. Written in
English, it was read by hundreds of thousands of Americans as their introduction to
Japanese culture. In adducing the pervasive importance of tea, Okakura mentions a
locution that has entered general use:
In our common parlance we speak of the man “with no tea” in him, when he is
insusceptible to the serio-comic interests of the personal drama. Again we stigmatize
the untamed aesthete who, regardless of the mundane tragedy, runs riot in the
springtide of emancipated emotions, as one “with too much tea” in him.13
There is no question about the identity of Okakura’s favorite among the leading
beverages:
There is a subtle charm in the taste of tea which makes it irresistible and capable of
idealization…. It has not the arrogance of wine, the self-consciousness of coffee, nor the
simpering innocence of cocoa.14
Okakura explains the great influence the tea masters have had on the customs and
conduct of Japanese life. Preparing and serving delicate dishes, as well as dressing and
decorating in muted colors, have encouraged what he believes is the nation’s natural
aspiration for simplicity and humility. Okakura states that despite the Western disdain
for most Eastern customs, the West has fallen under the spell of chado and chanoyu.
The English ceremony of afternoon tea is no more than a Western imitation of the great
tea ceremony of Japan:
Strangely enough, humanity has so far met in the tea-cup. It is the only Asiatic
ceremonial which commands universal esteem. The white man has scoffed at our
religion and our morals, but has accepted the brown beverage without hesitation. The
afternoon tea is now an important function in Western society. In the delicate clatter of
trays and saucers, in the soft rustle of feminine hospitality, in the common catechism
about cream and sugar, we know that the Worship of Tea is established beyond question.
The philosophic resignation of the guest to the fate awaiting him in the dubious
decoction proclaims that in this single instance the Oriental spirit reigns supreme.15
The example he gives is of the English essayist Charles Lamb, an ardent tea lover,
who seemed to evince the authentic spirit of teaism. For Lamb “the greatest pleasure…
was to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident.” As Okakura
explains, “For Teaism is the art of concealing beauty that you may discover it, of
suggesting what you dare not reveal.”16
Nevertheless, like the first boil of tea in Lu Yü’s recipe, Okakura’s passionate prose
should be taken with a grain of salt. In his view teaism is, in effect, coextensive with
human wisdom, irrespective of whether the wise men who authored the wisdom in
question were thinking of, were inspired by, or had even ever heard of tea:
Japanese women performing the traditional tea ceremony, from a 1905 photograph by
Jessie Tarbox Beals (1870–1942). (University of Pennsylvania Museum, Philadelphia,
negative #s4–142240)
It is the noble secret of laughing at yourself, calmly yet thoroughly, and is thus humor
itself,—the smile of philosophy. All genuine humorists may in this sense be called tea-
philosophers,—Thackeray, for instance, and, of course, Shakespeare.17
Today, it is said that there are 16,000 kohi shops in Tokyo alone, while 100,000 is
reckoned for the country. Some are miniature concert halls, where symphonies, opera,
jazz and rock music are relayed over sophisticated stereophonic systems. Others have
romantic music, poetry readings, or the most opulent decor. Places like Lily of the
Valley or Picasso, Hygiene, Ten Commandments (the latter looking as if it were straight
out of a Cecil B.DeMille epic) and Magicland, have everything from monstrous five-
storey-high stained-glass murals and Finnish wood, to something resembling a High
Anglican church.21
As she is in many technological areas, Japan is in the forefront in the rush into
cyberspace. A cursory search of the Internet turns up dozens of so-called cybercafés,
with such names as Electronic Café International, KISS, Café Des Pres, and Cybernet
Café. Following the Japanese lead, other Asian countries, such as Hong Kong,
Singapore, Malaysia, South Korea, and Taiwan, now boast cybercafés in great numbers.
Japan has been the launching pad for the Asian coffeehouse. Taiwan, under Japanese
influence, now boasts many coffeehouses with geishalike companionship for the
patrons. Korea also has a number of coffeehouses, often featuring classical music, after
the Japanese model, in the Myongdong district. And in Hong Kong, coffee drinkers sit
at outdoor cafés on benches in the springtime, in a manner reminiscent of Rome, Paris,
and even harkening back to the first Islamic coffee drinkers in Mecca, Cairo, and
Constantinople.
David Landau, editor of Coffee Talk Magazine, who describes himself as a
“Japanophile,” says that, even though we associate the Japanese with green tea, they
have regularly used coffee for years, and many consider it a fixture of life just as
Americans do. In fact, ten years ago, Landau judges, the Japanese were making better
coffee than Americans. Today, however, with our now maturing and widespread love of
specialty coffees, Americans could teach them a great deal. According to Landau, these
higher-grade coffees are available in upscale restaurants but are not yet in general use:
So far, the new wave of North American quality coffee has not made popular inroads.
[However] If you go to a chic Italian restaurant in the Akasaka or Roppongi district of
Tokyo, you will undoubtedly find an espresso that holds its own with the best of Milano
or of Seattle.22
It’s expensive, though. A non-refillable cup will cost $2 or more. In any case, outside
of fancy restaurants, which are out of reach for average Japanese, fine coffee is still
hard to find.
The All-Japan Coffee Association, the primary coffee trade group, estimates the total
value of the Japanese coffee market at about ¥1 trillion ($10 billion) per year. The
association contends that the traditional markets for instant and regular brewed coffee
are saturated, but it is optimistic about the growth of specialty coffees. Although
Japanese coffee customs are evolving, the average Japanese apartment, perhaps in part
because space is tight, doesn’t have a coffeemaker of any sort. Japanese typically make
instant coffee at home for themselves and serve the same to their guests. A person
looking for coffee brewed from exotic beans or fancy drinks such as a “double-tall café
latte” in Japan must go to a kissaten, or coffeeshop.
10
island of caffeine (2)
England: Caffeine and Empire
“Look here, steward, if this is coffee, I want tea; but if this is tea, then I wish for
coffee.”
—Cartoon in Punch at the end of the nineteenth century
The Turks holde almost the same manner of drinking of their Chaona, which they make
of certaine fruit, which is like unto the Bakelaer [laurel berry], and by the Egyptians
called Bon or Ban: they take of this fruite one pound and a half, and roast them a little
in the fire and then sieth in twenty pounds of water, till the half be consumed away: this
drinke they take every morning fasting in their chambers, out of an earthen pot, being
verie hote, as we doe here drinke aquacomposita [brandewijn] in the morning: and they
say that it strengtheneth and maketh them warme, breaketh wind, and openeth any
stopping.1
Paludanus links the two beverages in this passage with respect to the similarity of
their physiological effects, and, in the chapter in which the passage is found, introduces
both drinks to English readers, suggesting that the English, from the very start, though
unaware of caffeine, were informed that coffee and tea, which they regarded as drugs,
were united by a common agency.
Only ten years later, the English read a vivid description of the Middle Eastern
coffeehouse. William Biddulph, in his Travels of Certayne Englishmen in Africa, Asia,
etc…. Begunne in 1600 and by some of them finished—this yeere 1608 (London, 1609),
describes the use of coffee and Turkish coffeehouses at a time when England knew only
the tavern:
Their most common drinke is Coffa, which is a blacke kinde of drinke, made of a kind of
Pulse like Pease, called Coaua.... It is accounted a great curtesie amongst them to give
unto their friends when they come to visit them, a Fin-ion or Scudella of Coffa, which is
more holesome than toothsome [more healthy than it is good tasting], for it causeth
good concoction, and driveth away drowsinesse.
Some of them will also drink Bersh or Opium, which maketh them forget themselves,
and talk idely of Castles in the Ayre, as though they saw Visions and heard Revelations.
Their Coffa houses are more common than Ale-houses in England; but they use not so
much to sit in the houses, as on benches on both sides the streets, neere unto a Coffa
house, every man with his Fin-ionful; which being smoking hot, they use to put it to
their Noses & Eares, and then sup it off by leasure, being full of idle and Ale-house
talke whiles they are amongst themselves drinking it; if there be any news, it is talked of
there.2
Less than ten years after Shakespeare died, Francis Bacon (1561–1626), lord
chancellor of England and one of the fathers of empiricism, whom some suppose to
have been the true author of the Bard’s works, makes two references to coffee, which he
almost certainly never saw, much less tasted, unless it was from the hands of his
physician, Dr. William Harvey. The first Baconian reference occurs in the Historia
Vitae et Mortis (1623): “The Turkes use a kind of herb which they call caphe.” By
1624, when Bacon wrote Sylva Sylvarum (1627), he must have read a few more of the
early travelers’ accounts of Middle Eastern coffee use, phrases from which recur in his
discussion of a variety of Oriental drugs:
They have in Turkey a drink called coffa made of a berry of the same name, as black as
soot, and of a strong scent, but not aromatical;…and they take it, and sit at it in their
coffa-houses, which are like our taverns. This drink comforteth the brain and heart, and
helpeth digestion. Certainly this berry coffa, the root and leaf betel, the leaf tobacco,
and the tear of poppy (opium) of which the Turks are great takers (supposing it
expelleth all fear), do all condense the spirits, and make them strong and aleger. But it
seemeth they were taken after several manners; for coffa and opium are taken down,
tobacco but in smoke, and betel is but champed in the mouth with a little lime.3
Notice that Bacon classifies “coffa” with opium, tobacco, and betel, as a fortifying
and analeptic drug, not a beverage, and distinguishes these drugs as drugs only
according to how they are taken, whether eaten, smoked, or chewed.
Other early references by Englishmen include remarks made in the 1626
correspondence of the twenty-year-old aristocrat Sir Thomas Herbert, who traveled in
the company of Sir Dodmore Cotton, ambassador to the Persian shah. Herbert alludes to
caffeine’s effects when he reports to his friends that Persian coffee “is said to be
healthy, dispelling melancholy, drying tears, allaying anger, and producing
cheerfulness.”4 Robert Burton, quoted in an epigraph to our introduction, added a
reference to coffee in the 1632 edition of Anatomy of Melancholy, in the chapter called
“Medicines.” Burton apparently heard about coffee sometime after the publication of
the first edition in 1621, in which he does not mention the drink.
The English physicians of the day enjoyed at least a limited respect from their
countrymen,5 and their approval of the caffeinated drinks helped caffeine to make quick
progress in their homeland. The influence of these medical men is apparent in the first
printed advertisement in England for a caffeinated beverage, appearing on May 19,
1657, in the Public Adviser, which lists the maladies it was believed to cure:
In Bartholomew Lane on the backside of the Old Exchange, the drink called Coffee,
which is a very wholsom and Physical drink, having many excellent vertues… , fortifies
the heat within, helpeth Digestion, quickneth the Spirits, maketh the heart lightsome, is
good against eye-sores, Coughs, or Colds, Rhumes, Consumptions, Head-ach, Dropsie,
Gout, Scurvy, Kings Evil, and many others is to be sold both in the morning and at three
of the clock in the afternoon.6
It was observed that while he continued in Balliol College he made the drink for his
own use called Coffey, and usually drank it every morning, being the first, as the
antients of that House have informed me, that was ever drank in Oxon.8
The story of the first coffeehouse in the Western world is known through the
chronicles of the same Anthony Wood, published as Athenae Oxonienses: An Exact
History of all the Writers and Bishops who have had their Education in the most ancient
and famous University of Oxford from the Fifteenth Year of King Henry the Seventh
Dom. 1500 to the end of the Year 1690 (London, 1692), which was written with
considerable research assistance from the biographer John Aubrey. Wood was a
“suspicious, lonely, intolerant” man, more at home with old books than with his
fellows, and, as he admitted of himself, he was “a Person who delights to converse
more with the Dead, than with the Living.”9 Because there were no existing records, he
depended on personal interviews to provide the information he needed for his history.
To collect much of this oral intelligence, the reclusive, cantankerous Wood relied on the
affable Aubrey. Though Wood was much disliked by his contemporaries, today we owe
him thanks for recording some of the most authoritative early accounts of coffeehouse
life in England. Wood relates that in 1650 a Lebanese Jew arrived in Oxford in the
service of a Turk, bringing with him both a supply of coffee beans and the knowledge
of their use:
In this year a Jew by the name of Jacob opened a coffeehouse…at the Angel in the
parish of St Peter in the East…[in this establishment, coffee was]…by some who
delighted in noveltie, drank.10
A few years later, Jacob took his business to London, opening a coffeehouse in
Holborn. Confusingly enough, he may have turned over the Angel to a man named
“Jacobson,” a recent Jewish convert to Monophysite Christianity. Speaking of this latter
“outlander,” Wood reports in an entry dated 1654:
Cirques Jacobson, a Jew and a Jacobite, born in the vicinity of Lebanon, sold coffee in
a house at Oxford between Edmund Hall and Queen’s College Corner…at or neare the
Angel within the East Gate of Oxon.
In another reference, Wood speaks of Jacobson as selling both coffee and chocolate, a
bill of fare that was to become common in London over the next decade. Establishing
what must be the world’s record for café longevity, the original coffee room of Jacob’s
Angel remained in use as a restaurant for more than three hundred years.
Within a decade, coffeehouses multiplied and became the rage at Oxford. Their
success elicited opposition from some, who, like Wood, thought them inimical to rather
than productive of serious intellectual activity. In 1661, Wood declared, the
conversations of the University men of his day, instead of talk about academic matters,
consisted of “nothing but news, and the affairs of Christendome is discoursed off and
that also generally at coffeehouses.” A few years later, he blamed this cultural
deterioration on the rise of the coffeehouse:
Why doth solid and serious learning decline, and few or none follow it now in the
university? Answer: Because of coffeehouses, where they spend all their time; and in
entertainments…in common chambers whole afternoons and thence to the
coffeehouse.11
The Oxford University administrators apparently agreed with Wood and attempted,
without much success, to curtail or eliminate the coffeehouse dissipation. In 1677, an
order of the vice chancellor barred coffee vendors from opening after evening prayers
on Sundays and also from selling the drink as a carry-out “to prevent people to drink it
in their houses.” A few years after, the mayor tried to completely shut down the
coffeehouses on Sunday. Despite these reactionary efforts, in Oxford, as elsewhere,
coffee’s popularity continued to grow.
The ancient rivalry between Oxford and Cambridge seems, in respect of coffee
usage, to have been settled in Oxford’s favor, for the first coffeehouse in Cambridge is
not reported until the early 1660s. We read about it in a letter by Roger North in which
he refers to the student days of Dr. John North (1645–83), an older relation who went
on to become a master of Trinity College. While John North was an undergraduate, this
coffeehouse, owned by a man named Kirk, became a favorite haunt for academics. It
was also the publication site of The Trade of News, the first newsletter to appear as an
alternative to the “publick Gazette.12
As a result of Kirk’s success, several new coffeehouses opened in Cambridge within
a few years. Their popularity as student hangouts was noticed in the Cambridge
University Statutes, which, on November 9, 1664, ordered, “all in pupillari statu that
shall go to coffeehouses without their tutors leave shall be punished according to the
statute for the haunters of taverns and ale-houses.” However, despite these reformatory
efforts, the coffeehouse was destined to become as popular at Cambridge as it had
already become at Oxford. In 1710, by which time the institution had clearly become
well accepted, von Uffenbach, a young German visitor to Cambridge, speaks of a
coffeehouse that was a favorite of the senior faculty and of an atmosphere marked more
by collegiate congeniality than by dissipation, a place where after 3 o’clock in the
afternoon, “you meet the chief Professors and doctors who read the papers over a cup of
coffee and a pipe of tobacco, and converse on all subjects.”13
In 1655 a group of Oxford students and young Fellows persuaded Arthur Tillyard, a
local apothecary, whom Wood refers to as an “Apothecary and Great Royalist,” to
prepare and sell “coffey publickly in his House against All Soules College.” This
Oxford Coffee Club, an informal confraternity of scientists and students, was the
beginning of the Royal Society, which quickly became and remains today one of the
leading scientific societies in the world. Its academic members had something in
common with Timothy Leary, the Harvard professor who experimented with LSD, in
that they were dabbling in the use of a new and powerful drug unlike anything their
countrymen had ever seen. Surviving recorded accounts confirm that the heavily
reboiled sediment-ridden coffee of the day was not enjoyed for its taste, but was
consumed exclusively for its pharmacological benefits.
Although he admired many of its members, the dour Wood was contemptuous of the
Oxford Coffee Club itself, perhaps because he had little interest in the scientific topics
that furnished the subjects for its discussions. He evidently believed, in this case at
least, that the whole was less than the sum of its illustrious parts, because he derisively
records in his history that a club was built, “at Tillyards, where many pretended wits
would meet and deride all others.” The first participants included Hans Sloane, founder
of the British Museum, Sir Edmund Halley, the great astronomer, and Sir Isaac Newton,
originator of the calculus, celestial mechanics, and the postulates of classical physics.
The members’ avid curiosity prompted hands-on scientific investigation: Sloane,
Halley, and Newton are said to have dissected a dolphin on a table in the coffeehouse
before an amazed audience.
The Oxford Coffee Club quickly absorbed the membership of a competing science
club, which had been set up concurrently by an Oxford tutor, Peter Sthael of Strasbourg.
Christopher Wren (1632–1723), in Evelyn’s words, “the prodigious young scholar,”
who had not yet become an architect but who was already reputed a philosopher,
inventor, mathematician, and the man in whom many of the intellectual ideals of his age
were embodied, was among those who were initiated into the Oxford Coffee Club at the
time of this acquisition. As Wood explains:
After he [Sthael] had taken in another class of six, he translated himself to the house of
Arthur Tillyard, an apothecary, the next door to that of John Cross (saving one, which is
a tavern), where he continued teaching till 1662.
Perhaps energized by their peppy potations, the Oxford Coffee Club members soon
took their coffee tippling to London. They may have joined forces with existing London
groups that, from about 1645, had held weekly meetings to discuss science, or “what
hath been called the New Philosophy of Experimental Philosophy.” These were
probably the societies referred to by the chemist Sir Robert Boyle when he spoke of the
“Invisible College.” In any case, it is known that the Oxonians convened in London
sometime before 1662, for in that year they were granted a charter by Charles II as the
Royal Society of London for the Improvement of Natural Knowledge. They soon
settled into headquarters at Gresham College, taking their favorite drink at the Grecian
coffeehouse, in Devereux Court, near Temple Bar. Wren, having come to London with
the club, was soon appointed professor of astronomy at Gresham College.14
Mr. Edwards, a Turkey merchant, brought from Smyrna to London one Pasqua Rosée, 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, to sell it publicly, and they set up the first coffeehouse in London, in St.
Michael’s alley, in Cornhill. The sign was Pasqua Rosee’s own head.15
Such coffeehouse signs soon became mailing addresses for their regular customers.
For example, a writer and friend of Rosée’s addressed verses “to Pasqua Rosee, at the
Sign of his own Head and half his Body in St. Michael’s Alley, next the first CoffeeTent
in London.” From a curious book, The Character of the Coffee-House by an Eye and
Ear Witness (London, 1665), we learn that these signs, often mock-Oriental in style,
had by the date of its publication become a common sight over the doorways of public
houses throughout the city. Bryant Lillywhite, in his meticulously documented
compendium, London Coffee Houses (London, 1963), records more than fifty houses
using the Sign of the Turk’s Head. A desire to evoke the splendor of Suleiman the
Magnificent (r. 1520–86), the fourth emperor of the Turks, inspired the use of this
emblem by coffeehouse keepers both on signs and the tokens they commonly issued
because of a shortage in the supply of small coins.
The partnership between Rosée, the immigrant servant, and Bowman, the coachman
of Edwards’ son-in-law, prospered and was quickly imitated. In 1656, a barber and
tavern keeper, James Farr, sometimes given as Ffarr, Farre, or Far, converted his pub
into London’s second coffeehouse. According to Aubrey, this was the Rainbow on Fleet
Street. It was so successful that it aroused the jealousy of Farr’s taproom competitors.
On December 21, 1657, they filed the “Wardmote Inquest presentment” under the
section of Disorders and Annoys:
Item, we pr’sent James Ffarr, barber, for makinge and selling of a drink called coffee,
whereby in makeing the same, he annoyeth his neighbours by evil smells and for
keeping of ffire for the most part night and day, whereby his chimney and chambr. hath
been sett on ffire, to the great danger and affrightment of his neighbours.16
Despite this opposition, the Rainbow carried on, surviving even the Great Fire of
1666 (which destroyed the buildings in St. Michael’s alley), and, when it was razed in
1859, another Rainbow was built and still stands on the same spot today. The original
Rainbow was a favorite of Sir Henry Blount, often called “the father of the English
coffeehouse,” a great champion of coffee as a temperance drink, of whom Aubrey
writes:
Since he was [unreadable] years olde he dranke nothing but water or Coffee
I remember twenty yeares since he inveighed much against sending youths to the
Universities—quaere if his sons were there—because they learnt there to be debaucht
Drunkeness he much exclaimed against, but wenching he allowed. When Coffee first
came in he was a great upholder of it, and hath ever since been a constant frequenter of
Coffee houses, especially Mr. Farre at the Rainbowe, by Inner Temple Gate, and lately
John’s coffeehouse, at Fuller’s rents.17
Though Aubrey praises the Rainbow as an asylum of sobriety, this early London
coffeehouse was also the scene of political turbulence. On May 8,1666, Samuel Speed
(d. 1681), a stationer, bookseller, and writer headquartered at the Rainbow, was arrested
on charges of publishing and selling treasonable books.18 Although the Rainbow
continued doing business without interruption by the king’s Proclamation of 1675,
discussed below, “Farr’s Coffee-house the Rainbow near the Temple” and Blount
appear in a list of suspicious houses and persons published in 1679.19
A good idea of how coffee was being enjoyed in these Restoration coffeehouses can
be gotten from this London recipe from 1662:
In the beginning, these coffeehouses served only coffee, but soon chocolate, tea, and
sherbet were added to the bill of fare. Although some coffeehouses served ale and beer
as early as 1669, the position of the coffeehouses as bastions of temperance was not
seriously eroded until at least twenty years later. Elford the younger, around 1689, said
that “Drams and cordial waters were to be had only at coffeehouses newly set up.”
During this time, private consumption of the caffeinated beverages was beginning to
take hold, as evidenced in a 1664 advertisement for the Grecian coffeehouse, which
announced the sale of chocolate and tea and also offered free lessons in how to prepare
them.
One of the new coffeehouses was Miles’, in New Palace Yard, Westminster, at the
Sign of the Turk’s Head. In 1659, the famous Coffee Club of the Rota convened there.
The Rota was one of the first clubs in England, “a free and open Society of ingenious
gentlemen” who were happy to be free from the tyranny of Cromwell. Aubrey, Andrew
Marvell, and possibly even John Milton were members of this group, which Pepys
called simply “the Coffee club,” and which became proverbial for its literary censures
in the phrase “damn beyond the fury of the Rota.” Its founder, the political writer,
James Harrington (1611–77), held meetings nightly.21 The Rota is also famous as the
forum of the first ballot box in England, a novelty that created even more excitement
among its members than coffee did.22
For all the hubbub, the club burned itself out quickly. Pepys describes what was to be
its final meeting, in 1660: “After a small debate upon the question whether learned or
unlearned subjects are best, the club broke up very poorly, and I do not think they will
meet any more.”
After the Great Fire of 1666, many new and larger coffeehouses sprang up all over
the city. Ironically, because of their reputation as refuges for sobriety, they attracted
increasing numbers of disreputable fugitives from the taverns, who sought to remediate
their reputations by changing their venue. As a result, many of the distinctive features
of the original coffeehouses began to become effaced. Of this pejoration we shall speak
more later. However, any novel social practice or institution, should it meet with quick
acceptance by many, will incite disapproval from some. The history of coffee drinking
and coffeehouses is no exception.
In 1674, perhaps after spending too many lonely nights at home while their husbands
regaled at the coffeehouses, which, according to the custom of the English, were
forbidden to women, the wives of London, echoing the Persian Mahmud Kasnin’s
sultana’s complaint, published The Women’s Petition against Coffee, representing to
public consideration the grand inconveniences accruing to their sex from the excessive
use of the drying and enfeebling Liquor, a broadside which asserted that coffee made
men
as unfruitful as the deserts where that unhappy berry is said to be bought; that since its
coming the offspring of our mighty forefathers are on the way to disappear as if they
were monkeys and swine.
Watercolor drawing of a London coffeehouse by unknown artist who lived during the
early eighteenth centuiy. W.H.Ukers, in All about Coffee, describes it as follows: “This
little body color drawing by an unknown English artist of the reign of Queen Ann was
given by Mr. R.Y.Ames to the British Museum. It is a document of considerable interest
for students of social history. It is a naive and obviously faithful representation of the
interior of a London coffee house, with its clients seated at tables, smoking and drinking
coffee, which is poured out from a black pot by a boy waiter, while other coffee pots are
kept hot before a blazing fire. It is possible that these pots were also used for tea at this
period. An elegant lady in a fontange head dress presides at a bar under a tester on the
left, and is handing out a glass, the contents of which may be guessed from a framed
notice on the wall: ‘Heare is right Irish Usquebae.’ Of the newspapers which lie on the
tables no word but ‘April’ is legible. Pictures, perhaps for sale, adorn the wall: A
connoisseur is examining one of them by the light of a candle. The prevailing colors are
scarlet, pale blue, grey, and white, against a background of the various browns of wall,
tables, and floor. The probable date, judging by the costume, is about 1705. The
drawing resembles in several respects a small engraving of a coffee house which
appeared in 1710, but is not the original of that engraving, and represents the fashions
of a slightly earlier period. The date ‘A.S.’ (for Anno Salutis) 1668 which appears to the
left is obviously a later and spurious addition.” (Photograph courtesy of British
Museum)
In another passage they describe the plight of what we might call the “coffeehouse
widow”: “on a domestic message [errand] a husband would stop by the way to drink a
couple of cups of coffee” and be gone for hours. Echoes of their complaints are evident
in King Charles II’s proclamation banning coffeehouses the following year.
Later the same year of the women’s petition, the husbands responded with The Men’s
Answer to the Women’s Petition Against Coffee, vindicating…their liquor, from the
undeserved aspersion lately cast upon them, in their scandalous pamphlet, in which
they defended their conduct and the drink they had come to fancy. Another broadside in
the same vein, also appearing that year, and the first to feature illustrations, was A Brief
Description of the Excellent Vertues of that Sober and Wholesome Drink Called Coffee,
and the Incomparable Effects in Preventing and Curing Most Diseases Incident To
Humane Bodies, which sold “at the sign of the coffee mill and tobacco-roll in Cloath-
fair near West-Smithfield, who selleth the best Arabian coffee powder and chocolate in
cake or roll, after the Spanish fashion.”
Meanwhile, injured parties other than desolate wives were complaining against
coffee’s increased popularity. One leaflet asserted that the coffeehouse seduced men
into an idle life of dissipated conversation with people they hardly knew. Such
promising, worthy gentlemen and merchants, once trustworthy, were lured by their
coffeehouse friends into a habit that took them away from their occupations “for six or
even eight hours.”23 And, expressing even a greater alarm, a political economist,
writing on behalf of established trade interests that were being injured by the popularity
of coffee, asserted:
The growth of coffee-houses has greatly hindered the sale of oats, malt, wheat, and
other home products. Our farmers are being ruined because they cannot sell their
grain; and with them the landowners, because they can no longer collect their rents.24
To read these bills of particulars, one might think that a general economic catastrophe
had befallen the nation. All on account of the little bean and the houses in which it was
brewed and served.
By 1700, there was an abundance of coffeehouses in London, many of which catered
to a special professional, social, mercantile, or artistic clientele. Every writer on the
subject entertains a different opinion as to how many there were, but no one seems to
really know. The estimates have declined over the years. As a reference point, consider
that, at the end of the seventeenth century, Gregory King (1648–1712), an English
herald, genealogist, and engraver, calculated that the entire population of Britain was
5.5 million based on the hearth-tax returns between 1662 and 1682,25 a figure with
which modern demographers concur.26 London, at the turn of the eighteenth century,
had reached about 500,000 (almost twenty times the size of Bristol, the next-largest city
of the day) and, even more rapidly than the other English seaport cities, was expanding
as a center for business and politics. The rapid growth of the coffeehouse business is
suggested by the French writer Sylvestre Dufour, who in 1683 relates claims by
returning visitors that there were more than three thousand coffee-houses in London, a
remarkable, even preposterous figure that has been widely repeated in such respected
works as The Story of Civilization, by Will and Ariel Durant. Another testimonial
comes from John Ray (1627–1705), a London botanist, who computed in 1688 that
coffeehouses were nearly as general in London as in Cairo.27 Timbs, in his classic
Clubs and Club Life in London (1872), quotes an early edition of the National Review
to the effect that “Before 1715, the number of Coffee-houses in London was reckoned
at two thousand. Every profession, trade, class, party, had its favorite Coffee-house.”
However, Stella Margetson, in her incisive and entertaining book Leisure and Pleasure
in the Eighteenth Century (1970), writing of the age of Addison, provides a
considerably smaller estimate, stating that there were “more than 500 coffeehouses in
London alone at this time.”
Extrapolating from Dufour’s figure for London coffeehouses, we should expect
almost fifty thousand in New York City today; extrapolating even Margetson’s more
modest estimate, we should expect seventy-five hundred. For comparison, consider that,
by actual count in the spring of 1994, Phillips/Norwalk, a real estate consulting firm,
found only fifty-five coffeehouses in New York City and estimated that this number had
doubled to more than a hundred by the start of 1995. It has probably at least doubled
again since. The Specialty Coffee Association reported that in 1989 there were about
two hundred coffeehouses in the entire country, about five thousand by the start of
1995, and correctly predicted over ten thousand by the new millennium.
Thus, taking even the most conservative estimates, London around 1700 had one
coffeehouse for every thousand people, or nearly forty times the proportion of coffee-
houses than New York today, in what are the early stages of the contemporary coffee-
house revival. These exotic flowers of the East were not to thrive for long, for by 1815,
however many there may once have been, there were fewer than twelve coffeehouses
left in the entire city. In only one hundred and fifty years, the coffeehouse had come and
gone in London. But as consequence of its vogue, coffee, tea, and, to a lesser extent,
chocolate had become commonplace dietary items that were welcomed as fortifying
temperance drinks, even as far as the conservative English countryside.
Whereas, it is most apparent that the multitude of Coffee Houses of late years set up
and kept within this kingdom,… the great resort of Idle and disaffected persons …,
have produced very evil and dangerous effects; as well for that many tradesmen and
others, do herein mispend much of their time, which might and probably would be
employed in and about there Lawful Calling and Affairs; but also, for that in such
houses…diverse false, malicious and scandalous reports are devised and spread abroad
to the defamation of his Majesty’s Government and to the Disturbance of the Peace and
Quiet of the Realm; his Majesty hath thought it fit and necessary, that the said Coffee
Houses be (for the future) Put down, and supressed, and doth…strictly charge and
command all manner of persons, That they or any of them do not presume from and
after the Tenth Day of January next ensuing, to keep any Public Coffee House, or to
utter or sell by retail, in his or her or their house or houses (to be spent or consumed
within the same) any Coffee, Chocolate, Sherbett, or Tea, as they will answer the
contrary at their utmost perils…(all licenses to be revoked).
Given at our Court at Whitehall, this third and twentieth day of December, 1675, in
the seven-and-twentieth year of our reign.
Moseley, who recounted the stories of coffeehouse persecutions in the Islamic world,
saw this concern as the king’s primary motive. “However strange it may appear at this
time, Coffee had similar difficulties to encounter soon after its introduction into
England;…it having been found an encourager of social meetings, Coffee-houses were
shut up by proclamation, as seminaries of sedition.”28
Charles II was no stranger to proclamations designed to promote the welfare of his
subjects. In Isaac Disraeli’s Curiosities of Literature (London, 1848), is described how,
in 1660, the king promulgated a lengthy proclamation for the strict observance of Lent
“for the good it produces in the employment of fishermen.”29 In other proclamations he
inveighed against “the excess of gilding of coaches and chariots,” and, to help avert the
increasing congestion of the city, against new construction, which posed, he thought,
many of the same threats to fire safety, health, and public order as coffeehouses. But the
king’s true motive may have been his own protection, a point stridently voiced by those
who thought the coffeehouse ban had been designed to restrain the “licentious talking of
state and government” and according to which “speakers and hearers were made alike
punishable.”30,31
Charles II’s ruling was even shorter-lived than had been the edict of Kha’ir Beg more
than 150 years before, if it can be said to have had a life at all. A loud protest arose
from coffeehouse owners and coffee drinkers, who even by this early date constituted a
considerable economic and social constituency in the kingdom. In consequence, Charles
II backed down from his order and revoked it within eleven days, on January 8, 1676,
citing the king’s “princely consideration and royal compassion” as the basis for the
recission, although he omitted to explain why his empathy had not been operative a
week and a half before.
Coming from his pen, the prohibition of coffeehouses had been, in any case, a
particularly incongruous edict. Among others, Sir William Coventry had, from the first,
spoken out against the measure, stating that it was well known that many of the king’s
early supporters had rallied in the coffeehouses during the Commonwealth, forums
where they spoke more freely “than they dared to do in any other,” and it was justly
remarked that he might never have come to the throne but for the revolutionary fervor
of the gatherings that occurred there. Perhaps the king had never been in earnest in
promulgating the brief ban, for, as Coventry also remarks, he was one of England’s
foremost beneficiaries of coffeehouse operations. Evelyn observes that his financial
dissipation forced Charles II to rely upon the personal dissipation of his subjects for
revenue, in that the king found the taxes on tobacco, alcoholic drinks, and coffee,
chocolate, and tea indispensable to his support, and we know that the last three were
served almost exclusively in the institutions his edict would have abolished.32
One of the earliest links between tea and the London coffeehouse occurs in
connection with Garraway’s in Exchange Alley, one of the first coffeehouses in the city.
In 1660 Thomas Garraway, or “Garway,” issued the first broadside advertisement of tea
in England, an excellent original copy of which survives in the British Museum: “An
Exact Description of the Growth, Quality and Vertues of the Leaf TEA.” Writing of the
“regalia for high treatments and entertainments, presents being made thereof to princes
and grandees,” Garroway sought to capitalize on the beverage’s prestige.33 Tea was
consumed in his coffeehouse and others alongside coffee and chocolate but had not yet
attained the popularity of its fellow temperance drinks.
It was not until after the marriage of Charles II to Catherine of Braganza in 1662 that
tea became an English pastime, preoccupation, and emblem of national life, displacing
the ales, wines, and spirits that in England, no less than on the Continent, “habitually
heated or stupefied” the brains of both ladies and gentlemen, “morning, noon, and
night.”34 The infanta of Portugal, twenty-two at the time of her wedding, brought with
her the richest dowry in Europe, almost double what any king had ever received before.
Lisbon had replaced Venice as the European mart for silks, fine cottons, indigo, myrrh,
spices, such as ginger, pepper, cinnamon, and cloves, and Oriental gems and pearls, and
the Portuguese aristocrats, the most sophisticated on the Continent, had become
accustomed to such exotic luxuries. Although tea had not been among the prizes with
which the Portuguese traders had returned in their heyday, by the time of this marriage
it had nevertheless become known and popular there among the upper classes.
Among the array of treasures included in Catherine’s dowry were a large chest filled
with tea and the title to the colony of Bombay. In consequence of the first gift, green
tea, served without milk and sipped from handleless Chinese bowls of blue-andwhite
porcelain, instantly became a fad at court. It was prepared by pouring hot water directly
onto the leaves. In consequence of the second, the British East India Company acquired
a natural harbor that offered access to all the riches of India, a resource it had long
coveted and had unsuccessfully attempted to persuade Cromwell to purchase. With this
gift, Portugal’s access to the Eastern trade, which her explorers had been the first to
chart, was functionally ended, and the Dutch finally became what they had proclaimed
themselves to be, the “Lords of the Southern Seas.” This Dutch supremacy did not sit
well with Charles II. He instigated a series of wars between the Dutch and English, in
pursuit of which the English king created in his East India Company a kind of shadow
government, with the authority to make war and coin money.
Catherine’s seminal role in bringing tea to England is celebrated in the famous poem
by Edmund Waller (1606–87), written for the queen’s twenty-third birthday in 1663,
“On Tea commended by Her Majesty,” in which he pays a tribute not only to Catherine
and tea, and to the first for introducing the second, but offers an unknowing tribute to
caffeine as “the Muse’s friend.” 35
Catherine also brought sugar into general use in England, where honey had been the
most common sweetener. Sugar, used as ballast in her ship when she sailed from
Portugal, became increasingly available as the Eastern markets now opened to the
English. Along with tea, sugar was destined to become a major source of profit for the
British East India Company.
With tea’s growing popularity outside the court, new methods of preparing it
appeared. In the Book of Receipts (London, 1669), Sir Kenelm Digby (1603–65), an
English naval commander and eccentric intellectual, wrote that Philip Couplet (1623–
92), a Flemish Jesuit missionary, returned in 1659 from a journey to China and provided
Waller with a recipe for tea calling for a couple of raw egg yolks. According to Digby,
the priest, who promulgated the knowledge of tea throughout London in the 1660s, had
advised that this brew was perfect for those occasions on which you “come home very
hungry after attending business abroad, and do not feel like eating a competent meal.”36
Supposedly the eggs helped the tea to settle the stomach and the tea helped the eggs to
diffuse throughout the bloodstream.
In fashion, Catherine’s court was ever at the vanguard. Soon all of London found
reason to acquire tea services, fabricated of porcelain, silver, or pewter, depending on
the purchaser’s resources. In the coffeehouses tea had been brewed and stored in kegs
like beer and served exclusively to men without ceremony. After Catherine’s arrival and
tea’s entry into the life of the aristocracy, the expensive tea leaves were stored by
variety in compartmentalized caddies made of wood, tortoiseshell, brass, or silver,
which featured a lock to secure them from pilferage by servants. Other appurtenances
included thimble-sized china cups and a crystal bowl for blending varieties of tea.
This passion for tea and porcelain took on a life of its own in England and grew even
greater after Charles II died and Catherine returned to her homeland. It grew greater
still when William and Mary took the throne; Mary brought from Holland an
enthusiasm for both that reinforced what Catherine had begun. By the time Anne (r.
1702–14), Mary’s sister, succeeded her as queen, the practice of taking tea was a
necessary element of a fashionable life. Anne held court at a circular tea table adorned
with a silver tea service, and, in imitation of her, women all over England began buying
similar tables at which they too could sip Chinese tea from small porcelain bowls.
Aristocratic ladies paid calls upon one another, embarking on little adventures that were
enlivened by gossip to become more interesting than merely formal ceremonial
occasions: “a sip of Tea, then for a draught or two of Scandal to digest it,…till the half
hour’s past and [callers] have disburthen’d themselves of their Secrets, and take Coach
for some other place to collect new matter for Defamation.”37 Samuel Johnson, a
celebrated tea maniac, who comments elsewhere that sugar tongs were among the
“common decencies” of the tea service, describes his encounter with and triumph over
the rigors of this social event:
The lady [who] asked me for no other purpose but to make a zany of me, and set me
gabbling to a parcel of people I knew nothing of. So I had my revenge of her; for I
swallowed five and twenty cups of her tea, and did not treat her to as many words.
The Honeymoon, a print by British artist John Collett, c. 1760. The tea table and its
furnishings are carefully depicted, complete with a fashionable tea urn, symbolically
topped with a pair of lovebirds, as the newlyweds enjoy their morning tea. (Colonial
Williamsburg Foundation)
The standing social ritual of taking afternoon tea at about 5 o’clock, often including
invited guests, did not begin until the 1840s.
It was during Anne’s reign that beer was finally superseded as breakfast fare, in
England at least, by tea and toast. In 1710 the Tatler reports that in place of a breakfast
of “three rumps of beef,…tea and bread and butter…have prevailed of late years.”38
Conversation has a strange effect upon nascent ideas. He who has trained his mind by
an exchange of thoughts in conversation, becomes more subtle and pliable than when
he has nourished his spirit exclusively by reading. He speaks in more pithy sentences,
because the ear cannot, so easily as the eye, follow long periods…. Thus the middle
classes began to complete their education. Coffee houses provided them with a place
for the interchange of ideas and for the formation of public opinion. They were
(although those who frequented them were not fully conscious of the fact) brotherhoods
for the diffusion of a new humanism—and only at these foci could an author come into
contact with the thought of his generation.42
This part played by the coffeehouse is also acknowledged by Dobrée, who portrays it
as the matrix out of which a new literature and a movement to disseminate learning
arose:
each coffeehouse would seem to have provided the ephemeral literature of the day,
whether haunted by parsons, men of letters, city clerks, chairmen, footmen, or
wooltraders…. There would be some items which although as topical as could be, and
thus popular, would also, by the chance that they were written by men of genius, induct
the unsuspecting into the house of literature.43
As the prose dialogue became a favorite literary form, the new manner of down-to-
earth, middle-class directness also became fashionable. As this happened, poetry lost all
trace of its seventeenth-century courtliness, often becoming, as in Pope’s works,
philosophically and morally didactic, and so more practical, engaging, and less remote.
Prose for the first time replaced poetry as the common medium of drama; in place of
blank verse or couplets, theatergoers now heard prose exchanges judged to represent
genuine conversation more faithfully than metered language could.
The simpler, freer style had many sources. Among them were the scientific writings
of the members of the Royal Society. Another were the publications of Sir Roger
L’Estrange (1616–1704), a journalist and pamphleteer who in his magazine, The
Observator (1681–87), frequently couched his political attacks in a dialogue of
questions and answers. His prose has been well described as “colloquial, forceful, and
conversational.”44
If innumerable works exemplify the literary movement that used conversation as the
model for the forms of entertainment and instruction, Swift’s book A complete
Collection of polite and ingenuous Conversation (London, 1738), written under the
pseudo nym Simon Wagstaff, Esq., is the movement’s epitome. In this book Swift
satirizes the “stupidity, coarseness, and attempted wit of the conversation of fashionable
people.”45 In three dialogues, characters such as Lord Sparkish, Miss Notable, Lady
Smart, Tom Neverout, and others provide an animated, good-natured sampling of
truisms, catch phrases, repartees, and other conversational commonplaces that “to adorn
every kind of discourse that an assembly of English ladies and gentlemen, met together
for their mutual entertainment, can possibly want.”
The English coffeehouse as a place in which men of every degree intermingled
socially, in familiarity, was not to last long. While they endured, these coffeehouses
offered democratic resorts in which, for a penny, a man could sit in comfort drinking
coffee, and smoke, read, or converse in a manner marked by what Francis Maximillian
Mission (1650–1722), a French traveler, called “the universal liberty of speech among
the English.”46 By the 1760s and 1770s, however, the coffeehouses and chocolate
houses yielded precedence to fashionable new clubs that showcased the aristocracy and
had less and less to do with literature. One exception was a long-unnamed coffee-house
club, later called “The Literary Club,” founded in 1764, that maintained the old
traditions and provided the ideal forum for eliciting Samuel Johnson’s conversational
skill, which, in the words of Macaulay, “was nowhere so brilliant and striking as when
he was surrounded by a few friends whose abilities and knowledge enabled them, as he
once expressed it, to send back every ball that he threw.”47 Like the Rota, which had
convened at a different Turk’s Head coffeehouse more than a century before, this club,
at the Turk’s Head on Gerrard Street
The nine original members, one for each of the Muses, were, in addition to Johnson,
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Edmund Burke, Sir John Hawkins, Oliver Goldsmith, Dr. Nugent,
Mr. Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, and Mr. Chamier. It was expanded to thirtyfive, so reports
Johnson’s follower James Boswell, a young Scottish lawyer of good family, described
by Macaulay as “a bore, weak, vain, pushing, curious, garrulous,” whose conversation
made clear to all “that he could not reason, that he had no wit, no humor, no
eloquence.” One of several sources of friction between Johnson and Boswell was their
disparate drinking habits.48 Johnson stuck to tea, explaining that, though he had
consumed alcoholic drinks at the university “without being the worse for it,” he had
found himself inclined to excess and sworn off their use so as to keep his mind clear,
while Boswell was “a wine-bibber, and indeed little better than a habitual sot.” In 1791
Boswell wrote an account of the club’s history. Some say that the pursuit of the literary
profession in England became fashionable only with this club’s advent.49
This immense mixing and broadening of tastes, so concordant with the culture of the
coffeehouse and its mix of popular and academic, was nowhere better exemplified than
in the great success of Daniel Defoe and the various collaborative publications of
Addison and Steele. Of his goals, Addison said, “I shall be ambitious to have it said of
me that I brought philosophy out of the closets and libraries, schools and colleges, to
dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables and coffeehouses.”
This was the time the first true newspapers appeared, successors to odd journals such
as Dunton’s Athenian Mercury (1691– 97), in which questions about scientific,
theological, literary, and social matters were asked and answered. Defoe, a coffeehouse
habitué and admirer of Dunton’s publication, launched the Review (1704–13), a
newspaper that he published three times a week. Written almost entirely by Defoe
himself, it featured opinion pieces about political matters and initiated the tradition of
editorial journalism. In speaking of his methods of courting readers, Defoe expounds
the ideal of popularizing culture that animated Addison and Steele and many other
leaders of coffeehouse conversations. By his style, Defoe explains that, in addressing a
wide audience, he attempted to “wheedle them in (if it be allowed that expression) to the
knowledge of the world; who, rather than take more pains, would be content with their
ignorance, and search into nothing.” Because some of these early news publications
featured verse, they even served as their readers’ introduction to poetry:50
It was possibly in this way that a mass of new readers, intent in the first instance upon
the actual, the practical, the useful, came to regard verse as a natural medium, would
read at first, perhaps, Defoe’s “True Born Englishman,”…and finally to better things…
even Pope’s “Windsor Forest.”51
Joseph Addison (1672–1719) and Sir Richard Steele (1672–1729) were two towering
figures of early London journalism and coffeehouse literary life, perhaps best
remembered for the daily Spectator, which they edited together. This publication was
read by almost every literate person in London, especially the women, and was
frequently read aloud to the illiterate. In contrast with Pope, their contemporary and
rival, who addressed the elite, these famous collaborators spoke to a middleclass
audience of businessmen and professionals, the mixed company who frequented the
coffeehouses of London at the turn of the eighteenth century. The two had met at the
Charterhouse public school where for a while at least, according to Pope’s malicious
pen, they had been homosexually involved. Steele grew up to be a profligate debtor,
although he settled down somewhat after his marriage in 1707, while Addison became a
man of income and influence at court.
Addison held his own intellectual court at Button’s Coffee House (founded by his
longtime retainer Button) on Russell Street, Covent Garden, where the favored among
his followers gathered to enjoy his discourse, which, reportedly, combined “merriment
with decency and humour with politeness,” and in conversations with such luminaries
as Dryden and Pope, “reconciled wit and virtue after a long and disastrous
separation.”52 Button’s boasted a mailbox with a lionine figurehead, designed by
Hogarth in imitation of the lion of Venice, that was set up by Addison to receive mail
sent to his publication the Guardian. Meanwhile, the Spectator, which had been born on
a Button’s coffeehouse table, was in demand in other coffeehouses throughout the city.
Around 1720, the popularity of Button’s coffeehouse declined, following Addison’s
death and Steele’s retirement to Wales.
Many other coffeehouses, in which some of the more memorable conversations in
late-seventeenth- and early-eighteenth-century London undoubtedly transpired, figured
in the traditions of London letters. Will’s Coffee-House, named for its proprietor,
William Unwin, was frequented by poets and men of letters, such as Wycherley,
Addison, Pope, and Congreve. In the first issue of Steele’s periodical Tatler, April 12,
1709, Steele states that the publication would feature “all accounts of Gallantry,
Pleasure, and entertainment…under the article of White’s Chocolate House, all poetry
from Will’s, all foreign and domestic news from St. James’, and all learned articles
from the Grecian.” Will’s is especially remembered for the literary disputes, which
Dryden (1631–1700) presided over. Johnson wrote, in his Lives of the English Poets,
that Dryden had assigned to himself an “armed chair, which in the winter had a settled
and prescriptive place by the fire, was in the summer placed in the balcony…. From
there he expressed his views on men and books, surrounded by an admiring crowd who
said “ay” to all his remarks.” Will’s was the leading competitor of Button’s among the
literati.
The Bedford Coffee-House, at Covent Garden, was described by its proprietors as
“the emporium of wit, the seat of criticism and the standard of taste.” When Button’s
fell out of favor, the Bedford became the new hangout for actors and writers. Some of
its famous frequenters were: Garrick, Samuel Foote, Richard Sheridan, Hogarth,
Fielding, and William Collins. In January 1754, the premiere issue of the Connoisseur,
edited by Coleman and Thornton, stated, “This coffee-house is every night crowded
with men of parts. Almost everyone you meet is a polite scholar and a wit.”
Watercolor drawing of the Lion’s Head sign for Button’s Coffee House, London. It was
designed by Hogarth and erected by Addison in 1713. (W.H.Ukers, All about Coffee)
One half of the white of an egg—a cup of tepid water after the egg has been beat up—
Water enough to make the Coffee moist whatever it be
—Then put in the ground Coffee, (one heaped Coffee Cup to six cups of boiling water to
be after put in) mix up the Coffee with the beat up egg & tepid water
then put it into the Coffee Boiler, & add boiling water in the proportion of 6 to 1—put it
on a quick fire—& let it boil up, two or three times. Then throw it into the China or
Silver Coffee pot thro’ a Strainer
After boil & decant the Coffee grains & use the Decantia instead of hot water the next
time.54
As these instructions show, at least until the early nineteenth century the Turkish taste
for boiled and reboiled coffee, a brew that must have been strong enough to rattle a
person’s bones, was still current in England. As for the egg, it seems to have repeatedly
made its way into English coffee and tea cups, as witness Waller’s Chinese recipe for
tea.55
Tea also figured into the lives of the Romantic poets. Coleridge was familiar with at
least several varieties of tea, and he took time to complain in verse of the increase in
their cost.56 He valued “lean mutton and good Tea” at dinnertime. Tea was not entirely
indispensable at breakfast—whiskey could be made a serviceable replacement. The egg
seemed de rigueur:
all in bed—they got up—scarce any fire in; however made me a dish of Tea & I went to
bed.—Two blankets & a little fern & yet many Fleas!—Slept however till 10 next
morning
no more Tea in the House—3 Eggs beat up, 2 glasses of Whisky, sugar, & 2/3rds of a
Pint of boiling water I found an excellent Substitute.57
Lord Byron, a fellow Romantic poet, in his later years became a tea enthusiast,
writing that he “Must have recourse to the black Bohea,” and calling green tea “the
Chinese nymph of tears.”
The Tea Party, cartoon drawing by Thomas Rowlandson (1756–1827), in which the
afternoon gathering is lampooned as an excuse for romantic disportment and the
affectation of a blackamoor attendant. (Photo courtesy of Frick Art Reference Library)
Teatime in England
Peter Kalm (1715–79), a Swedish traveler, commented that in England, unlike in his
homeland, a breakfast consisting of tea and toast was enjoyed by everyone who could
afford it. Toast was an English invention that continued to surprise foreigners into the
early nineteenth century; one theory is that the English devised toast in order to help
counteract the cold, damp climate. Chocolate was sometimes substituted for tea at
breakfast, but coffee only rarely. In London, when the men left for the day, the women
often had their servants bring tea or chocolate to their bedrooms. Meanwhile, in the
countryside, the traditional breakfast of bread and cheese, still served with beer or cider,
remained common until about 1800. Tea’s ascendancy was promoted by the powerful
East India Company, which persuaded the government to lower the high duties on tea, a
move that greatly helped to bring the beverage within the reach of the average
Englishman.
By 1750, the traditional London coffeehouse was dead. No longer was it the favored
men’s forum for transacting business, reading newspapers, exchanging ideas about art,
science, and manners, and sharing the day’s gossip.58 In the hopes of increasing their
profits, coffeehouse keepers increasingly promoted sales of alcoholic drinks, taking one
of the first steps in the decline of the coffeehouse as a bastion of learned conversation
and affable good manners. Already by the time of Hogarth (1697–1764), the
coffeehouses were less centers of intellectual exchange than dens of the demimonde,
where pimps not poets commanded the floor. An illustration of this transformation is
found in Hogarth’s painting Morning (1738), depicting Tom King’s Coffee-House,
which by then had become a bordello managed by King’s widow, Moll, before later
becoming a fashionable club.59 Daniel Defoe, after visiting Shrewsbury in 1724, wrote:
I found there the most coffeehouses around the Town Hall that ever I saw in any town,
but when you come into them they are but ale houses, only they think that the name
coffeehouse gives a better air.60
a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, who has for many years diluted his meals with
only the infusion of this fascinating plant; whose kettle has scarcely time to cool; who
with tea amuses the evening, with tea solaces the midnight, and with tea welcomes the
morning.
With increasing numbers of fashionable people and social climbers of the era,
Johnson also enjoyed taking tea in what became known as the “tea gardens.” Gardens,
which were really city parks, had been popular recreational centers for Londoners at
least since the dedication of New Spring Gardens in 1661 under the reign of Charles II.
Their higher destiny, however, was not realized until 1732, when New Spring Gardens
was renamed Vauxhall Gardens and was made over into London’s first tea garden.
Vauxhall Gardens featured outdoor walks lit by thousands of lamps, band-stands,
performers, dancing, fireworks, and food and drink, including, of course, coffee, tea,
and chocolate. The success of Vauxhall Gardens was followed in 1742 by the opening
of Ranelagh Gardens in Chelsea, which, though much smaller, featured a small lake, an
Oriental-style house, and a Venetian-style villa. It also boasted a large circular room
called the “Rotunda,” with an ornate colonnade and enormous fireplace which was used
to keep things lively on cool evenings. Still a third famous tea garden was Marylebone,
frequented by Horace Walpole (1717–97) and George Frideric Handel (1685–1759).
These gardens rapidly overtook the established coffeehouses in popularity, perhaps in
large part because, unlike the coffeehouse, they were open to women as well as men.
They became great favorites of the women, and their patronage attracted the men.
Perhaps also because of the preeminence of their female clientele, these gardens
became more and more identified with “the elegant Regale,” or tea accompanied by
bread and butter, which was sometimes included in the steep price of admission.
Whether on their account, or as a result of a confluence of forces, including decreased
duties, tea became the national beverage of England contemporaneously with the
fashionableness of these gardens.
At the same time as the tea gardens were flourishing, the institution of the tea shop
was also on the rise as a women’s favorite. In 1717, Thomas Twining converted Tom’s
Coffee-House into a tea shop, which he called the Golden Lion. By the middle of the
eighteenth century, such tea shops were separated by a widening social gulf from the
increasingly disreputable coffeehouses. Later, these teahouses were to become among
the fashionable sites for afternoon tea.
In 1746, while the French were attempting to drive the English from India, Mary’s
fourteen-year-old nephew, William Tuke, began an apprenticeship to her that was to last
for six years. When he was only twenty, she died and left the business and property to
him. After a rough start, he became extremely successful and controlled the thriving
business for sixty-two years.
Tea adulteration, which had become a concern since the first shipments arrived from
China, remained significant. Among the Tuke firm’s archives is a copy of an interesting
contemporary act, 4 Geo. II cap. 14, by which it was decreed that fines would be levied
on any dealer who “shall dye, fabricate or manufacture any Sloe leaves, Liquorice
leaves, or the leaves of tea that have been used, or the leaves of any other tree, shrub or
plant, in imitation of tea, or shall mix, colour, stain or dye such leaves or tea with terra
japonica, sugar, molasses, clay, logwood, or with any other ingredients or materials
whatsoever.”67 As evidence shows that the practice was increasing rather than abating,
this edict may have served more as an advertisement of various methods of adulteration
than as a deterrent against them. As a defense against this practice, John Horniman
began selling measured amounts of tea in sealed paper packets. His company was later
acquired by the two teenage Tetley brothers, and the use of tea bags became a general
practice.68
Among the English, the ceremony and institution of afternoon tea has had the
unifying force of the old Latin Mass in the Catholic Church. After all, like the members
of the one true church, the English have long fancied themselves members of the one
truly civilized society on earth, a claim that was bolstered by the fact that wherever in
the world he was or whatever he was doing, every Englishman of any station
throughout the empire reputedly observed the afternoon break for tea. This custom is
still followed in situations Americans might find surprising. For example, international
cricket matches in England, which of themselves demand almost supernal patience, are
made still more spiritually challenging when interrupted at four o’clock for afternoon
tea.
Tea has a habit of becoming identified with the best features of a civilization that sees
itself as a refined and accomplished culture. Not only has it become so identified in
England, but the traditions of China and, as we have seen, especially of Japan, elevate
tea to the status of an emblem for their society and civilization. Afternoon tea, the
introduction of which is credited to Anna of Bedford (1788–1861), epitomizes the
meaning of tea in English life. Like the tea ceremony of Japan, the English afternoon
tea did not spring full-grown into the world, but has a long and sometimes uncertain
history.
The Tea, by American Impressionist Mary Cassatt, 1880. One of Cassatt’s most popular
paintings, it shows two young women enjoying the decorous ritual of afternoon tea.
(M.Theresa B.Hopkins Fund. Courtesy Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Reproduced with
permission. © 2000 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. All Rights Reserved)
Almost from its earliest use in English, the word “tea” referred not only to the plant
and the beverage but also to an occasion such as a reception where tea was served. The
use of the word to refer to a light evening meal or supper, with tea as the accompanying
beverage, first occurs in the eighteenth century. For example, John Wesley (1703–91),
founder of Methodism, reported in 1780 that he encountered all the important persons
of society “at breakfast and at tea,” which suggests that tea was an acknowledged repast
at that time. High tea, or “meat tea,” which is sometimes confused by Americans with
afternoon tea, is a full meal and came into existence sometime later, but exactly when is
unknown.
At the time of Anna, the duchess of Bedford, the English ate large breakfasts,
generally served with tea, snacked informally for lunch, and waited until eight in the
evening to have their dinner, after which they also drank tea. Anna was one of the many
people who experience a profound afternoon slump. To relieve what she called the
“sinking feeling,” she is reputed to have directed her servants to bring her a tray of tea,
bread and butter, and cake around four o’clock. This little repast picked her up so
effectively that she busied herself spreading the new custom among her aristocratic
friends and acquaintances.
By the 1880s, Anna’s invention had become a daily event, for which ladies,
following an afternoon carriage ride, changed their costume and donned long tea gowns
in expectation of the elegant ritual of refreshment. Meanwhile, the tea service, like its
Japanese ceremonial counterpart, continued to evolve in sophistication, elaboration, and
delicacy, including bread and butter plates and cake stands. By the turn of the twentieth
century, wealthy Englishwomen and their escorts were able to take their tea at fancy
establishments, the most famous of which was Rumpelmeyer’s. When the rage became
international, establishments named “Rumpelmeyer’s,” in imitation of the original,
were opened in Paris and elsewhere. Another Rumpelmeyer’s, in the St. Moritz on
Central Park West, New York, still stands and was ambitiously redecorated in deco style
in 1996.
However, the cost of the nonalcoholic drinks, still high, was falling, and by the end of
the first quarter of the nineteenth century these drinks became more available for home
consumption. By the 1880s tea had declined in price so far that it had become a
necessary fixture in working-class homes. Unfortunately, how much of this “tea” was
actually Camellia sinensis is doubtful. The demand for tea created a large market in
ersatz tea, actually compounded of blackthorn leaves and other substitutes, colored to
make them resemble true tea. As Daniel Pool states, “The government estimated that
for every seven pounds of authentic East India tea being sold under the monopoly, there
were four phony pounds being sold to unsuspecting buyers.” By the 1840s, the plight of
tea drinkers was further exacerbated by the operations of eight London factories,
“busily recycling used tea leaves, often dyeing them and then mixing them with new tea
for resale.”73 Perhaps eighty thousand pounds of tea were recycled annually in this way.
The reductions on duties on coffee enacted in 1808 and the subsequent renaissance in
the London coffeehouses boosted coffee sales rapidly through the 1850s. In 1815 there
were no more than a dozen coffeehouses in London. In 1821 William Lovett (1800–
1887), an English writer and cartographer, found “comparatively few” and was forced
to eat in a tavern. Further reductions in duties in 1825 helped to change this picture
dramatically. By 1830, coffee had finally become cheap enough to compete with beer.
As a result, coffeehouses began to open in greater numbers and reinstituted the custom
of providing newspapers for the enjoyment of their patrons.
Chocolate was still a minor player in the story of English beverages. Van Houten’s
invention of the modern process for making cacao was made only in 1828, and in 1830
John Cleave, a London merchant, was able to advertise chocolate as a “new beverage”
called “theobroma.” The word “cocoa” was not generally in use until after 1840.
Despite all these developments, alcoholic drinks remained the cheapest and, because
of the prevalence of the adulteration of milk and the temperance drinks, arguably the
safest refreshments available. In 1830, a pint of coffee cost about three pence, at least
twice the cost of gin or ale. In 1840, coffee cost about one and a half shillings a cup, tea
about two shillings a cup, and chocolate about four shillings a cup. In comparison, at
this same time, a decent pint of porter, a dark brown bitter beer, was only two and a half
shillings. By later Victorian times, coffee and tea had been fully integrated into the
roster of necessaries kept and used in every workingclass household. In “How Five and
Twenty Shillings Were Expended in a Week,” a poem published in an 1876
Birmingham broadside, a housewife accounts for her weekly expenditures for coffee,
tea, alcohol, and the occasional luxury of soda pop:
As the saga of caffeine in England continues today, coffee remains popular, and soft
drinks have become an important part of the new mix, but tea continues to be England’s
most important source of the drug. Consider that in America, the country of coffee
bibbers, about half of all caffeine comes from coffee; in England, more than three-
quarters of the caffeine consumed comes from tea. England and her cousins, Ireland,
Australia, and New Zealand, constitute four of the twelve top tea-consuming countries
in the world per capita, and they are the only Western nations to make the list.75
England makes, sells, serves, and consumes, imports, and exports tremendous quantities
every year.
Like the queen and Buckingham Palace, the afternoon tea, although it has declined in
importance among the natives since World War II, has become a major tourist profit
center. Establishments such as the Ritz hotel and Fortnum and Masons department store
serve afternoon tea in a sometimes hectic environment that would have seemed like a
nightmare to its originators. Nevertheless, the aristocratic patina of the afternoon tea, an
inheritance from generations of English ladies, from Queen Catherine, through Anne of
Bedford, and one reminiscent of the upper-class connections of the Urasenke tea
masters, remains to this day. An attempt to capture and trade off this patina is evident in
four-star hotels throughout the world that serve afternoon tea daily in a quiet, decorous
setting, presented by a discreet serving staff and accompanied by the finest tea service
that the establishment can afford. There, twentieth-century ladies and sometimes
gentlemen meet to inhale a breath of the atmosphere of elegance and tranquillity that
have been associated with tea over the centuries.
11
the endless simmes
America and the Twentieth Century
Do Caffeine
Captain John Smith, who founded the colony of Virginia at Jamestown in 1607,
brought the earliest firsthand knowledge of coffee to North America and is sometimes
credited with having been the first to bring the beans as well. Smith was familiar with
coffee from having traveled through Turkey. Neither the passengers of the Mayflower
in 1620 nor the first Dutch settlers of Manhattan in 1624 are recorded to have included
any tea or coffee in their cargo. It is impossible to be sure if the Dutch introduced either
into their colony of New Amsterdam or whether that distinction belongs to the British,
who succeeded them in 1664 and renamed the settlement “New York.” In any case, by
the time of the earliest printed reference to coffee drinking in America, which occurs in
New York in 1668, the drink, brewed from roasted beans, sweetened with sugar, and
spiced with cinnamon, was already in common use. Around this time coffee seems to
have displaced beer as the favorite breakfast beverage, and chocolate is recorded to
have arrived in small private shipments, primarily as a pharmaceutical. In 1683 William
Penn, who probably introduced both coffee and tea into Philadelphia, recorded in his
Accounts that he purchased coffee in New York for his year-old Pennsylvania
settlement and complained of the price per pound of eighteen shillings nine pence. At
this price, the beans required to make a cup of coffee would have cost more than a
dinner at an “ordinary,” or informal eatery, of the time. In light of this expense, it is not
surprising that, during these first days in the colonies, beer and ale remained the usual
drinks at meals other than breakfast, and both tea and coffee were pricey luxuries, with
tea the more common of the two, especially in domestic use.
Boston has an early and distinguished place in the American annals of caffeine. Even
before any American coffeehouse had opened its doors, Dorothy Jones was granted the
first known license to sell coffee in America, in Boston in 1670, though no one knows if
she was a purveyor of “coffee powder,” the name for the ground roasted beans, or of the
drink itself. It was also in Boston that the London Coffee House, the first coffeehouse in
America, opened for business. It constitutes the earliest example in America of the now
popular bookshop café, for it is reliably reported that “Benj. Harris sold books there in
1689,” the first year of its operation. Of course, the tradition of selling books in
coffeehouses dates back to at least 1657 in London, and after their invention in the
eighteenth century, newspapers were printed and sold from the coffeehouses in both
England and the New World.
In 1696 the King’s Arms, the first coffeehouse in New York, was opened near Trinity
Church by John Hutchins. Its yellow brick and wood structure, with rooftop seating and
a splendid view of the city and bay, is supposed to have been standing in Holland when
it was purchased, dismantled, and its parts transported to America, where it was
reassembled.
The first coffeehouse in Philadelphia was opened by Samuel Carpenter around 1700
on the east side of Front Street, above Walnut Street. Because it remained the only such
establishment in the city for some years, it was referred to in the old days simply as “Ye
Coffee House.” The Coffee House was apparently used as a post office, to judge from
this 1734 excerpt from Benjamin Franklin’s Pennsylvania Gazette:
All persons who are indebted to Henry Flower, late postmaster of Pennsylvania, for
Postage of Letters or otherwise, are desir’d to pay the same to him at the old Coffee
House in Philadelphia.1
It was in the Green Dragon that Revere and his co-conspirators are supposed to have
met to plan the Boston Tea Party. The story of the Stamp Act of 1765, a British tea tax
that turned Americans into some of the world’s most avid coffee drinkers, is well
known. Tariffs and taxes frequently determined which of the caffeinated beverages, if
any, were within reach of the average person, and had often been designed to do so. The
opposition to the British tax prompted the Boston Tea Party of 1773, in which the
British East India Company’s cargoes of tea were jettisoned into the harbor. From this
moment in history, coffee became the favored caffeinated drink of Americans,
indispensable at the breakfast table and the workplace ever after. The Bunch of Grapes,
another of the earliest Boston coffeehouses, was the site of the first public reading of
the Declaration of Independence.
New York’s Merchants Coffee House, at the intersection of Wall and Water streets,
hosted the Sons of Liberty on April 18, 1774, who, following the example of their
Boston compatriots, met there to plan their own blockage of British tea imports. The
next month, leaders of the revolution gathered there to draft their call for the First
Continental Congress. Neither was this coffeehouse forgotten in the aftermath of war
and victory. For in 1789, New York City’s mayor and the state’s governor threw a lavish
party there in honor of the election of George Washington.
With the opening of the Exchange coffeehouse on Exchange Street in Boston in
1808, the institution reached a kind of acme. The Exchange was modeled after Lloyd’s
of London and, like Lloyd’s, served as a center for ship brokers and mariners. Designed
by Charles Bulfinch, the most celebrated American architect of the day, it stood seven
stories high and was constructed of stone, marble, and brick, at a cost of half a million
dollars. In 1817 the Exchange hosted a banquet for James Monroe, attended by John
Adams and many other dignitaries. Probably the largest and most expensive coffee-
house ever seen in the world, before or since, the Exchange burned down in 1818.
The Exchange Coffee House, Boston. This was the largest and most costly coffeehouse
ever built. Erected in 1808, of stone, marble, and brick, it stood seven stories and cost
$500,000. It was modeled after Lloyd’s of London, and was, like Lloyd’s, a center for
patrons from the shipping business. (W.H.Ukers, All about Coffee)
The early days of American coffeehouses were times of heavy alcohol drinking both
in England and the colonies. The English “gin epidemic,” against which the College of
Physicians had warned in 1726, asserting that it was a “growing evil which was, too
often, a cause of weak, feeble, and distempered children,” continued unabated on both
sides of the Atlantic. The revolution and the decades after marked a high level of
alcohol use that exceeded any achieved in the twentieth century. In 1785, this
widespread drunkenness prompted Benjamin Rush (1735–1814), a famous physician
and reformer, to found an anti-alcohol movement, that, like many other such
movements since, began by advocating temperance and later advocated abstinence.
Rush was as fervent an advocate of the temperance beverages as he was an opponent of
the alcoholic ones. His followers, who purchased tens of thousands of copies of his
temperance booklets, helped to advance the cause of coffee, tea, and chocolate drinking
in the new nation. Yet despite his efforts, around 1800 Americans still annually
consumed about three times as much alcohol per person as they were to consume in the
1990s.
Late in the afternoon friends come out from the city and drink tea in the open air, and
tell what is happening in the world; and when the great sun sinks down upon Florence
and the daily miracle begins, they hold their breaths and look. It is not a time for talk.3
As the emergent capital of industry and the marketplace and the symbol of revolution
and the mixing of peoples, America was the country best fitted to assume leadership in
the twentieth-century saga of caffeine. However, if you ask a European visitor what, in
his opinion, is the most noteworthy feature of American cafés, he is most likely, instead
of mentioning complex ideological or social factors or the characteristic taste
complexity of the American roast, to say, “They refill your cup without charge, even
without asking!” American readers may wonder why this ordinary courtesy should be
regarded as so important. But if you consider that many European coffee lovers and
coffeehouse habitués spend hours nursing small cups that cost them twice as much as
Americans pay, and that if they want another they must pay the full price again, you can
see how, in the course of a life of café hopping, these refills could add up to a small
fortune.
Perhaps the endless refill is symbolic of America’s special affection for coffee and of
its general culture of largesse and informality as well. Coffee certainly plays the
dominant part in the story of caffeine in the United States. Ever since their defiance of
British tea taxes inspired the colonials to exchange the leaf for the bean as a patriotic
duty, Americans cultivated a taste for coffee to the extent that they became by far the
largest single national coffee importers on earth, and today they account for more than
half of world coffee imports. Coffee is overwhelmingly the source of most of the
caffeine consumed here.
The coffeehouse tradition of troubadour and balladeer, which began in the Middle
East in the early sixteenth century, continued in the English coffeehouses of the
Restoration (when these establishments became “the usual meeting-places of the roving
cavaliers, who seldom visited home but to sleep”),4 and was impressively revived in
twentieth-century America, first by the nonconformist Beat Generation of the 1950s and
then by the folk and flower child social rebels of the 1960s. The Beat Generation
movement began in San Francisco’s North Beach, Los Angeles’ Venice West, and New
York’s Greenwich Village. Its members affected an exhausted sophistication and
demoralized bohemian irony that put them in the company of a certain tradition of
coffeehouse denizens. The apolitical Beat Generation take on café culture is represented
by Beat poets Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Allen Ginsberg, who read their works at
coffeehouses such as the Coexistence Bagel Shop in San Francisco and emphasized
personal fulfillment through self-expression, nonconformity, free love, and the use of
drugs and alcohol. Their more socially minded but more drug-dependent hippie
successors are represented by folk singers such as Bob Dylan, who began performing
professionally in the coffeehouses of Greenwich Village, where he sang Woody
Guthrie’s Depression-era songs and others of his own composition to a young audience
that had ridden into adulthood on an unprecedented wave of prosperity that had not yet
crested. Dylan’s works, and those of his fellow singer-composers, such as Joan Baez
and Phil Ochs, helped shape the music of a generation and embodied the social values
of the civil rights and anti-Vietnam War movements.
What are we to make of the coffeehouse renaissance of the 1990s? Certainly it is no
flash in the pan. New York real estate prices have seemed high for generations, but they
have recently been driven still higher by the competition for space among a new
generation of coffeehouse and café proprietors. Many of the new establishments are the
progeny of the chain behemoths, such as Starbucks, Timothy’s, and Brothers Gourmet
Coffee, each of which boasts many new outlets in Manhattan. Others, like Coopers
Coffee and New World Coffee, are the offspring of smaller ventures hoping to expand
to compete with their bigger rivals. Bookstores and department stores are increasingly
including cafés under their roofs. Some traditional proprietors are benefiting from the
upswing. For decades Chock Full o’ Nuts was the ultimate coffeeshop chain, providing
cheap but good cups of coffee and fast sandwiches to busy city workers. After ten years
of relying on institutional sales and sales of coffee beans and spices, it is again turning
to the development of coffeehouses and cafés.
Coca-Cola and the Wiley Campaign: Wiley as the Kha’ir Beg of the Twentieth
Century
Dr. Harvey Washington Wiley (1844–1930), who at the height of his career enjoyed
great national celebrity and power, waged a war against Coca-Cola in the early
twentieth century that almost wrecked the company. Like Kha’ir Beg in early-sixteenth-
century Mecca, Wiley was a governmental official charged with protecting the public
welfare. As the first director of the U.S. Bureau of Chemistry, the forerunner of the
Food and Drug Administration (FDA), Wiley found nothing amusing about the blithe
and celebratory indulgence in caffeinated soft drinks that was sweeping the country.
Kha’ir Beg had been concerned about social subversion; Wiley was worried about food
adulteration and the health of the nation’s children. Each had a large measure of reason
on his side.
Wiley saw an essential difference between coffee and tea as caffeinated beverages
and Coca-Cola and its imitators. Adults were by far the primary consumers of coffee
and tea, and everyone was keenly aware that these drinks contained caffeine. Children,
however, were the greatest consumers of Coca-Cola, and most people did not associate
the drug with the drink, an association strongly discouraged and underplayed by the
company’s brilliant advertising and public relations efforts.5 The epochal conflict
between Wiley and the Coca-Cola Company, one of the nation’s most powerful
corporations, epitomizes the issues and players that have featured in the centuries-long
struggle between caffeine’s purveyors and detractors. In 1902, after twenty years of
leading the U.S. Bureau of Chemistry in a fight against the adulteration of food, Wiley
achieved national prominence when he created a “poison squad,” a group of twelve
young healthy adult volunteers who would test the safety of additives. He campaigned
against the nostrums of the patent medicine industry and became a fervent advocate of
the frequently proposed and invariably defeated efforts to enact pure food and drug
legislation. In 1906 public sympathies began to change, and the Pure Food and Drugs
Act, known then as “Dr. Wiley’s Law,” was finally passed. Wiley wasted no time
investigating Coca-Cola as a vehicle of caffeine. Headlines appeared in 1907 reading,
“Dr. Wiley Will Take Up Soda Fountain ‘Dope.’” John Candler, who was running
Coca-Cola at that time along with his brother Asa, was outraged. Candler could not
understand Wiley’s animus, asserting, “There can be no more objection to the
consumption of caffeine in the form of Coca-Cola than there is to the importation of tea
and coffee and their use.”6 The company had no sooner overcome the scandalous
rumors about cocaine, which had finally been decisively dispelled, than this new
problem over caffeine had arisen. It was to prove more difficult to resolve.
Candler and Wiley had similar backgrounds, including fundamentalist upbringings
and training in medicine and chemistry, but they took opposite positions on this central
issue. Wiley had no quarrel with caffeine as it occurred naturally in coffee or tea. His
lifelong campaign was against adulterants, in acknowledgment of which his followers
called him “a preacher of purity,” while his detractors dubbed him “a chemical
fundamentalist.” It was from this perspective of concern about adulterants or additives
that Wiley saw the caffeine question. He regarded the introduction of the drug into soft
drinks as pernicious and deceptive and potentially harmful, especially to the children.
Wiley’s positions, which he maintained for the rest of his life, are well represented in
his speech in favor of coffee, “The Advantages of Coffee as America’s National
Beverage,” and the magazine articles from the same period which he used to batter the
Coca-Cola Company.
Wiley was caught in a bind. He had tried to initiate seizures of Coca-Cola, but the
federal government refused to cooperate, arguing that caffeine had not been proved
harmful and that, furthermore, should it be so proved, coffee and tea would have to be
banned as well as Coca-Cola. However, Wiley insisted that if parents really understood
that their children were using a drug every time they drank a Coke, there would be more
sympathy on his side.
The conflict was finally joined in a federal suit, called, in the legal fashion of such
things, The United States vs. Forty Barrels and Twenty Kegs of Coca-Cola, which
opened in court on March 13, 1911, the second case do so under the new drug laws.7
The witnesses included religious fundamentalists who argued that the use of Coca Cola
led to wild parties and sexual indiscretions by coeds and induced boys to masturbatory
wakefulness. But most of the testimony was scientific in nature. Coca-Cola presented
an array of expert witnesses with impressive credentials. Unfortunately, by today’s
standards, the experiments on which their testimony relied were compromised by
inadequate protocols. That is, their conclusions tended to support the prior opinions of
the investigators regardless of the data actually gathered.
The one exception was the work of Harry Hollingworth, a young psychology
professor at Columbia University, and his wife and research assistant, Leta, who
designed and performed the first comprehensive double-blind experiments on the effect
of caffeine on human health. These studies are still being cited in journal articles today.
For example, a 1989 study published in the American Journal of Medicine referenced
the Hollingworths’ 150-page 1912 study,8 to the effect that “a total day’s caffeine dose
of 710 mg was necessary to lessen subjective sleep quality.” Their careful work
demonstrated that caffeine in modest doses improved motor performance and did not
disturb sleep. In sum, their work failed to support Wiley’s concerns; although in fairness
it must be added that in large part it also failed to address them in any significant way.
Coverage of the trial was frequently sensationalistic, with one headline reading,
“EIGHT COCA-COLAS CONTAIN ENOUGH CAFFEINE TO KILL.”9 Wiley himself
never testified, leading us to speculate that his group of young food tasters had not
experienced any harmful consequences from their exposure to the drink. The case was
finally decided on technical grounds that have little to do with caffeine and make little
sense. The District Court judge Sanford, who later was appointed to the U.S. Supreme
Court, directed a jury verdict in favor of Coca-Cola, ruling that their drink was not
mislabeled, because it did contain minute amounts of both cocaine and cola, and that,
furthermore, because caffeine had been part of the original formula or recipe for the
beverage, it could not be legally regarded as an additive. Generous in victory, Coca-
Cola voluntarily agreed never to feature any child under twelve in their advertisements,
a forbearance they relaxed only in 1986.
Cartoon of Wiley admonishing an innocent public about the evil goblins lurking unseen
in a glass of Coca-Cola. (Good Housekeeping, 1912)
Wiley did not give up. He used the publicity from the case to try to push through
provisions adding caffeine to the federal list of habit-forming and harmful substances
that must be named on product labels. Still shy of promoting the presence of caffeine in
their products, Coca-Cola successfully fought the amendments.
Meanwhile the government successfully appealed the District Court’s ruling to the
Supreme Court. It was now determined that caffeine was an added ingredient after all,
and the case was remanded to Judge Sanford for retrial on the issue of caffeine’s safety.
This time the case was settled out of court, and Coca-Cola agreed to cut the amount of
caffeine in its soft drink by half. In return there was an unwritten accord that the Bureau
of Chemistry, by then operating under new leadership, would, from then on, leave
Coca-Cola in peace.
Coca-Cola has not relied on that ancient truce to protect its interests from those
meddlers, newborn in every generation, who would use the law to control what
ostensibly free adult citizens are allowed to eat or drink. In the 1970s, largely as a
response to reformational grumblings stirred up by concern over an unsubstantiated link
between caffeine and pancreatic cancer, Coca-Cola and other purveyors of dietary
caffeine set up and funded the International Life Sciences Institute (ILSI) and its public
relations arm, the International Food Information Council (IFIC), both based in
Washington, D.C., to help forestall any efforts to regulate or ban caffeine. The heart of
these groups was their Caffeine Committee. In the last twenty years ILSI has sponsored
and IFIC has publicized dozens of reputable research projects and international
conferences of scientists to evaluate the role of caffeine in human health. Naturally, the
Caffeine Committee is careful to search out and support those researchers who see
caffeine as a relatively harmless compound and to avoid supporting those who would
like to see it removed from the market. Nevertheless, the ILSI studies are good
scientific efforts, and their results have made important contributions to the inadequate
understanding of caffeine’s pharmacological effects.
Cola as Cultural Icon
“Caffeine is caffeine,” the logician might observe, bringing to bear the powerful
insight of sovereign reason. Yet with respect to caffeine, coffee and tea, its major
natural sources, differ in at least one important way from caffeinated colas and other
caffeinated soft drinks, to which caffeine has been added: Coffee and tea are primarily
the drinks of adults, while soft drinks, as Wiley admonished, are as commonly or more
commonly consumed by children, even small children.
It is strange to say, but the twentieth century, the time of unmatched enlightenment in
education and medical science, has witnessed the first widespread acceptance of the
general and unmonitored use of a psychoactive stimulant drug by the juvenile
population. In fact, except for khat, widely used by adolescent Yemenis, we know of no
other mood-altering drug whose use anywhere by the young is or has been not only
legal, but approved and fostered by adults.
Sundblom Santa advertisement for Coca-Cola. This is one of many Sundblom paintings
that created the American icon of Santa Claus. The fat, red-nosed, red-cloaked, jolly
Coca-Cola-drinking version of Santa Clause became a defining image of American
cultural life.
Coca-Cola, the forerunner of all commercially caffeinated soft drinks, was, during its
first years, an elixir sold in pharmacies. After the turn of the century, the CocaCola
Company had to make a choice as to whether to continue promoting the drink as a
tonic, which might suggest it was a strong stimulant with a limited application, or to
advertise it as a simple beverage, suitable for everyone, including children. Some Coca-
Cola leaders had reservations about the latter strategy, partly because they were
concerned over the potential danger to children. However, the simple beverage theory
won, even though it meant sacrificing any claim, in the words of executive
correspondence, for “excellency or special merit,” and Coca-Cola faced the future as
one of many soft drinks.
With this strategy in place, it remained for the company leaders to ensure their
product a distinctive place in the arcana of common soda fountain options. One of their
central problems remained how to inveigle children into becoming lifelong Coca-Cola
drinkers while observing their pledge never to show a child under the age of twelve in
an advertisement. While the advertising of Coca-Cola is an epic tale, no single feature
stands out as clearly or has had such a broad impact on popular culture as Coca-Cola’s
most brilliant response to this apparent dilemma: the invention of the modern Santa
Claus.
Santa Claus, as we all know, is a portly, white-haired gentleman with a snowy beard,
broad smile, rosy cheeks, red nose, wearing a costume somewhat resembling bright red
flannel underwear with a broad belt and big black boots, happily busy with the delivery
of toys on snowy Christmas Eves. What many may not realize is that this image of
Santa is an American, twentieth-century invention, created by Haddon Sundblom, a
Swedish artist in the employ of Coca-Cola, and promoted relentlessly into the
apotheosis of a folk hero. Before Sundblom’s work, Santa Claus was represented in a
variety of ways. In Europe he had traditionally been a serious, even severe, tall, thin
man wearing any of the primary colors. In the popular recitation piece “A Visit from St.
Nicholas,” written by Clement Moore, a Columbia University professor, in the 1920s,
Santa became a jolly elf only a few inches high.
In their book Dream of Santa, Charles and Taylor relate how in 1931, posing his
friend Lou Prentice, a retired salesman, as his first model, Sundblom painted the first
depiction of the Santa Claus we know in America today. After Prentice’s death,
Sundblom used himself as a model, refining his creation further. The Coca-Cola
Company built a small advertising industry around Sundblom’s Coke-guzzling saint,
who was invariably aided in completing his eleemosynary labors by the lift provided by
sugar and caffeine—an advertising effort aimed, obviously, primarily at young children
who would, in the course of things, grow into succeeding generations of CocaCola
consumers. New Sundblom productions were used on billboards and in magazine
advertisements year after year, until his last two paintings were completed in 1964.
Note that if GUTS has twice the correctly stated 3.2 mg per ounce caffeine content of
Pepsi, it would have only about a third the caffeine per ounce of average coffee. The
drink may be “New Age,” but the snake oil sales tactics are as ancient as the imaginary
Andiraze Indians are supposed to have been by the author of this release.11
An interesting phenomenon is the Austrian dominance in the production and
consumption of European high-caffeine “energy drinks,” including Red Bull, Blue Sow,
Dark Dog, and Flying Horse, to name a few. Austrians, often stereotyped as slow
moving and hypochondriacal, consume more than one-third of such beverages produced
in Europe. Red Bull, for example, sold 150 million cans in 1996, more than a third in
Austria alone.
The use of colas, especially trendy high-caffeine soft drinks such as Kick, Nitro Cola,
Semtex, GUTS, Afri-Cola, and the old, original Jolt Cola, are enjoying a kind of cult
upsurge among computer programmers. The reason was explained in a recent article by
David Ramsey in MacWEEK responding to a reader’s query, “Why do programmers
drink so much cola?”12 Some of the answers to this question are discussed in chapter
16, “Thinking Over Caffeine.”
President and Mrs. Clinton gulping Coca-Cola straight from the bottle during a visit to
the Moscow Coca-Cola plant, May 1995. (Reuters/ Jim Bourg/Archive Photos)
The biggest news in the area of highly caffeinated soft drinks is the entry of the giant
Coca-Cola Company into the $4-billion-a-year “heavy citrus” soft drink market, 80
percent of which currently belongs to Mountain Dew, with the brand Surge. The specter
of Wiley’s concerns about the propriety of selling caffeinated soft drinks to young
consumers arises in connection with this highly spiked drink, because the company
intends to market this high-caffeine, high-calorie beverage to twelve- to thirtyfour-year-
olds, especially boys and men. The first television advertisement for Surge was aired
during the 1997 Super Bowl. The marketing of Surge marks the first time caffeine itself
has been brought to center stage by the manufacturer of a comestible product with a
large international market. To a certain extent, what constitutes a highcaffeine soft drink
is in the mind of the regulator. Consider that while Mountain Dew is an ordinary soft
drink in the United States, it is too supercharged with caffeine to be legally sold on the
British market.
“Café Society” could be given a broader meaning today than it had in earlier times. It
formerly designated the clique of fashionable or bohemian loungers who frequented
coffeehouses. It could now be used as a name for our society at large, the “society of the
café,” where people meet, mingle, hang out, or rendezvous with a date. The leading
situation comedies of the 1990s on network television support this view. In place of
1980s shows like Cheers, which was set in a Boston tavern, were mid-1990s shows
such as Friends, Frasier, and Seinfeld, in which the characters regularly assembled over
a cup of coffee in either a coffee shop or a café, and the show Ellen, in which a
bookstore café was a stock setting for comic routines.
Behind the scenes and on the sets, caffeine is a vital source of energy for the
production crew and actors. According to Entertainment Weekly, on Frasier the stars
were served the expensive Starbucks Espresso Roast, while the extras and crew were
offered assorted flavors from the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. On the set for Ellen, the
caffeine supply was more democratic: Foodcraft’s Finest Kona Island Blend was
available to all. Some sitcom performers think caffeine may provide too much energy
and have decided to avoid it while working. “Michael Richards, who bounced off the
walls each week on Seinfeld as Kramer, abstains from coffee drinking. Imagine what
he’d be like on espresso,” an article in Entertainment Weekly says.
The idea that caffeine could replace alcohol and that the coffeehouse could replace
the tavern is as old as the coffeehouse itself. Coffee earned the epithet “wine of Islam,”
and we have seen how in Islamic countries, forbidden alcohol, caffeine was a successful
substitute for alcohol and the coffeehouse for the tavern. Although alcohol today is
legal in every Western society, there can be little question that, at least in centers of
urban sophistication, its regular use is falling into increasing disfavor. There seems to
be a general drift away from intoxicants, especially strong ones. An attending
phenomenon is the decline of singles bars and dance clubs, in the wake of a new
squeamishness about sex. Coffeehouses seem to offer an alternative to the dissolution
and dissipation associated with the barroom, while still affording an opportunity for
people to meet and converse.
The American coffeehouse is sometimes modeled, with greater or lesser fidelity, on
the typical Italian espresso bar. There are purportedly more than two thousand such bars
in Italy, and they usually are long, narrow, functional spaces with metal countertops and
shelves stacked with liquor bottles. They usually have no stools and few tables and
chairs, and the use of the tables they have requires payment of a premium price. The
patron steps up to the bar, orders an espresso that comes served in a plain white mug,
gulps it down, and leaves. There are no coffeepots in most Italian offices, so these
places have a following that their American counterparts can only envy.
One import from these Italian shops is the barista, a man who makes a career of
running the espresso machines. Increasing numbers of tiny American establishments are
opening in nooks all over the country, sometimes called “espresso windows.” One in
Washington, D.C., occupies the ninety-six-square-foot space vacated when an elevator
was relocated. However, American “designer” espresso bars are more upscale and tend
to rely for their atmosphere on such appurtenances as cherry wood paneling and
ceramic tile floors. As one Starbucks proprietor said of his company’s cafés, “We want
our stores to be an extension of your home.”
This cartoon satirizes two aspects of the American coffeehouse craze, spearheaded by
the Starbucks outlets nationwide: These coffeehouses seek to provide a comfortable
home away from home, and they are turning up everywhere, even where we might least
have expected them. (David Sipress, 1995)
Gender: Most studies find either no difference in consumption levels between men
and women, or they find a very small difference, with one or the other sex found to
consume more. Of course many such studies beg the question of exposure levels to
caffeine, because women on average weigh less than men, and exposure is a
function of body weight. Another confounding factor is that, overall, women
metabolize caffeine faster than men.
Abstainers: At least 90 percent of people surveyed consistently acknowledge they
use coffee or tea. The prevalence of caffeine use is even higher, if soft drinks and
other dietary sources are considered. One Australian study conducted in 1983
found that only about 3 percent of the population were actual caffeine abstainers.2
Another recent study found that 95 percent of Finns and Norwegians say they
drink at least one cup of coffee a day. Although no one can say exactly, it is likely
that 90 percent of people worldwide are regular, most often daily, caffeine users.
Less than 5 percent are abstainers, in the respect that they never consume caffeine
from any source. This leaves about 5 percent in the category of occasional users.
Generations: Over the centuries attitudes toward different beverages have varied
widely from one era to the next. David Musto, a Yale professor, has identified a
seventy-year cycle of oscillations in attitudes toward the consumption of alcohol, a
cycle that has been especially apparent in the United States. Most people are
myopically oblivious to this long-term pattern.3 According to Musto, America in
the late 1990s was about twenty years into its third era of temperance. Alcohol
consumption, which peaked around 1980, has demonstrated more than a 15
percent decline, the biggest drop coming in distilled spirits and lesser decreases in
wine and beer. Obviously, we should expect the cyclic use of the major temperance
beverages, including caffeinated drinks, to be the inverse of the cyclic use of
alcohol. And in fact, caffeine use has exploded in the last few decades, even
though industry data indicate that there was a progressive decrease in coffee as a
source between 1962 and 1982. However, more recently, especially in specialty
coffee consumption, usage is once again increasing, while the decline in alcohol
consumption continues.
1790 5.8
1830 7.1
1840 3.1
1860 2.1
1890 2.1
1900 2.1
1920 0.9
1940 1.56
1980 2.76
Adapted from David Musto, “Alcohol and American History,” Scientific American,
April 1996.
Today in the United States more than 80 percent of adults consume caffeine on a
daily basis. The average daily consumption among all adults is approximately 200 mg
per day and among caffeine consumers is approximately 280 mg. Applying the
standards and definitions discussed in our section on caffeine dependence, this would
mean 75 million people fit the criteria for moderate caffeine dependence.
The average daily consumption of coffee in many other countries is considerably
higher than in the United States. The highest coffee consuming-countries, in descending
order, are: Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany,
Austria, Switzerland, and France. All have higher levels than the United States, with
Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Norway boasting consumption levels from two to three
times as great.4
The United States’ consumption of coffee declined by nearly 40 percent between
1962, the year in which the highest levels were reached, and 1982, with most of the
decline occurring in the first ten years of this period. Because the average number of
cups per coffee drinker declined only 20 percent, we know that many people quit
drinking coffee entirely. The decline of caffeine intake from coffee was even greater, for
in the same period the consumption of decaffeinated coffee as a percentage of total
coffee consumption increased from 3 percent to 20 percent. During these twenty years,
however, consumption of soft drinks more than doubled, and because all five topselling
soft drinks contain caffeine, there seems to have been not so much a decline in total
caffeine intake as a partial switch from coffee to soda as the vehicle of ingestion.
Baby Boomers and Caffeine
In 1996, a magazine called New Choices conducted a national survey of the first baby
boomers, born in 1946, and just turning fifty. They found that about two-thirds are
happy with their sex lives, and the same percentage are unhappy about their career
choices. When speaking of drugs, of those expressing a preference, the largest number,
27 percent, cited exercise [sic], and the next largest, 25 percent, cited caffeine as their
drug of choice.5
Why should caffeine have topped the long list of recreational drugs once popular
with this group? For those of the “flower power” generation, now at the height of
maturity, whose tastes were jaded by enveloping euphorics and timber-rattling
stimulants, common caffeine has reemerged as the drug of choice. No doubt it was
forgotten in the wild drug party that started in Haight-Ashbury in the mid- 1960s and
eventually made its way around the world and back. To those who binged on
methamphetamine, cocaine, heroin, LSD, Quaaludes, or any of a long list of agents
used for excitement in the wake of Timothy Leary and acid rock, caffeine did not even
rise to the level of notice as a psychoactive substance. After all, it was not only legal
and a fixture of the straight, business-driven world, but even the most timid
grandmother would take it in her tea.
Thirty years later, the terrible hangover brought on by all that overindulgence has
finally lifted. Now people are looking for a different high, one that is enjoyable but safe,
one that not only does not destroy a productive life but can actually improve it. That’s
why all eyes have turned back to caffeine. As a drug, caffeine works: It wakes you up,
improves your cognitive powers, increases your energy output—and yet it is, for all
anybody can tell to date, remarkably safe for healthy adults to use in normal quantities.
Too Much coffee Man & Klix, the Happy Computer, cartoon strip by Shannon Wheeler,
from a series dedicated to lampooning the effects produced by excessive coffee use. In
this cartoon, the user gains confidence in using a computer after drinking one cup of
coffee, but ends up suffering from the effects of working for four days straight,
presumably as a result of the excessive use of caffeine. (By permission of the artist)
“Caffeine—After 3,500 Years: Still the Most Popular Drug,” cartoon by Robert
Therrien, Jr., a.k.a., BADBOB. In this fanciful version of caffeine history, hieroglyphs
depict Egyptians attending an oversized espresso machine, even though, of course,
there is no evidence that either the Egyptians or any other people knew of coffee or
caffeine as early as 3,500 years ago. (By permission of the artist)
Carbonated Coffee
North American Coffee Partnership, the joint venture formed in August 1995 by
Pepsi-Cola and Starbucks, test marketed a new product: Mazagran, a lightly carbonated
beverage made with Starbucks coffee. Touted as a new version of a 150year-old
beverage supposedly once popular with the French Foreign Legion, it will be sold at
Starbucks fountains and in bottles in grocery stores.
Another similar product, also by PepsiCo, hit U.S. grocers’ shelves in mid-1996:
Pepsi-Kona, a coffee-flavored carbonated cola drink, so soda and coffee lovers can
finally have it both ways. A new mixed drink called a “Turbo Coke” seems in line with
this product: a tall glass of Coke with ice and a shot of espresso.
According to the Arabian tradition, the civet-cat brought the coffee-bean to the
mountains of the Arusi and the Itta-Gallas, where it grew and was long cultivated, till
an enterprising merchant carried the coffee-plant five hundred years ago, to Arabia,
where it soon became acclimatized.6
Supposedly, the beans emerge still covered with their original mucilage or silver skin.
In 1740 Spanish Jesuits brought coffee seedlings from Java to the Philippines, where
the plant proliferated dramatically, largely as a result of the dietary preferences of the
native civet cat, which, like the African civet cat spoken of by Krapf, enjoyed the fruit
and spread the indigestible seeds in its droppings.7
The animal in question is one of the three species of palm civets in the genus
Paradoxurus, the family Viverridae. Its relatives include mongooses, civets, and genets.
Two of the three species are confined to India and Sri Lanka, while the third,
Paradoxurus hermaphroditus, is found throughout Southeast Asia, the East Indies, the
Philippines, and Africa. Other names for the animal include “musang,” and “toddy cat.”
Despite some of its many aliases, however, Paradoxurus is not a true cat. These cute
animals, with catlike faces, have long gray-brown fur with dorsal stripes and lateral
spots and a long tail. They live five or more years, are about one and a half to two and a
half feet long, and weigh six or seven pounds. Although they feed on small animals
they also eat bulbs, nuts, and fruits, which is how they enter the history of coffee.
Other animals play a part in spreading coffee as well. In 1922, William Ukers
reported that in some regions of India, birds and monkeys enjoy eating the ripe coffee
berries because of their tasty pulp. The beans, however, pass undigested through their
alimentary canals. Gathered by the natives, these beans are recycled to make so-called
monkey coffee.8 In Coffee Botany, Cultivation, and Utilization (1961), Frederick L.
Wellman offers an account of varied relationships between animals and the proliferation
of the coffee plant, giving birds the credit of spreading coffee within Africa, from
Ethiopia into the Sudan, and the civet cat for doing so in Hawaii.9
In 1994, after a thirteen-year search, Mark Montanous, while in Europe, finally found
a Dutch coffee broker who had what he claimed were the raw, green Indonesian kopi
luak beans. Montanous bought 70 pounds for $7,000 and now is retailing it virtually at
cost at $105 a pound, making it easily the most expensive coffee in the world.
Is it worth it? We are told that this coffee is not to everyone’s taste. Even though
some people claim it has a delightful heavy, musty, caramel taste and aroma, others find
it strong and repellent. So far, Montanous has sold about 45 pounds, with a few repeat
(apparently satisfied) customers.
Guarana:
This is a plant that grows in the northern and western portions of Brazil. Reportedly, its
seeds have been used for centuries by the natives of the Amazon for added energy and
mental alertness.
Mahuang:
Imported from China, this plant, according to the Chinese, reduces the desire for food,
metabolizes fat, increases energy and mental alertness.
Another ad, this time for guarana capsules, is more accurate, declaring, “Guarana is a
caffeine-rich extract that, in addition to 2–3 times the caffeine found in coffee, also
contains xanthine compounds such as theobromine and theophylline. Made into a
popular Brazilian cola drink, guarana is consumed for energy and stimulation. Guarana
has also been used traditionally as an anti-diuretic, a nerve tonic, to reduce hunger, and
to relieve headaches, migraines and PMS symptoms.”
Before every show (back in the good old days) we would share a bag (i.e. You know the
bags they offer in the bulk section of Safeway?) of espresso beans. I can only say that
each show back then was really intense…every time.14
Is the coffee and tea party really nearly over? Some people, evidently disgusted with
the caffeine craze sweeping the world at the turn of the millennium, have lined up to
prophesy the end of the excitement. Several books have appeared in the last few years
cautioning people about the supposed dangers of caffeine consumption. One of their
number is Caffeine Blues: Wake up to the Hidden Dangers of America’s #1 Drug, by
Stephen A.Cherniske (Warner Books, 1998). The publisher states that this book, which
presents a daunting panoply of dire warnings about caffeine reminiscent of Simon Pauli,
“exposes the harmful side effects of caffeine and gives readers a step-by-step program
to reduce intake, boost energy, create a new vibrant life and recognize the dangers.”
Another is Danger: Caffeine, by Patra M.Sevastiade (Rosen Publishing Group, 1998), a
book intended for children five to nine that “explains how caffeine affects the body and
the harm overuse of it can cause.” Still another is Addiction-Free—Naturally:
Liberating Yourself from Tobacco, Caffeine, Sugar, Alcohol, Prescription Drugs,
Cocaine, and Narcotics, by Brigette Mars (Inner Traditions International, 2000), which,
as the title makes obvious, puts caffeine in some pretty nasty company. A more unusual
contribution to cautionary caffeine literature is Brief Epidemiology of Crime: With
Particular Reference to the Relationship between Caffeine and Alcohol Use and Crime,
by Peter D.Hay (Peter D.Hay, 1999).
Cartoons by Robert Thierrien, Jr., a.k.a. BADBOB. These energetic images, among a
series by the artist celebrating caffeine’s place in contemporary culture, have been
widely reproduced on T-shirts and coffee mugs. (By permission of the artist)
Organizations have arisen to help people avoid what their members regard as the
evils of caffeine. Among them are Caffeine Anonymous, a twelve-step program of
caffeine addicts who gather weekly at a church to support each other’s efforts to quit.
More radical are the efforts of Caffeine Prevention Plus, a nonprofit organization
“dedicated to caffeine and coffee prevention.” A consultant for this redoubtable group
recently wrote an article advocating that coffee be made an illegal substance because of
the harm it poses for coffee drinkers and society. In his scientismic polemic to outlaw
caffeine, he explains that the putative therapeutic benefits of caffeine are figments of
the “coffee lobby” and that there are other compounds available to do anything caffeine
can do and do it better. In addition, according to this group, caffeine is solely
responsible for more than 25 percent of British bad business decisions, including the
Barings bank disaster, and is believed to be involved in aggravating more than 50
percent of all marital disputes in the United States.
PART 4
After the fall of Rome, the sciences originated by the Greeks lay quiescent for more
than a millennium, eventually falling under the spell of such alchemical adepts as
Albertus Magnus (1193–1280) and Philippus Aureolus Paracelsus (1490–1541). These
sciences were quickened in Restoration England by the members of one of the oldest
and most important coffee klatches in history, the Royal Society. Still one of the leading
scientific societies in the world, the Royal Society began in 1655 as the Oxford Coffee
Club, an informal confraternity of scientists and students who, as we said earlier,
convened in the house of Arthur Tillyard after prevailing upon him to prepare and serve
the novel and exotic drink. To appreciate the audaciousness of the club members, we
must remember that coffee was then regarded as a strange and powerful drug from a
remote land, unlike anything that had ever been seen in England. It was not, at first,
enjoyed for its taste, as it was brewed in a way that most found bitter, murky, and
unpleasant, but was consumed exclusively for its stimulating and medicinal properties.
The members of the Oxford Coffee Club took their coffee tippling to London sometime
before 1662, the year they were granted a charter by Charles II as the Royal Society of
London for the Improvement of Natural Knowledge.
Historical reflection on changing fashions in drug use might justify the saying, “By
their drugs you shall know them.” Members of the Sons of Hermes, the leading
alchemical society of the Middle Ages, experimented with plants and herbs, almost
certainly including the Solanaceæ family, commonly known as nightshades, which
comprises thorn apple, belladonna, madragrora, and henbane.1 These plants contain the
hallucinogenics atropine, scopolamine, and hyoscyamine, which were used historically
as intoxicants and poisons and more recently as “truth serums.” These drugs often
produce visions, characteristically inducing three-dimensional psychotic delusions,
often populated with vividly real people, fabulous animals, or otherworldly beings.
Because of atropine’s ability to bring about a transporting delirium, witches rubbed an
atropine-laced ointment into their skin to induce visions of flying. Obviously, the
Solanaceæ drugs are as well-suited to the fabulous, symbolic, magical, transformational
doctrines of alchemy as caffeine is to the rational, verifiable, sensibly grounded, and
literal endeavors of modern science.
It may therefore not be entirely adventitious that the thousand-year lapse of European
science in the Middle Ages, during which naturalism commingled promiscuously with
magic, ended at the same time that the first coffeehouses opened in England and that
coffee, fresh from the Near East, became suddenly popular with the intellectual and
social avant-garde in Oxford and London. The aristocratic Anglo-Irish Robert Boyle
(1627–91), the father of modern chemistry, regarded in his time as the leading scientist
in England, was a founding member of the original Oxford Coffee Club. Credited with
drawing the first clear line between alchemy and chemistry, Boyle formulated the
precursor to the modern theory of the elements, achieving the first significant advance
in chemical theory in more than two thousand years.2 Within a few years after the
English craze for caffeine began, the modern revolutions, not only in chemistry, but in
physics and mathematics as well, were well under way. Twentieth-century scientific
studies suggest that caffeine can increase vigilance, improve performance, especially of
repetitive or boring tasks such as laboratory research, and increase stamina for both
mental and physical work. In consequence of its avid use by the most creative scientists
of the second half of the seventeenth century, caffeine may well have expedited the
inauguration of both modern chemistry and physics and, in this sense, have been the
only drug in history with some responsibility for stimulating the formulation of the
theoretical foundations of its own discovery.
1,3,7-Trimethyl-2, 6-dioxopurine
7-Methyltheophylline
Methyltheobromine
alcohol cigarettes
Asian Caucasian*
man woman
newborn child
oral contraceptives
liver damage
pregnancy
Note: A Japanese non-smoking man who was drinking alcohol with his coffee would
probably feel the effects of caffeine about five times longer than would an
Englishwoman who smoked cigarettes but did not drink or use oral contraceptives. If
the man had liver damage, the difference could be even more dramatic. Remember this
variability the next time you hear apparently contradictory reports from your friends
about what caffeine does to them.
*Richard M.Gilbert, Caffeine: The Most Popular Stimulant, p. 62.
Caffeine and most other chemical compounds you ingest ultimately make their way
to the liver, the body’s central blood purification factory. The bloodstream carries
caffeine from the stomach and intestines, throughout the body, and, by means of the
hepatic portal vein, through the liver. There it is metabolized, or converted into
secondary products, called “metabolites,” which are finally excreted in the urine. More
than 98 percent of the caffeine you consume is converted by the body in this way,
leaving the remainder to pass through your system unchanged.
Caffeine’s biotransformation is complex, producing more than a dozen different
metabolites. The study of these transformations in human beings has been impeded by
the fact that the metabolic routes for caffeine demonstrate a remarkable variety among
different species. This means that experiments with rats, mice, monkeys, and rabbits,
for example, are of limited value in advancing our knowledge of what happens to
caffeine in human beings. However, over the past two decades, sophisticated techniques
for identifying the components of the caffeine molecule, distinguishing them from very
similar compounds, and tracing the fate of caffeine in the body have revealed the human
metabolic tree in considerable detail.
These extensive studies disclose that the liver accomplishes the biotransformation of
caffeine in two primary ways:
The first of these mechanisms predominates, with the result that the principal
metabol ites of caffeine found in the bloodstream are the dimethylxanthines:
paraxanthine, into which more than 70 percent of the caffeine is converted,
theophylline, and theobromine. Paraxanthine is thus a sort of second incarnation of
caffeine.
Although there are multiple alternative paths by which caffeine is metabolized in
human beings, all of these pathways end in one or another uric acid derivative, which is
then excreted in the urine. Complicating this picture is the fact that the profile of urinary
metabolites, that is, the relative mix of the final metabolic products, exhibits marked
variation among individuals, with differences observed as between children and adults,
smokers and non-smokers, women who are taking oral contraceptives and those who
are not.
An additional complicating factor is the fact that chemical metabolism can present
cybernetic dynamics, which in this case means that the very process of metabolizing a
methylxanthine can alter the speed at which additional amounts of methylxanthines will
be metabolized. For example, it has been shown that the methylxanthine theobromine, a
constituent of cacao and one of the primary metabolites of caffeine, is a metabolic
inhibitor of theobromine itself, of theophylline, and possibly of caffeine as well. Studies
reveal that daily intake of theobromine decreases the capacity to eliminate
methylxanthines. This could mean, for example, that if you regularly eat chocolate,
coffee or tea may keep you awake longer. Conversely, subjects on a methylxanthine-
free diet for two weeks increased their capacity to eliminate theobromine. The fact that
asthma patients being treated with theophylline need careful monitoring and frequent
dosage adjustments is probably a result of these cybernetically governed variations in
methylxanthine metabolism.
One of the challenges faced by researchers attempting to analyze any chemical
compound’s health effects is the fact that a drug’s metabolites often have more
significant effects than did the original drug itself. Scientists are still unsure as to what
degree and in what respects caffeine’s metabolites are responsible for its effects,
although most would agree that its methylxanthine products contribute to the physical
and mental stimulation that is a hallmark of caffeine consumption.
Caffeine gets in and out of your body quickly. The same high solubility in water that
facilitates its distribution throughout the body also expedites its clearance from the
body. Because caffeine passes through the tissues so completely, it does not accumulate
in any body organs. Because it is not readily soluble in fat, it cannot accumulate in body
fat, where it might otherwise have been retained for weeks or even months, as are
certain other psychotropic drugs such as marijuana. Because caffeine also demonstrates
a relatively low level of binding to plasma proteins, its metabolism is not prolonged by
the sequential process by which, in chemicals that are highly bound, additional amounts
dissociate from the protein as the unbound fraction is excreted or metabolized,
extending the active life of the drug in the body.
The degree to which a drug lingers in the body, its kinetic profile, is quantified by
what physiologists call its “half-life,” the length of time needed for the body to
eliminate one-half of any given amount of a chemical substance. For most animal
species, including human beings, the mean elimination half-life of caffeine is from two
to four hours, which means that more than 90 percent has been removed from the body
in about twelve hours. However, the observed half-life can be influenced by several
factors and therefore demonstrates considerable individual and group variation. For
example, women metabolize caffeine about 25 percent faster than men. But if women
are using oral contraceptives, their rate of caffeine metabolism is dramatically slowed.
In addition, pregnancy results in a considerable increase the half-life with a concomitant
increase in exposure by the fetus.4 Because caffeine is metabolized in the liver, hepatic
impairment will also slow caffeine’s metabolism. Newborn infants are dramatically less
capable of metabolizing caffeine than are adults, probably because their livers are
unable to produce the requisite enzymes, an incapacity that extends the drug’s half-life
in them to eighty-five hours. Some studies suggest that many other factors, including
the use of other drugs, can raise or lower the metabolic rate from the mean value. For
example, cigarette smoking doubles the rate at which caffeine is eliminated, which
means that smokers can drink more coffee and feel it less than nonsmokers. Drinking
alcohol slows the elimination rate, which means that drinkers feel the caffeine in their
coffee more than non-drinkers.5 Research has even suggested that the rate of caffeine
metabolism varies among the races, based on findings that Asians metabolize the drug
more slowly than Caucasians.6
Term infants 82
3- to 4.5-month-olds 14.4
These metabolic findings help us to understand the strong social association between
cigarettes and coffee. We picture the writer at his word processor, drinking big mugs of
strong coffee as he puffs away at an endless sequence of smokes. We also imagine the
typical coffeehouse habitué, gesticulating in a cloud of smoke as he converses with his
fellow coffee drinkers. These images make sense. Heavy smokers, to achieve the same
stimulating effects, would have to drink far more coffee than non-smokers. See part 5 of
this book, “Caffeine and Health,” for a full discussion of how heavy caffeine use may
delay or prevent some of the serious lung complications that can result from smoking,
which would constitute an additional strong bond between the two.
The metabolic profile of caffeine may also help to account for the common attempt to
use caffeine to combat the effects of alcohol. It is true that the degree of alcohol
intoxication is a function of the alcohol level in the blood, a level that cannot be altered
by caffeine. However, caffeine, because it is felt more persistently by those who are
drinking alcohol, may in fact have a more sustained stimulating effect and in this way
help the drinker dissipate the grogginess that is associated with excess boozing.7
The French essayist Michel de Montaigne (1533–92) did not trust physicians because
he thought that each person, knowing himself best, is the best judge of the conditions
conducive to his own health. Today nearly everyone agrees that good medical doctors
and their expert care are indispensable for well-being. Nevertheless, even our quick
review of the variability and complexity of caffeine’s metabolism suggests that,
whatever the general profile of its behavioral and physical effects, each person must
consider his own personal and medical history in order to understand how caffeine
might affect him.
What Is a Cup?
A figure that is passed around, from one research paper or newspaper article to the
next, is that a cup of coffee contains an average of 100 mg of caffeine. This sounds
simple and straightforward and suggests that it is fairly easy to determine how much
caffeine we are taking in when we have a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, when we
scrutinize this figure, many uncertainties arise.
One problem is, exactly how much liquid is in a “cup of coffee”? A big mug or large
paper cup, filled to the brim, may be 10 ounces or even 12 ounces or more. If not filled
to the brim, a small cup may hold as little as 4 ounces. Amounts often quoted for cups
are 5 ounces or 6 ounces, and the cup itself as a standard liquid measure is 8 ounces. So
when we speak of a cup, we may be speaking of 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12 ounces or more.
Another problem is, how much caffeine is in the coffee, ounce for ounce? This number
will vary widely with such variables as method of preparation, type of coffee bean,
method of roasting, and amount of coffee used.
The result of multiplying these two uncertainties produces a remarkably wide range
for what might constitute the “correct” value for the amount of caffeine in a “cup” of
coffee. A small cup of weak instant coffee might have as little as 50 mg. A large cup of
infused coffee steeped for a long time with a lot of robusta beans might have 350 mg.
Admittedly these are extreme values, but we believe that doses in the range of 100 to
250 mg are common. According to the Food and Drug Administration, a 5-ounce cup of
coffee contains 40 to 180 mg of caffeine. Similar problems beset an evaluation of how
much caffeine is found in a cup of tea.
Studies profiling the caffeine content of coffee and tea as actually served to restaurant
customers or consumed at home are rare. One 1988 Canadian study, published in Food
and Chemical Toxicology,12 surveyed almost seventy “preparation sites,” and found
considerable differences from place to place and even between one day and the next at
the same place. A review of the caffeine content of coffee brewed in almost sixty homes
showed levels ranging from about 20 mg to nearly 150 mg per cup, more than a
sevenfold variation. Coffee tested in eleven restaurants exhibited similar differences.
Further, “decaf” served at restaurants sometimes had substantial amounts of caffeine.
Finally, there were large variations in the caffeine content among the seventeen brands
of instant coffee, even when prepared under controlled laboratory conditions.
The tests of tea showed a comparable variation in caffeine potency, although, of
course, the average levels for tea were lower than those for coffee. According to the
Republic of Tea Home Page, the following three factors determine how much caffeine
is present in a cup of tea:
The longer the leaves have been fermented, the greater their caffeine content.
Green tea, which is unfermented, has the least caffeine; oolong, which is partially
fermented, has about 50 percent more; and black tea, which is fully fermented, has
three times as much.
The longer tea is brewed, the more caffeine is present in the final drink. A cup of
black tea infused for three minutes has 20 to 40 mg, while black tea infused for
four minutes has 40 to 100 mg.13
Finally, the caffeine in leaf powder, such as is found in tea bags, is more readily
dissolved in water, and, all other factors being equal, it will have almost twice the
caffeine as higher-quality full-leaf tea.14
Dunkin’ Donuts,
12.6 oz 275 147.6
regular
Cooper’s,
9.9 oz 146 99.6
medium
Dalton’s Coffee,
8.9 oz 148 99.7
regular
Similar discrepancies have been observed among the decaffeinated coffees served at
leading chains across the country. In 1995, Self magazine submitted nine samples of
decaffeinated coffee for analysis to Southern Testing & Research Laboratories in North
Carolina. Most decaffeinated coffees had less than 10 mg per 6-ounce cup, but
Starbucks had more than twice that much. As you review this chart, which also includes
data from other similar studies, remember that most cups actually served contain at least
8 ounces of fluid. Results demonstrating such wide variability help to explain how even
one cup of coffee sometimes seems to send you up like rocket, while other times a few
cups won’t even start your engines.
Starbucks decaffeinated 25
7-Eleven decaffeinated 4
Cooper’s decaffeinated 4
Dalton’s decaffeinated 2
Sanka 1.5
Myths and misconceptions about caffeine content abound. The amount of caffeine
that ends up in your cup of coffee is in part a function of the amount of caffeine
contained in the beans you start with. In Appendix B is a list of the caffeine content of
various beans as a percentage of total weight.15 In general, the cheaper robusta beans
contain almost double the caffeine found in the more expensive arabica beans. Although
the two have an otherwise similar compositional profile of such components as
minerals, proteins, and carbohydrates, arabica beans also contain significantly more
lipids. Tea’s variations in caffeine content depend primarily on the age of the leaves and
on how the tea leaves have been cured. The caffeine content by percentage of weight of
sen-cha, or green tea, is 2.8 percent; of ma-cha, or green powdered tea, is 4.6 percent;
and of ban-cha, or coarse tea, is 2 percent.16 Note that ma-cha, the tea most commonly
used in the Japanese tea ceremony, which is green tea made from the smallest leaves of
the just budding plant, has the highest concentrations of caffeine by weight of any tea,
or of any plant source, for that matter. No caffeine is found in brews from herb and mint
teas, as would be expected, since the plants from which they are made do not contain
caffeine.
Maté also is an important source of caffeine, but it is even more difficult to estimate
how much caffeine is in a cup of maté than it is to do so for a cup of coffee or tea. In
addition to Ilex paraguariensis, as many as sixty varieties of plants are used in making
the drink. To make matters even more confusing, the caffeine content of maté leaves
varies widely according to their age at the time of harvesting. Young maté leaves have
at least 2 percent caffeine of their dry weight, while adult leaves, those more than a year
old, have about 1.5 percent, and old leaves, those more than two years old, have only
about .7 percent.
Guarana is a major source of caffeine for millions of South Americans and is also
widely sold in Europe and the United States in herbal elixirs and powders in health food
stores. Typical of these products is “Magic Power,” sold in two forms and which has the
following ingredients (assuming 5 percent caffeine by weight in seeds as stated in their
literature):
In Brazil, where guarana carbonated drinks are widely available, some consumers
claim the effects are somewhat different from coffee’s, because guarana doesn’t
produce jitters. This difference may be their imagination, or it may, as we have seen in
other cases of natural drugs, be the result of the chemical complexity of guarana or the
fact that it contains other active alkaloids in addition to caffeine.
The amount of caffeine found in chocolate and other cacao products is relatively
small. A 1.58-ounce milk chocolate Hershey bar has 12 mg, and an average 6-ounce
cup of chocolate prepared from a mix has 5 mg. Appendix B lists the caffeine content of
other chocolate products.17
So how much caffeine is in a cup of coffee? Most cups of coffee of about 6 ounces
probably contain between 60 and 180 mg of caffeine, which means that 100 mg, the
value usually adduced, is as good as any. This is the value repeated throughout this
book, and it is meant to be understood in the context of all the reservations and
qualifications expressed in this section. The actual content in your cup can range from
40 mg to 400 mg.
Soft Drinks
Soft drinks are a major dietary source of caffeine. The amount in each varies widely.
Jolt Cola, at or near the top of any list, has 70 mg in a 12-ounce can, CocaCola has 46
mg, and Canada Dry Diet Cola has 1 mg. Coca-Cola has 7.2 mg more caffeine in a 12-
ounce serving than its nearest rival in market share, Pepsi, according to the FDA. The
agency says the differences don’t appear to have any health consequences. Even though
caffeine is on the FDA’s GRAS list, the list of food additives “generally recognized as
safe,” the agency has expressed reservations about excessive caffeine consumption by
children and any consumption by pregnant women. But FDA spokesman Jim Greene
said in reference to most of the soft drinks ranked, “the effect of the milligram
differences among these products is basically nil in the long run.”
Interestingly, 7-Up, one of the best-selling soft drinks in the United States, has made
the absence of caffeine the basis for a recent advertising campaign.
1.9% theobromine
Cocoa butter
.21%caffeine
1.2% theobromine
Chocolate liquor or baking chocolate
.21% caffeine
.15% theobromine
Milk chocolate
.02% caffeine
gnarana
Pure caffeine is extremely toxic, and must be handled with hooded ventilation
systems, masks, and gloves. Largely for this reason, chemical supply companies are not
permitted to sell it to individual purchasers.
It is probably significant that the most widespread words in the world—borrowed into
virtually every language— are the names of the four great caffeine plants: coffee,
cacao, cola, and tea.
—E.N.Anderson, The Food of China, 1988
Coffee bean
(Coffea arabica 1.1 (arabica)- Brazil,
Seed Coffee
and Coffea 2.2 (robusta) Colombia
robusta)
Tea
Leaf, India,
(Camellia 3.5 Tea
bud China
sinensis)
Cola nut
Chewing
(Cola West
Seed 1.5 cola nuts
acuminata, Africa
and cola tree
Cola nitida)
Maté
South
(Ilex Leaf <.7 Yerba maté
America
paraguariensis)
Yaupon
Leaf, (not
(Ilex cassine, (unknown) Cassina
berry cultivated)
Ilex vomitoria)
Yoco South
Bark 2.7 Yoco tea
(Paulliniayoco) America
The structure of the web spun by the spider under the influence of marijuana is pretty
close to the conventional one, but is unfinished. The benzedrine web is meticulous in
places but has huge gaps. The chloral hydrate web is a stray collection of strands. The
illuminating example is caffeine. Anyone who has ever had a tip from an excitable
stockbroker go south, or had the rearview fall off his brand new car when he slammed
the door and discovered it was made on the night shift, or examined the film of his
baby’s christening and found streaks of light in place of his child’s beaming face will be
struck by the slipshod, disorderly, ill-planned, chaotic, and slaphappy structure laid
down by the spider intoxicated by caffeine.5
It should be remembered that if a range of doses has not been studied, comparisons as
between different drugs are virtually meaningless. And, of course, in comparing the
effects of caffeine with those of other chemicals, both the New Yorker and NASA seem
to be forgetting that caffeine acts as a natural chemical defense mechanism for plants
against insects, a fact that may go a long way in explaining the perplexity of the poor
spider.6
Drawing of spider webs spun under the influence of various psychoactive drugs. The
web spun by Araneus diadematus, the common house spider, is altered when the spider
is exposed to chemicals. When juxtaposed with the drawing of a normal web, four
drawings of spider webs spun by spiders exposed to marijuana, benzedrine, chloral
hydrate, and caffeine demonstrate varying degrees of malformation. The results are
obvious, even without the use of a sophisticated graphic analyzer. Compared with the
webs spun normally or under the influence of marijuana, benzedrine, or chloral
hydrate, the one spun after the administration of caffeine is clearly the most deformed.
Each of the other webs exhibits an evident “hub and spokes” pattern, presumably the
most fundamental aspect of the web paradigm. The caffeine web has lost any trace of
this design and is almost completely disrupted.
Engraving from Dufour, Traitez Nouveaux. This engraving shows a branch from the
coffee tree, a cylindrical instrument for roasting coffee, and a few roasted coffee beans
themselves. (The Library Company of Philadelphia)
The earliest known and cultivated species is Coffea arabica, “the coffee shrub of
Arabia,” indigenous to the Ethiopian massif. Now grown mostly in Latin America, it
accounts for 75 percent of all coffee consumption worldwide. The other commercially
important species, Coffea canephora, the main variety of which is robusta, supposed to
have originated in Uganda and the Congo, is widely cultivated in Africa and
Madagascar. Both species are also cultivated in Asia.
Theacrine 0 11
Liberine 5 7–11
Methylliberine 0 3
In addition to Coffea arabica and Coffea robusta, the species Coffea liberica, native
to Liberia, is much larger and sturdier than either and is under commercial cultivation in
Africa. It is reported to produce an inferior-tasting brew that is high in caffeine. An
allied Liberian species, Coffea excelsa, a vigorous plant discovered in 1905, yields
beans that are small, bright yellow, and, like liberica, high in caffeine.
By the beginning of the eighteenth century, the Dutch, French, Spanish, Portuguese,
and English began introducing Coffea arabica into tropical colonies from Java to
Jamaica. After obtaining the plant in 1725, Brazil quickly became and still remains the
world’s largest supplier of coffee.
It is useless to recount in detail the infinite care that I was obliged to bestow upon this
delicate plant during a long voyage, and the difficulties I had in saving it from the hand
of a man who, basely jealous of the joy I was about to taste, through being of service to
my country, and being unable to get this coffee-plant away from me, tore off a branch.7
In addition to being menaced by this spiteful nemesis, de Clieu shared with his fellow
passengers a narrow escape from capture by Tunisian pirates and another from
destruction in a heavy storm, which smashed the greenhouse but left the slip unscathed.
However, the greatest threat to survival, both of the people and the plant, was a long
calm that sustained itself until the supply of drinking water was nearly exhausted and
what was left had to be rationed for the remaining weeks of the trip. De Clieu writes:
Water was lacking to such an extent that for more than a month I was obliged to share
the scanty ration of it assigned to me with my coffee plant, upon which my happiest
hopes were founded and which was the source of my delight. It needed much succor, the
more in that it was extremely backward, being no larger than the slip of a pink.8
As a result of his ministrations, the tree “multiplied with extraordinary rapidity and
success,” and the first harvest was gathered in 1726. De Clieu describes the ensuing
tropical storms, in the course of which Martinique’s cacao plantations were
apocalyptically destroyed, clearing the way for the progeny of his charge. He was so
successful that he was “enabled to send plants to Santo Domingo, Guadeloupe and other
adjacent islands,” where they also flourished.
Even without the advantage of a flood to clear the ground, coffee plantations sprang
up in other French colonies in the New World and, in fact, the first coffee bush planted
in Brazil, destined to become the world’s biggest coffee supplier, was a descendant of
this French planting as well. By the end of the eighteenth century, coffee was under
cultivation throughout the West Indies and in Mexico, Costa Rica, Venezuela,
Guatemala, and Puerto Rico. In 1746, de Clieu, by then a ship’s captain and honorary
commander of the Royal and Military Order of Saint Louis, was presented by the
secretary of the navy at the court of Louis XV. The king, who, unlike his father Louis
XIV, had learned to appreciate the beverage, honored de Clieu for his cultivation of
coffee by returning him to Martinique as governor of the island.
Oddly enough, the story of Lt. Colonel Francisco de Melo Palheta, the military man
responsible for planting the first coffee tree in Brazil, which itself became the
progenitor of that country’s largest single crop to this day, is evocative of de Clieu’s.
Palheta was a Spanish officer sent from Brazil to French Guiana to arbitrate an
international controversy. While there, he engaged in an affair with the governor’s wife,
who, in recognition of his erotic favors, gave him a bouquet at his departure in which
was concealed a cutting of a coffee tree. Hitherto, the plant had been jealously and
successfully kept from the Spanish colonies by the French and Dutch, but this smuggled
lover’s gift breached their security, and so the Brazilian coffee line began.
Coffee Cultivation
Coffea arabica flourishes in areas with moderate rainfall, about forty to sixty inches
evenly distributed throughout the year, and at altitudes of between four thousand and
five thousand feet above sea level (although in Ecuador it is cultivated as high as
ninety-four hundred feet, while in subtropical Hawaii it is grown at sea level), and
grows best where the temperature remains close to 68 degrees Fahrenheit. Unlike most
tropical plants, Coffea arabica can withstand low temperatures, although it is killed by
frost. While the wild coffee tree grows to a height of twenty-five to thirty-five feet, the
commercially cultivated variety of Coffea arabica attains only about sixteen feet and, to
facilitate harvesting, is frequently trimmed to the height of a man.
Coffea arabica produces abundant small, white, highly fragrant blossoms that
develop in clusters, three or four years after planting. Flowers that open on a dry, sunny
day produce more fruit than those opening on a wet day because of a greater
opportunity for wind and insect pollination. The stunning beauty of a coffee estate in
flower is transient: After two or three days, even gentle breezes will strip the flowers
away, leaving behind only the dark green foliage and the berries. About six to eight
months later, what are called the berries (or, more properly, the drupes), about one-half
to three-quarters of an inch long, ripen, changing from dark green to yellow, then to red,
and finally to deep crimson. Because of their size, color, and gloss at maturity, the ripe
berries are called “cherries” by farmers and processors. Beneath the red skin of these
cherries is a moist, sweet-tasting fleshy pulp, good for eating, that surrounds the green
coffee bean. Most cherries contain two locules, each locule housing a seed, or bean. The
seeds are each sheathed by two coverings: a thin, hard endocarp, called the
“parchment,” and a thin translucent membranous pellicle, called the “silver skin.” Some
cherries contain three beans, while others, generally those at the tips of the branches,
contain only one round bean, known as a “peaberry.” All parts of the fruit and the
leaves contain caffeine.
The berries are picked by hand or shaken from the bush onto mats, producing a yield
per acre that varies enormously, because a single tree, depending on its individual
character and on climate and altitude, can produce between one and twelve pounds of
dried beans a year. The best time for harvesting varies with the region in which the
coffee is grown. Under ideal conditions, as in Java, planting is staggered throughout the
year, blooming and fruiting are continuous, and therefore the coffee can be harvested
almost continuously. Where conditions are less than perfect, as in parts of Brazil, coffee
is harvested in the winter only.
Gourmet coffees are exclusively high-quality, mild varieties of Coffea arabica
(“mild” in the coffee trade means lacking harsh, hard taste characteristics), principally
from Latin America, excluding Brazil. Excellent varieties of Coffea arabica are also
obtained from Kenya, Tanzania, Ethiopia, and Cameroon and the Yemen. Originally, all
fine coffees came exclusively from the Yemen, from where they were shipped to the
world through the port of Mocha. Soon after World War I, the wells of Mocha dried up,
and coffee cultivation was largely abandoned. Today, the relatively small amount of
coffee exported from the Yemen leaves through the port of Hodeida, but it still carries
the traditional name of Mocha, which has never stopped being synonymous in the
public’s mind with the best beans. Most Brazilian coffees are also varieties of Coffea
arabica, but they are characterized by less refined flavor and aroma than those of the
mild group.
In Costa Rica, competitively cultivating the Coffea arabica plant is essential to the
nation’s livelihood. This means producing an abundant crop and processing it quickly
and well. Traditionally, small coffee farmers tended their patches of plants. Today, they
are being replaced by large plantation holders, who are increasingly planting an
improved strain of Coffea arabica called “sun coffee.” The name for this variety,
developed in the early 1970s, derives from the fact that, unlike other strains of the
coffee tree that require a mixture of sun and shade, these new plants need, and can stand
up to, the unremitting tropical blaze. That means that they can be planted without the
benefit of a surrounding shade species. This is good news for farmers who are trying to
increase coffee yields, because the entire acreage under cultivation can be dedicated
exclusively to coffee plants. As against this agrarian strategy, some environmentalists
argue that creating an exclusive crop, or monocrop, of coffee results in catastrophic soil
erosion, causing massive damage to the land within a few years.
In 1898 the French merchant Emil Laurent took advantage of the recent discovery,
made in Uganda near Lake Victoria, of canephora, a new species of Coffea. After
identifying a variety of canephora, which he called “Coffea lauurentii,” he brought it
for marketing to a Belgian horticultural firm. The firm decided that applying the name
“robusta” to this variety would be conducive to sales of this harsher and more heavily
caffeine-charged brew by suggesting both a robust flavor and a robust kick. The beans
from Coffea robusta, although yielding coffee with a flatter and less aromatic flavor
than Coffea arabica varieties, are nevertheless widely used, particularly in the form of
soluble, or instant, coffees.
The hardiness of the plant is also suggested by its name, for Coffea robusta possesses
greater strength and, because it contains nearly twice the caffeine (1.3 percent of the dry
weight of arabica beans, as compared with 2.4 percent of the dry weight of robusta
beans), greater resistance to disease and insects than Coffea arabica. It yields more
fruit, grows at lower altitudes and in a wider variety of soil conditions, and adapts to
warm humid climates to which Coffea arabica is not well suited. It also produces a full
crop within four years, less than half the time needed for Coffea arabica. Coffea
robusta berries take from two to three months longer to ripen than do Coffea arabica
berries, though the plants typically yield larger harvests. Harvesting is easier because
the Coffea robusta berries stay on the tree when they are fully ripe, instead of dropping
off as do Coffea arabica berries, and so the picking can be delayed to suit the planter’s
convenience. These differences mean that it costs less to grow and harvest Coffea
robusta than Coffea arabica coffee, which accounts for its increasing use as a source of
cheap blenders and as the basis of instant coffees, despite its inferior taste. Many
familiar commercial coffee products are mixtures that combine the characteristics of
different species and varieties, blended to satisfy a wide range of consumer tastes.
Like Coffea arabica, Coffea robusta flourishes between the Tropics of Capricorn and
Cancer. Coffea robusta prefers rainfall of about 75 inches a year and temperatures of 60
to 80 degrees Fahrenheit. The biggest difference between the conditions favored by
Coffea arabica and those favored by Coffea robusta is that Coffea robusta demonstrates
a tolerance to more extreme conditions. Most notable is its ability to withstand humidity
without succumbing to the bane of Coffea arabica, leaf spot disease (Hemileia
vastatrix).9
Despite Laurent’s efforts on behalf of Coffea robusta, Coffea arabica remains the
more widely grown, but many regions where temperature and humidity are high,
especially those that have experienced the devastation of leaf spot disease, have been
replanted with Coffea robusta. Coffea robusta coffees are now the major species grown
in the less mountainous regions closest to the equator. African varieties of Coffea
robusta today represent more than 25 percent of all coffee used in the United States and
Europe.10
Coffee Oddities and Curiosities
Those embarked on an ongoing hunt for the best cup of coffee should find it
tantalizing to discover that there is a species superior to Coffea arabica—declared by
many to be the species of genus Coffea producing the most aromatic and flavorful
coffee beans in the world—that is currently unavailable and likely to remain so for the
indefinite future. Coffea stenophylla, by historical accounts, was considered superior to
Coffea arabica in a number of important respects: It is a hardier plant, it produces a
larger crop, and, most importantly for the coffee connoisseur, the brewed beans have a
richer taste. In these respects Coffea stenophylla would seem to combine the advantages
of both Coffea arabica and Coffea robusta and go them each one better. But bad timing
doomed Coffea stenophylla to the limbo of uncultivated crops. The plant was
discovered growing wild in Sierra Leone and introduced to various English colonies in
1895, at the same time that a massive epidemic of rust disease was eradicating many
plantations. To recover from the blight, the farmers needed a plant that would turn out a
crop as quickly as possible. This pointed them away from Coffea stenophylla, the main
disadvantage of which is requiring nine years to reach maturity, two years longer than
Coffea arabica and five years longer than Coffea robusta. As a result, even though it’s
hardier and it produces more beans once it gets started, Coffea stenophylla has never
gained a foothold in the marketplace.11
It has been reliably determined by French and German investigators that several
species of Coffea, including Coffea gallienii, Coffea bonnieri, Coffea mogeneti, which
grow wild in the Comoro Islands and Madagascar, are absolutely caffeine free.
However they contain a bitter substance, cafamarine, that makes their beans unfit for
use.12
A tea was and still is prepared from the leaves of the coffee plant, most notably in
Arabia, Sumatra, and the West Indies. It is infused from the roasted leaves of the coffee
tree in the same manner as regular tea, and it is preferred, where consumed, to coffee
brewed from the bean.13 In Sumatra the bean crop was frequently ravaged by insects,
and the growers, seeking a substitute that would contain caffeine, collected the leaves in
their stead. The discovery that the leaves are high in caffeine was exploited during
World War I by Dutch factories, who bought them by the ton in order to extract the
stimulant for use by combat troops.
Another sort of coffee tea is a peninsular habit of Arabia and has been since at least
the middle of the sixteenth century. In the land from which the coffee bean came, a
beverage, commonly preferred in summer because of its “cooling” humoral properties,
and exclusively consumed by the discriminating, was brewed from the husks of the
bean. The decoction is said to resemble a sort of spicy, aromatic tea more than it does
either modern Western or Turkish coffee.
The Kentucky Coffee Tree (Gymnocladus dioica) is a plant native to central and
eastern North America and eastern China. Settlers ground the seeds to make a drink
with some resemblance to coffee. Like guarana and yoco, these plants contain
latherproducing saponin, but, unlike them, do not contain any caffeine.14
In sum, the primary botanical differences between the most popular and widely used
coffee plants, Coffea arabica and Coffea robusta, are these: Coffea robusta will grow at
relatively low altitudes, will tolerate higher temperatures and heavier rainfall, demands
higher soil humus content, and is generally more resistant to disease. Coffea arabica
beans are oval and green to yellowish green in color, while Coffea robusta beans are
rounder and tend toward brownish shades. Of course the most important difference
between the two species as far as coffee drinkers are concerned is that coffee made from
Coffea arabica tastes and smells much better. Avicenna, the great Arab philosopher and
physician, may have gotten it right a thousand years ago when he recommended beans
“of a lemon color, light, and of a good smell.”15
However, as stated above, it is now accepted that all tea, including both the prolific
Assam (assamica) and the hardy China (sinensis) teas, are varieties of a single species,
Camellia sinensis.
The bewilderment over the meaning of tea types has been exacerbated by the fact that
there are three distinct methods of processing tea leaves, each resulting in a
recognizably different product: black tea, green tea, or oolong tea. Black tea (called
“red tea” in China, after the color of the beverage rather than the darker color of the
dried leaves) is created when fresh green leaves are withered after plucking, spread out
to dry, and then crushed by rollers to bring out the aromatic oils; the crushed leaves then
oxidize, or ferment, and assume their characteristic brown color. Green tea is produced
by firing or steaming the fresh leaves immediately after picking, a step which prevents
the leaves from oxidizing and precludes the natural fermentation that would otherwise
occur. Oolong tea is prepared like black tea, but its leaves are allowed to ferment for
only a short time before drying and turn only partially brown, acquiring a flavor that
shares something of both black and green teas.16
The divisions of black, green, and oolong tea are based entirely on these differences
in processing. It is possible to make all three kinds from the same tea bushes, something
which is often done. However, certain regions typically specialize in producing a
certain type, and because of this people often mistakenly think the tea grown in each
place is botanically distinct. For example, virtually all Japanese tea is green, almost all
Indian tea is black, while China produces green, black, and oolong tea.
All types of tea, as they are commonly prepared, contain less caffeine than coffee.
Black tea infused for five minutes contains about 40 to 100 mg of caffeine in each cup;
if infused for only three minutes it contains about half this amount. Green tea has less
caffeine than black. Tea bags, because they contain broken leaves, produce a drink that
contains more caffeine. In addition to caffeine, tea contains polyphenols, commonly
known as “tannins,” and aromatic or essential oils. In China, medicines are made from
the tannins to treat a variety of diseases including kidney and liver conditions. The
essential oils are the source of tea’s distinctive aroma and reputedly act as a digestive
aid. Green tea contains more essential oils than black, which typically loses some of
these in its longer processing, and therefore green tea has a stronger scent.17
Constant pruning and plucking keeps the bush desperately striving for full treehood and
perpetually producing new leaves and buds…. The poor tea bush is kept in this state of
unrelieved anxiety from about age 2 to something over 50, when its yield begins to
decrease, and, to avoid labor and sorrow, it’s uprooted and replaced. It dies without
once having been allowed to flower and seed.20
Even under such grimly unremitting cultivation, each tea bush produces at most only
ten ounces of finished dry leaf a year.
Both Assam and China tea plants are trimmed to waist height, not only to stimulate
the bush, but to make plucking the leaves easier. Ideally, only young leaf shoots and the
unopened leaf bud, rich in caffeine and the organic compounds that give tea its aroma
and flavor, are harvested. Plucking only the young leaves without destroying the health
of the plant is a highly skilled job. Superior tea results when only the growth bud, or
“pekoe,” and the next youngest leaf are taken. Lower grades of tea are the products of
“coarse” plucking, in which the bud, the first two leaves, and the old leaf below them
are all taken, along with that much more of the twig. Unfortunately, to reduce costs,
mechanical shearing, producing a coarse tea of uneven quality, is on the increase. For
example, the Russians, who raise tea in Georgia north of the Caucasus, employ a self-
propelled mechanical tea plucker of their own invention. However, the best teas are
high-grown on terrain that precludes mechanization, and even industrialized countries
like Japan and Taiwan still pluck their teas by hand. Because of improvements in
cultivation and harvesting techniques, an acre in Assam that produced three hundred
pounds of tea a hundred years ago may yield as much as fifteen hundred pounds today.
Despite all the efforts to bring tea planting to the West, only the Russian introduction
became commercially important. In 1893, using the offspring of plants that had been
planted in the botanical gardens of Sukahm, a Black Sea port, and which had been the
subject of agricultural experimentation for almost fifty years, C.S.Popoff transported
fifteen Chinese foremen and laborers to farm his estates and teach his Russian
countrymen how to raise tea, thus instituting a crop that has been a valuable source of
revenue for the region of Georgia ever since.
Like the cultivation of coffee, the cultivation of tea is fraught with many curiosities.
In Sri Lanka, the Tamil-speaking Hindus who pluck tea leaves bury their dead between
the tea rows.21 It is said that in early China, tea pluckers were virgin girls under
fourteen, who wore new gloves and a new dress daily.22 They were required to abstain
from eating fish and certain meats, so that their breath wouldn’t taint the flavor of the
leaves, and to bathe before going to the fields, for a similar reason.23 Tea will not grow
for some time where lightning has struck or on the site of former human habitation—or
so the Chinese farmers’ lore teaches.24
The Cacao Tree (Theobroma cacao)
Cacao is the bitter powder made from the ground, roasted beans of the cacao tree
(Theobroma cacao) called cacao or cocoa beans, with most of their fat removed. The
family Sterculiaceae, to which the genus Theobroma belongs, has one other member of
major economic importance, Cola. “Theobroma” is scientific Latin (from Greek roots)
for “drink of the gods,” and the genus was so named by Linnæus in 175325 for the fact
that the cacao tree was a sacred plant to the Aztecs, who cultivated it and used it in their
religious rites. In 1502, when cacao seeds were brought back to Spain by Columbus, the
cacao tree became the first caffeinated plant on record to reach Europe.
Twenty-two species of the genus Theobroma have been distinguished, but only cacao
is raised commercially. Another species, bicolor, is grown in Latin American family
gardens as a source of beans or of a sweet pulp used for confections, and in Mexico it is
used to make a drink called pataxte or to adulterate more expensive chocolate. Genetic
investigation of other species is being pursued in the hope of improving the cacao tree’s
yield and increasing its resistance to disease.
According to the botanist José Cuatrecasas,26 cacao originally grew wild from
Mesoamerica to the Amazon basin. The trees in the intermediate areas died out, and, by
the time human beings came to notice cacao, the northern and southern regions had
evolved two distinct varieties. Both of these varieties of the species cacao are
commercially cultivated: criollo (“native”), with long, pointed pods, which grows in
Mexico and Central America, and forastero (“foreign”), with hard, round pods, which
grows south of Panama. The Aztecs and Maya cultivated criollo exclusively, and its
beans were the ones enjoyed by the seventeenth-century European aristocracy. The
planting of forastero started with the Spanish conquerors. Criollo may have been the
early favorite because its beans require little or no fermentation while forastero cacao
must be fermented to make a palatable drink.27 Like Coffea arabica, criollo has a
distinctive, subtle flavor, but forastero has become the dominant variety worldwide,
supplying more than 80 percent of the world’s chocolate, because, like Coffea robusta,
it is more vigorous and produces a greater yield.28
Engraving from Dufour, Traitez Nouveaux. This French engraving illustrates a branch
from the cacao tree, two harvested cacao pods, and a vanilla pod. Vanilla was among
the many ingredients added to flavor chocolate drinks. (The Library Company of
Philadelphia)
The second likened the effects of the maté’s active principle to that of theine, the
name given to caffeine as occurring in tea, and stated that some authorities claim maté
is a species of tea.37
The methylxanthine content of maté, which is generally accepted as the basis for its
use as a beverage, has been extensively investigated. Reported caffeine concentrations
range from about 1 percent to 2 percent, the young leaves having the highest levels.
However, because the beverage maté is brewed from as many as sixty different species
of the Ilex genus, and, as noted below, because of the way it is prepared, a
determination of the average caffeine levels occurring in the drink is problematic.
Theobromine and theophylline may also occur in maté, although some investigators
have failed to detect them. However, even if present, their concentrations in the dried
leaf are pharmacologically insignificant.
Long before the Spanish explorers arrived in the early sixteenth century, the plant
was infused by the indigenous population to make a beverage in those areas of South
America to which it is native. Like the other caffeinated botanicals, maté was also
employed as a means of exchange. “Maté” is a Spanish word derived from an Inca
word meaning “calabash.” In South America, the leaves of yerba maté are infused and
drunk in a calabash through a six-inch reed or silver straw with a bulb-shaped strainer
(bombilla) to screen out the sediment. The native word for the plant is “caa,” but the
Spanish called it “Yerba.” Maté’s use was eagerly adopted by the colonists, who found
it so desirable that the governor of Paraguay gave settlers the right to impress the
natives to collect the leaves for its preparation. Jesuit priests, who arrived in Paraguay
around 1550, took control of the producing areas and began cultivation of selected
varieties to ensure a good supply, and, in consequence, the drink has often been called
“Jesuit tea.” Paraguayan prisoners brought back to Brazil by Portuguese invaders
helped spread the knowledge of the drink in Brazil. Almost all Argentinean and
Brazilian maté is produced through cultivation, while much of the Paraguayan leaf has
been harvested from jungle plants.
When the tealike beverage is prepared in the traditional South American manner,
boiling water is poured over the dried leaves in a small silver-mounted calabash about
the size of an apple; in family circles the gourd and bombilla are passed around like a
pot pipe. However, today a teapot and cups are frequently used instead of a gourd and
straw. About one-half to two ounces of leaves are used for each quart of water or heated
milk, and sugar and lemon are often added when milk has not been used. Because
several successive infusions are made from the same leaf by adding more boiling water,
it is very difficult to approximate the caffeine content of the resulting beverage. The
best estimates suggest a range from about 25 mg per 6-ounce serving, about as much as
a very weak cup of tea, up to about 100 mg, or the same as a cup of instant coffee.
Maté leaves are sold in many health food stores, usually as ingredients in herbal tea
mixtures, such as Celestial Seasonings “Morning Thunder.” As is the case with other
exotic caffeine-containing plant products, packages of maté sometimes misrepresent the
product as a caffeine-free herbal tea.
In North America, the cured leaves of the yaupon holly, Ilex vomitoria, also called
“cassina” or “Appalachian holly,”38 have been similarly infused for centuries to make
cassina, a hot, stimulating drink. In 1542, Narvaez and Cabeza de Vaca, Spanish
explorers of North America, described how cassina was used to make a ceremonial
black drink and medicinal potation by the coastal Indians of North Carolina. In 1562,
Capatain Laudonnière, who had sailed with the blessing of King Charles IX of France
to find a suitable place to relocate French Protestants, was presented with basketfuls of
cassina and observed the plant was used for currency among the natives. As recently as
1924, assemblies of Creek Indian men are described as taking concentrated infusions of
cassina continually for two or three days running, in part to induce vomiting and receive
its beneficial purgative effects.
Curing processes were developed early in this century by the Bureau of Chemistry of
the United States Department of Agriculture for producing three types: green, black,
and “cassina maté.” The last most closely resembles yerba maté.39 Even with the full
backing of the federal government, none of these efforts resulted in a commercially
viable drink.
The earliest mentions of the fruit may have occurred in the writings of El Ghafeky, a
twelfth-century Spanish physician, and of the thirteenth-century Arab botanist Ebn El-
Baithar. While their descriptions of a certain fruit sound as if cola is being referred to,
their characterization of the seeds seems not to fit this identification. In any case, the
word “cola” first occurs in the last half of the sixteenth century, in the works of Clusius
and other writers who learned of the existence of the plant from returning European
travelers and explorers.
Louis Lewin (1850–1929), a German pharmacologist, physician, and researcher,
reports in his book Phantastica that, as late as 1920, cola nuts still played an important
part
in the social life and commercial relations of these peoples [the inhabitants of the
Sudan between the Atlantic and the source of the Nile]. Much trouble is taken in order
to obtain the drug. The Haussa, for instance, organize long caravan-journeys to the
country of the Ashanti, and their arrival is an important event for the latter. Those who
have no money to buy the drug beg. Rich people ingratiate themselves by distributing
nuts or pieces of nuts. The inhabitant Kano in northern Nigeria does not hesitate to sell
his horse or his best slave, his two most important possessions, in order to enjoy his
favorite pastime. Indeed, it is not rare for a poor man to seize an already half-
masticated piece of another person’s nut and to continue chewing it.43
Lewin adds that, at this time, “These nuts, like every eagerly desired substance which
modifies cerebral activity, are fairly expensive. Every thing, even slaves, can be bought
with nuts.”
In some African countries these caffeine-containing nuts are so valuable and widely
coveted for their stimulating power that they continue to be used as local currency.
Like other caffeinated botanicals in Arabia, China, and South America, cola nuts are
important fixtures of the ceremonies of everyday African life. In Nigeria, for example, a
marriage proposal is accompanied by the white variety of cola nuts and a refusal is
accompanied by red cola nuts. Cola is also a necessary part of every dowry. In addition,
“Oaths are sworn on the kola nut, friendships or hostilities are symbolized by kola and
some nuts are even buried with the dead.”44
The sorcerers of the Konkomba, a tribe living in the Oti Plain, part of the former
French and British territories of northern Togoland, are well known to specialize in
administering fatal medicines to procure the death of their victims. Cola nuts have a
cleft down the middle that these magicians have used as a convenient repository for
their poisons. Therefore, as a precaution, tribe members will not eat cola nuts given to
them by strangers. The usual procedure is to “accept the nut, thank the giver, and, later,
throw it away.”45
Cola nuts have a strong taste and, compared with other natural sources, contain a
strong concentration of caffeine. However, contrary to a common belief, the flavor of
cola soft drinks does not come from these nuts and neither does their caffeine. While it
is true that cola soft drinks contain significant doses of caffeine, their insignificant cola
nut content contributes only about 5 percent of the total. The rest of the caffeine in colas
and all of the caffeine found in other sodas is a by-product of coffee and tea
decaffeination that has been added to the citrus, vanilla, cinnamon, and other flavoring
components of these drinks.
A curiosity is gotu cola, also known as Indian pennywort, a traditional Chinese
medicinal herb believed by some to prolong life. This swamp plant is native to China,
Sri Lanka, and South Africa and has been used as a folk remedy for leprosy, cancer,
skin disorders, arthritis, hemorrhoids, and tuberculosis. It has also been used as an
energy tonic, aphrodisiac, and treatment for mental disorders. In the United States it is
an ingredient in many herbal “energy formulas.” A common misconception is that gotu
cola contains caffeine. Although it is true that gotu cola may well contain anti-
inflammatory glycosides, agents that can heal skin ulcers, it contains no caffeine
whatsoever.
The Amazon Indians used it for centuries to give them strength. In the Tupi language,
“guarana” means “making war.” Many who used it could enjoy up to six women at a
time and achieved an advanced age. It was only in the seventeenth century that guarana
was discovered by Father Felip Betendorf and was made known to western
civilizations. The commercialization of guarana began in 1958, and soon after it
became the tonic plant and fortifying agent most used and most popular in Brazil. It is
equally widely used in the United States.
Coca
The coca plant (Erythroxylon coca) is a small tree or shrub with tiny white flowers
native to the region of the Andes Mountains. The natural source of the drug cocaine, the
leaves have been mixed with powdered lime and chewed by natives as a stimulant and
panacea since ancient times.
Usually planted from seeds, the seedlings are raised in a nursery for up to ten months.
Once replanted, the amount of cultivation lavished on them varies with the size and
location of the plantation. When the tree is about six feet tall, pickers, in the spring and
again in the fall, gather the leaves, which are then cured and dried, before being
powdered for local use or sold for extraction. When supplies from South America fell
short of worldwide demand, coca was cultivated in the East Indies, with the result that
much of the legal international trade originates in Java.50
In the regions to which it is native, powdered coca leaves are freely available in local
markets. The chewing is a general practice among Andean laborers, who claim that, as
a result of their use of the leaves, they can work for days with little food or rest.
Distances in the region are sometimes reckoned in cocadas, the range that can be
traversed on one chew. The admixture of lime is considered indispensable to producing
any effect, and lime is similarly used in commercial processing to extract the alkaloid,
cocaine.
Coca leaf use creates an apparently minimal detriment to the people who chew it and
the society in which they live. In striking contrast are the detrimental effects of using
extracted cocaine, a practice generally associated with personal instability, drug
dependence, paranoia, violence, and eventual psychosis. The reasons for these marked
differences are unclear. Scientists point to the slower rate of absorption from chewing as
compared with smoking or injection, to a different set of social mores, and suggest that
there may be other active alkaloids in the leaf that moderate the effects of cocaine in a
way that is not achieved when the extracted chemical is consumed by itself. The fact is
that science today has not solved the mystery of these disparate effects, and a similar
uncertainty and confusion surrounds the differences between the effects created by each
of the plants listed in this section when compared with the effects of the chemical
extracts of each plant’s “active principle.” We like to think that our contemporary
science has all the basic answers, but insofar as understanding the way these
psychoactive plants do what they do, the answers still elude us.
Khat
In 1892, when James Walsh published his book on tea, he mentioned an “Arabian
tea” that he called “Cathadules,” which he said was prepared from the leaves of shrub
“extensively cultivated there for that purpose, as much attention being bestowed upon it
by the natives as on coffee. This preparation is sometimes also called ‘Abyssinian tea.’”
He observed, “The leaves are also chewed, when green, like those of the coca in South
America, being highly intoxicating, particularly in the wild state.”51
Khat (qat, kat, chat, murmungu, mirra, or miraa), or Catha edulis, is an evergreen
shrubby tree whose fresh leaves and young twigs are chewed for their stimulating effect
and is also the name for the popular beverage brewed from its leaves and used by
millions in a wide area of East Africa and the Middle East. But it is in the Yemen, the
traditional home of coffee, that khat’s use has for centuries been a pervasive social
institution that colors family, work, and recreational activities and associations.
Although its consumption is general in the Yemen among men, women, and children, in
neighboring countries its use is more limited. For example, it is reported that truck
drivers are the primary regular users of this plant in Kenya.
Ever since khat came to European attention from its widespread use in the Middle
East, it has been assumed to contain the same stimulant as coffee and tea. Therefore the
active ingredient was, on analogy with “caffeine,” given the name “cathine.” Today it is
known that khat contains no caffeine but does contain several active chemicals, some of
which are alkaloid stimulants structurally similar to amphetamines. Cathinon is thought
to cause the primary stimulant qualities of khat, while cathine and norephedrene are
said to contribute to its other somatic effects, such as brachiodilation, or enlargement of
the passages leading to the lungs. Based on an analysis of twenty-two khat samples of
diverse origins, one group of researchers determined that, in 100 grams of fresh leaves,
there are 120 mg of cathine, 36 mg of cathinone, and 8 mg of norephedrine. The leaves
lose their potency when they dry out, which is one reason khat use has not spread
beyond the areas of its cultivation. Unlike coca leaves, the leaves of khat, which have a
bitter, astringent taste, are swallowed after they are chewed.
Yemen’s extremes of altitude and variations in soil and climate make it suitable for
the cultivation of a diverse variety of crops. Mediterranean fruits such as oranges and
grapes are grown on the slopes, and bananas, cotton, dates, tobacco, and mangos are
produced on the coastal plain. Coffee and khat are grown in the central highlands, and,
together with cotton, constitute the biggest cash crops. Coffee had long been the most
important export of the Yemen, famous for its superior mocha, so called because, in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Mocha was its primary port of egress into the
world market. Though the best Arabian coffee, among the most prized and expensive
anywhere, is still grown in the Yemeni district of San’a, coffee cultivation is losing
ground to the more profitable cultivation of khat, for Yemeni khat, like Yemeni coffee,
is considered to be of superior quality. Strange to say, the Yemen, which all the world
thinks of as the first home of fine coffee, has become intensely preoccu pied with the
use of a different psychoactive stimulant plant, to the extent that coffee there, in both
use and cultivation, has been relegated to a distant second.
In 1996, Hamza Hendawi, in an Associated Press article datelined San’a, Yemen,
described how “from the finest private homes to the dusty streets…almost every man in
Yemen chews khat.” He explains that government officials are concerned because a
majority of the male population is stoned for at least part of every day. The bitter leaves
are chewed slowly, forming a small ball that chewers roll around in their cheeks, as
tobacco chewers do with snuff. In 2000, a bundle of six to ten branches sells for
between fifty cents and fifty dollars, depending on its quality. A typical khat fix costs
about three dollars, a staggering sum in a country with an average daily per capita
income of about a dollar a day.
A common sight is men walking home from the market carrying bundles of khat.
Khat chewing is often done at home during daily sessions that can bring together two
dozen or more men from early afternoon until evening. However, taxi drivers, street
vendors, and businessmen often chew it during the working day, and students chew it to
keep awake at night while studying for exams. Ali Abdullah Saleh, the president of
Yemen, a khat lover himself, still makes certain his troops receive their daily rations, as
he did during their conflict with rebels in southern Yemen a few years ago.
In 2000, Donna Abu-nasr, in another Associated Press article datelined San’a, reports
how increasing numbers of women are becoming regular khat users as well. After
primping and scenting themselves for the occasion, they gather in their own version of
afternoon tea, parties at which a light meal of sandwiches and desserts accompanies
khat chewing and intoxication. Tea and soft drinks are frequently served to alleviate the
dry mouth that is a side effect of Khat consumption.52
Khat nay-sayers include Mohammed Yehia al-Sharafi, a neuropsychiatry professor
and head of Yemen’s University of Applied Sciences, who says that although small
doses can reduce anxiety, regular use—and it is used with uncanny regularity —causes
gastritis, inflammation of the gums, depression, poor appetite, and loss of sexual
potency. Sharafi believes that most of khat’s attraction is the way it imbues its users
with a sense of inspiration, a feeling of being full of important ideas that merit long,
ebullient speeches. Khat’s proponents, who in addition to the president include many
prominent citizens, see in the drug the encouragement of some of the same desirable
social effects that coffee’s early proponents adduced. “Khat sessions remove all social
divisions and bring together men from different walks of life,” comments Wad’ai, one
of Yemen’s most respected judges and himself a devoted khat chewer. Besides,
according to Wad’ai, “It is not addictive as people say. That is why we don’t need it
when we are traveling outside Yemen.”
In a country in which khat cultivation consumes 75 percent of the irrigation water
and occupies more than 80 percent of the arable land, an important goal of some
factions in the government has been to decrease the production and use of khat. But an
active trade has continued despite their attempts. Like the recurring efforts in many
countries throughout the ages to ban caffeine-containing beverages, these measures
enjoyed little success.
Ephedra
Ephedras are leafless desert bushes native to arid regions throughout the world. They
are related to pine trees and bear tiny cones. Several species of genus Ephedra contain
the drug ephedrine, a stimulant alkaloid that is used as a treatment for asthma. Since
ancient times in China, the dry stems of Ephedra vulgaris have been boiled with water
to make a pleasant-tasting, although some say bitter, stimulating tea. American ephedra,
which grows throughout North America, is known as “Mormon tea,” because early
Mormon settlers used it instead of caffeinated beverages, which are prohibited by their
religion. Ma-huang, made from the more potent Chinese species Ephedra sinica,
Ephedra equisetina, and Ephedra intermedia, has been a traditional medicine in China
since well before the introduction of tea in that country. Until the development of
synthetic ephedrine, the alkaloid extracted from these species was used in the West as
the basis for nasal and bronchial remedies for relieving congestion and to treat low
blood pressure.53 Today, extracts from these plants are common ingredients of herbal
stimulants sold in health food stores. The FDA has recently warned about the dangers
of the increasingly common use by the young of ephedra products as intoxicants and
diet aids, especially when they are compounded with caffeine.
The plants are harvested in autumn, dried in the sun, and cut into pieces. When used
as a powdered medicinal, the pieces are boiled in water, sometimes with honey, and
then roasted until dry. It is still prescribed in China for typhoid, colds, coughing, and as
a painkiller. Today, synthetic ephedrine and a closely related compound,
pseudonorephedrine, are ingredients in dozens of prescription and over-the-counter
allergy and cold medications.
Betel
“Betel” can refer to either of two unrelated plants, the areca palm, known as the
“betel palm” (Areca catechu), or the betel pepper, known as the “pan plant” (Piper
betle). The “betel nut,” or seed of the areca palm, is wrapped in the so-called betel leaf
of the betel pepper, and the two are chewed together as a stimulant throughout southern
Asia and the East Indies. Many Western readers will be surprised to learn that chewing
betel is a steady habit for about 10 percent of the world’s population.54
The areca palm, first described by Theophrastus (374–287 B.C.) in about 340 B.C., is
cultivated in India, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Malaysia, and the Philippines. Its unbranched
trunk can reach fifiy feet but is only about one and a half feet around, with a cluster of
up to a dozen palm fronds sprouting from the top. The fruit, about the size of an egg,
has a tough rind that contains a hard seed, or nut. The fruit is picked in the fall, before it
is fully ripe, and is husked, boiled, and finally sun-dried until it turns dark brown or
black.
The stimulating ingredient in betel nuts is the alkaloid arecoline, a drug used by
veterinarians as a worming agent. (This is not the same as “black catechu,” an extract
for dyeing and tanning, which, confusingly enough, is taken from the wood of the areca
palm.)
For more than two thousand years the natives of the regions where the “betel palm”
grows have used this combination drug.55 Betel chewing was recorded in China by the
fourth century, where the nut, then as now, was known under its Malay name,
“pinang.” Travelers to the Far East have long noted the habit among the natives. Marco
Polo in the thirteenth century and Ibn Batuta in the fourteenth century described how
betel was consumed together with the areca nut and lime and noted its intoxicating
effects. Polo tells us:
You should know that these people, and indeed all the peoples of India, are addicted to
the habit, which affords them some satisfaction, of carrying almost continually in their
mouths a certain leaf called tambur. They go about chewing this leaf and spitting out
the resulting spittle. This habit prevails especially among the nobles and magnates and
kings. They mix the leaves with camphor and other spices and also with lime, and go
about continually chewing them. And this habit is very beneficial to their health.56
As we have seen, Bacon mentions the drug in 1627 in Sylva Sylvarum, describing
how it is chewed with lime, in a list of intoxicants that includes opium, tobacco, and
coffee. In the first quarter of the twentieth century, Lewin, who did extensive field
research into psychoactive botanicals, observed:
The passion for the drug is common to all, both men and women, to every age and
class: princes, priests, workmen, and slaves consume it. All religions participate.
Christians, especially coloured missionaries, Mohammedans, Buddhists, Brahmans,
Fetishists, and other sects. All races are addicted to the drug, Caucasians, Mongols,
Malays, Papuans, Alfurus, etc.57
Those who enjoy betel prepare to chew the dried pieces of the nut of the areca palm
by wrapping it in the fresh leaf of the betel pepper smeared with a lime paste and
perhaps flavored with cloves, tamarind, or other spices. The use of the betel pepper leaf
and lime increases salivation and helps to bring out the active alkaloids of the areca nut.
When the betel nuts and leaves are chewed, a large amount of red saliva is pro duced,
which temporarily colors the gums and lips. However, the practice does not stain the
teeth black, as has sometimes been claimed, an error arising from the fact that some of
the chewers deliberately stain their teeth black for cosmetic effect or have poor nutrition
and dental hygiene.
Yohimbé
What is it in man’s devious make-up that makes him round on the seemingly more
wholesome and pleasurable aspects of his environment and suspect them of being
causes of his misfortunes? Whatever it is, stimulants of all kinds (and especially coffee
and caffeine) maintain a position high on the list of suspicion, despite a continuing lack
of real evidence of any hazard to health.
—Editorial, British Medical Journal, 1976, I:1031
Coffee and caffeine have long been suspected of causing illnesses ranging from
myocardial infarction, arrhythmias, hypertension, hyperlipidemia, gout, and anxiety, to
fibrocystic breast disease, various cancers and birth defects, and osteoporosis. No other
agent in the human environment has been as frequently associated with such a variety
of chronic-degenerative, even malignant diseases.
—Siegfried Heyden, “Coffee and Cardiovascular Disease,” 1993
Caffeine and, before caffeine was identified, coffee, tea, and chocolate, have been
said to cause, exacerbate, palliate, or cure an enormous variety of diseases and have
also been said to confer marvelous benefits, including increases in both intellectual and
physical capacities. If, like the great majority of people in the world, you use caffeine
regularly, you are faced with a complex, confusing, and often apparently contradictory
cacophony of traditional and contemporary claims about its effects on human health. In
former centuries, caffeine lovers had no guidance but the often fanciful discourses of
the medical men of their time. We are fortunate that, in the last half of the twentieth
century, a explosion of general medical knowledge and a large number of controlled
experiments have shed scientific light on many of caffeine’s effects. It has been often
and truly said that caffeine is the most studied drug in history. Yet, because of its nearly
universal use, the variety of its modes of consumption, its presence in and effects on
nearly all bodily systems, and its occurrence in chemically complex foods and
beverages, together with the complexity of the social and psychological factors that
shape its use, caffeine may also be one of the least adequately understood. Despite
tremendous scientific scrutiny, many central health questions about caffeine remain
unanswered or even unaddressed.
Caffeine is like the air. You don’t see it and usually hardly notice it, but it’s there all
the same, and it becomes part of you in a critical metabolic exchange that involves
every cell in your body. Considering that the sensorium and biomass of the human race
is virtually awash in caffeine, and has been besotted so for hundreds of years, and that
an overwhelming majority of people in almost every nation, including young and old,
healthy and infirm, rich and poor, has made the regular use of this psychoactive
stimulant more popular than the habitual use of any other drug, what do we really know
of caffeine? What do we know of what it is doing for us, doing to us, even doing to our
unborn children? The answer, as should become clear after reviewing the very
impressive record of studies presented in the following chapters and the appendices,
and evaluating both the findings and limitations of this research, is, “not nearly as much
as we need to know.”
The lack of adequate information about caffeine’s health effects is evident in the
disagreements that exist among experts. For example, the FDA, as recently as the late
1980s, reaffirmed its earlier position that medical evidence demonstrated no adverse
health consequences from caffeine in soft drinks, and the National Academy of
Sciences’ National Research Council and the U.S. Surgeon General’s office agreed that
no risk to health had been shown for moderate caffeine intake. In contrast, many
researchers, adducing the complexity of caffeine’s effects on the human body and the
many aspects of these effects that have received limited research attention, argue that
such a “clean bill of health” is not fully justified.
The acute administration of caffeine under experimental conditions in which the
subject has no tolerance to caffeine has been correlated with certain unmistakable
physiological responses, including temporary increases in blood pressure,
catecholamine levels, rennin activity, cortisol, free fatty acid levels, urine output, and
gastric secretions. In contrast, regular caffeine consumption does not continue
producing elevation in any of these levels. Nor does chronic caffeine ingestion elevate
cholesterol or glucose levels. Older people using caffeine regularly demonstrate no
change in blood pressure or heart rate, and even continuous heavy use does not increase
the risk of developing high blood pressure. The most recent studies contradict earlier
findings of a positive correlation between caffeine and heart attacks, kidney and bladder
cancers, pancreatic cancer, anxiety, fibrocystic breast disease, and hyperlipidemia. Less
clear is the evidence concerning the link between maternal caffeine consumption and
the health of the newborn.1
Many beneficial effects of caffeine are well established, and others may be coming to
light. Caffeine is a powerful bronchodilator in asthma patients and provides possible
protection against the adverse pulmonary effects of smoking.2 It also increases the
length of time that chronic, stable angina patients can walk without feeling pain. Some
researchers think that caffeine is effective as a therapy for neonatal apnea and could be
effective as a topical treatment of atopic dermatitis.3 It has long been recognized as an
analgesic adjuvant, or enhancer of pain medications. Caffeine is also useful in averting
acute hypotension (a sudden drop in blood pressure), such as that which sometimes
occurs after breakfast, especially in the elderly; people experiencing this problem are
advised to consume about 200–250 mg of caffeine, or about two cups of coffee, each
day.4
The difficulties of interpreting health care studies are suggested by a juxtaposition of
two articles that were published in 1983 in the New England Journal of Medicine. One
study asserted that arrhythmias are induced in susceptible patients with about two cups
of coffee or the equivalent amount of caffeine. The other challenged the significance of
this conclusion, stating, “What is not yet appreciated is that ventricular premature beats
are innocuous in the overwhelming majority of persons. They no more augur sudden
death than a sneeze portends pneumonia.”5,6
Coffee and tea contain so many different pharmacologically active substances that
there is no easy way to isolate the effects of caffeine from those of the other substances
they contain. It has even been found that the method of preparation as well as the
amount consumed alters the ultimate effects on human health, especially the effects on
the cardiovascular system.
Additional confounding factors plaguing research into coffee’s effects are well
summarized by Silvio Garattini, researcher and editor of Caffeine, Coffee, and Health,
who comments that although there are many epidemiological studies on the health
effects of caffeine and coffee, their probative value is limited by the high correlation
between smoking or alcohol consumption and coffee drinking. That is, it is often almost
impossible to isolate the effects arising from coffee from those arising instead from
smoking or alcohol. Garattini points out that it is also difficult to come up with a
universal definition of coffee consumption, because of the differences between types of
coffee beans, different methods of roasting, and the varying ways of preparing coffee
even in the same population. To make the situation worse, nondrinkers of coffee may
also differ from coffee drinkers in their other dietary habits or aspects of their lifestyle,
and in the disposition to different diseases.7
Individual differences in sensitivity to caffeine, differences that are often traced to
inherited variations in the rate of caffeine metabolism, are another source of confusion.
Few studies have been done pertaining to these differences. Although it seems likely
that caffeine sensitivity, like most other quantifiable natural variables, should follow a
normal bell curve of distribution, and therefore exhibit a range of values, some
investigators recognize in some people a qualitatively different response than is
observed in the general population. Anecdotal accounts of these unusual reactions
suggest a peculiar sensitivity that goes beyond the range of normal distribution. Drug
discrimination studies provide evidence for wide individual differences in sensitivity to
caffeine and document that some people can detect remarkably small amounts of the
drug. As reported in the Handbook of Experimental Pharmacology, in a chapter by
Griffiths and Mumford, the lowest dose detected by research subjects ranged from 1.8
to 178 mg, with about 70 percent of them detecting 56 mg or less and about 35 percent
detecting 18 mg or less.8 Other scientists have purportedly identified more unusual
reactions. For example, researcher S.S.Hayreh, in a 1973 study, gives an account of his
own extreme sensitivity to caffeine, which he describes as manifested in “dizziness,
weakness, and tremors, lasting two hours, and my pulse-rate went very high,”9 effects
he claims are experienced by many others. The significance of such observations
remains uncertain, as researcher Jack James explains: “It is not clear whether these
reactions represent pronounced, normal responses to a large caffeine dose, or whether
the subject’s reactions denote a peculiar sensitivity to the drug.”10
An example of the equivocal and uncertain effects of caffeine is the current debate
over whether caffeine is implicated in stimulating the symptoms of attention deficit
disorder (ADD) or whether it is a possible cure for ADD or both. In other words, no one
yet knows if it causes, relieves, or does not effect a given set of symptoms, an
uncertainty reminiscent of the humoral debates of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries as to whether coffee was “wet” or “dry” or “hot” or “cold” or all of these
things at once.
Despite the daunting array of cautionary and compromising considerations, it is
difficult not to acknowledge the concordant and apparently probative conclusions of
certain large-scale, well-designed studies. For example, a study of more than twelve
thousand men and women with high blood pressure and high cholesterol levels, the first
large-scale prospective study of caffeine and all causes of death, concluded that there
was no “relationship between coronary heart disease events or total mortality and coffee
consumption”11 in this high-risk group. The same result—that is, an absence of any
relation between caffeine consumption and all or any causes of death— was found by a
1990 study of forty-five thousand men, published in the NEJM,12 and also by the
Framingham study,13 the Evans County study (1960–69),14 and the Gothenburg,
Sweden, study.15
When evaluating the probative significance of these studies and the others referenced
in this section, consider that any study demonstrating that there is no link between
coffee and a given disease entity probably excludes any link with caffeine as well;
while a study that demonstrates a link with coffee leaves open the question of whether
caffeine or some other agent in coffee is responsible for the outcome.
Caffeine may be an intercalator; that is, it may interpose itself into the DNA
sequence
Caffeine may inhibit enzymes that catalyze DNA
Caffeine may damage DNA
Caffeine potentiates the toxic effects on cells of ionizing radiation, alkylators
(drugs used in the chemotherapeutic treatment of cancer), and other mutagens on
eucaryotic cells (cells with true nuclei)
Despite this menacing list of hypothetical mechanisms and a clear determination that
caffeine is “mutagenic in bacteria, fungi, plants and human cell cultures,”59 no
epidemiological association has been demonstrated between caffeine use and adverse
outcomes of pregnancy, with particularly reassuring exclusionary findings with regard
to major malformations. Although gross morphological defects can consistently be
induced in laboratory animals by administering toxic doses of caffeine, producing
serum levels that would be fatal in people, no relationship between maternal caffeine
consumption and congenital skeletal malformations or malformations of any organs has
been found in human beings.60 Studies suggesting caffeine’s harmful effects on the
fetus prompted the FDA, in 1980, to institute a recommendation that pregnant women
should eliminate caffeine intake or keep it as low as possible. However, a shift in the
scientific estimate of caffeine’s reproductive dangers is represented by the reassessment
of this warning made by the FDA in 1984. At that time, Dr. Sanford Miller, director of
the FDA’s Bureau of Foods, said that caffeine during gestation is probably acceptable if
limited to the amount in two or three cups of coffee daily, and that fears about its effects
were based on animal studies in which enormous amounts were given to pregnant rats
in a single dose. Today, although caffeine is no longer suspect in major teratologies, the
original FDA warning remains in place, and has been recently reaffirmed, because of
fears relating to less obvious injuries.61
The American Academy of Pediatrics Committee on Drugs has reviewed the effects of
caffeine on breast feeding and reported that moderate caffeine consumption has no
effect on breast feeding.
As with all foods, pregnant and lactating women should apply the principle of
moderation.... A reasonable guideline is around 300 mg daily.77
In several in vitro assays, human sperm motility and sperm progression increased with
the addition of caffeine. However in other assays, more detrimental effects on
spermatozoa ultrastructure and penetrating ability were observed at high
concentrations than at low concentrations of caffeine. In a study of 446 men attending
an infertility clinic, men who drank 1–2 cups of coffee per day had increased sperm
motility and density compared with subjects who drank no coffee. However, men who
drank more than 2 cups per day had decreased sperm motility and density…. Current
data are too sparse to draw conclusions about the effects of caffeine consumption on
male infertility.82
Thus, although the effect of large doses on fertility in men is still undetermined,
moderate doses of caffeine may even help a man to father a child, and the dynamics of
caffeine’s effects on sperm seem to resemble those ascribed to alcohol on sexual
performance in the traditional aphorism, “A little stimulates; a lot depresses.”
BACON says, Coffee “comforts the head and heart, and helps digestion”; Dr. WILLIS
says, “being daily drank, it wonderfully clears and enlightens each part of the soul, and
disperses all the clouds of every function.” The celebrated Doctor HARVEY used it
often; VOLTAIRE lived almost on it; and the learned and sedentary of every country
have recourse to it, to refresh the brain, oppressed by study and contemplation.
—Benjamin Moseley, M.D., A Treatise Concerning the Properties and Effects of Coffee,
1785
The saying goes, “You can’t be too rich or too thin,” to which perhaps could be
added, “or too smart,” because, even if each man is correct about how bright he
conceives himself to be, he would find it still better to be even a bit sharper. How far
would you go to acquire, for example, a drug that would enable you to perform better
on an IQ test, an SAT test, or a Bar examination? Or one that would help you to prepare
your taxes or balance your checkbook more accurately, solve chess problems or
crossword puzzles more readily, make better investments, or program a computer with
more acuity, or even drive home more safely? Surprisingly, you might not have to go
very far, because caffeine, in many ways, is a “smart pill” that can do just those things.
As demonstrated by scientific evidence and common experience, caffeine is a rare
and wonderful substance that safely improves many mental functions, including
alertness, memory, learning, and cognition. As early as 1933, one researcher analyzed
the effects of caffeine on solving more than 250 chess problems, comparing
performance of test subjects with and without caffeine. He observed a consistently
remarkable improvement in performance with caffeine.1 Such improvements were
reflected in a 1960s advertising campaign that dubbed coffee “The Think Drink.”
However, as to what the nature of this improvement may be or how great its extent,
there is little agreement anywhere. Some people are convinced that they can’t think
clearly or precisely without caffeine, while others say it makes them jittery and error
prone. Naturally, behavioral scientists have been eager to discover the secret of
caffeine’s ability to improve the brain’s information processing. Two complementary
hypotheses explaining this remarkable power are supported by experimental data. The
first hypothesis, sometimes called the “non-specific energetic” theory, attributes
caffeine’s enhancement of mental functions to a generalized energizing effect. The
second hypothesis, sometimes called the “specific cognitive” theory, attributes these
enhancements to specific effects on brain or neural activity. Finally, a “cognitive-
energetic” theory, combining the two, has also been formulated and may offer the most
complete and best-integrated elucidation of the phenomena.
J.E.Barmack, in a paper published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology in
1940, was one of the first to advance the non-specific energetic theory. Barmack
recognized the possibility that caffeine’s overall antihypnotic and antifatigue properties
could be part of the story, but, observing that caffeine increased the rate at which people
can add numbers, advanced the notion that caffeine acts non-specifically on “some
central process or processes concerned with alertness” that “allay the development of a
bored attitude to a task.”2 This idea is supported by many studies of continuous
performance, over a period of a half-hour or more of what experimental psychologists
call a “vigilance task,” one that requires prolonged attention and responsiveness but
little physical activity. In real life, caffeine improves long-term performance on
vigilance tasks such as solving arithmetic problems, driving a car, or flying an airplane.
Its effects are most apparent when people have been working at their tasks for some
time and are minimal when tasks are just begun. When people are allowed to take
breaks to alleviate boredom and fatigue, no significant benefit from using caffeine is
observed. These findings, based solely on studies of vigilance tasks, apparently confirm
Barmack’s theory, that caffeine acts by “refreshing” a fatigued person, so that the
enhancing effects of caffeine on long-term performance will obtain on any task that is
performed repetitively, monotonously, and requires continuous attention.3
The specific cognitive theory, championed by H.Nash in his 1962 book Alcohol and
Caffeine,4 asserts that caffeine acts directly on “specific neural capacities” that are
intrinsic to a given task and that it enhances performance on these tasks irrespective of
whether a person is fatigued. This idea was suggested to Nash by his examination of
performances of several different short-term tasks, some of which exhibited
improvement after caffeine was ingested, while others remained unaffected. Nash
argues that the benefits of caffeine on performance depend not on an improvement in
general energy levels, as Barmack had asserted, but instead on specific benefits related
to the nature of the task at hand. Abandoning the metaphor of the organism as an energy
system, Nash relied on another metaphor, one that became and remains the most
generally accepted in cognitive psychology today: that of the human organism as an
information-processing system. He observed improvement in the performance of a
number of tasks, such as adding numbers, immediate recall, and word fluency. These
benefits were realized even on brief tests administered when the subjects were rested
and alert, and neither fatigued nor bored. In contrast, he found no improvement in tests
of abstract reasoning, using language, deduction, estimating time intervals, or spotting
arithmetic mistakes. The overall conclusion from such studies has been that caffeine
“facilitates the speed, but not the memory, component of the task.”
If Barmack’s non-specific energizing theory is correct, we should expect caffeine to
improve cognitive performance only when a person has become bored or tired. If
Nash’s specific cognitive theory is correct, we should expect an improvement even
when a person is rested and alert to start with, but this improvement would be observed
only in some tasks and not others. However, because these theories are complementary
rather than inconsistent, which is to say, they could both be true at the same time, we
must also consider the syncretic hypothesis of A.F.Sanders, who argues that the
improvements in mental capacity caused by caffeine are a function of both the energy
level of the subject and the cognitive nature and demands of the task.5 Aiming to unite
the energetic and cognitive models of human information processing, Sanders published
his idea in 1983 that caffeine’s effect on performance is best understood as a function of
both the energetic state of the person and the cognitive requirements of the task.
Unfortunately, even with the advancement of Sanders’ cognitive-energetic theory, the
scientific community remains far from a complete and consistent explanation of
caffeine’s sometimes apparently paradoxical effects on human performance. For
example, an adverse effect has been observed on the attempt to repeat numbers
backward, while a beneficial effect has been observed on the attempt to repeat them in
their original order. In addition, caffeine impaired some factors of cognitive
intelligence, while improving those related to speed. In other cases, caffeine had a
deleterious effect on a given task until that task was practiced, whereupon the use of
caffeine resulted in an improvement.6 Another troubling inconsistency is the low level
of test-retest reliability. That is, the results of studies of caffeine’s effects, particularly
on the performance of complex tasks, vary widely, forcing us to wonder which
conclusions are the correct ones.7
Nevertheless, overall, scientific studies have confirmed some specific effects on
cognition and learning: Caffeine improves the performance of simple, familiar, routine
tasks, and it impairs or fails to affect the accomplishment of complex, novel,
unpracticed tasks. Perhaps the reason for this difference is that, by conferring extra
energy, caffeine causes a person to work more quickly but possibly less carefully.8
This explanation is in line with experiments that show that caffeine can stimulate fast
and strong but incorrect reactions. For example, an experienced computer programmer
may report that using caffeine makes well-practiced programming assignments easier to
complete, while it appears to sometimes interfere with the successful solution of new
and very difficult programming problems. Because real-life problems frequently present
both sorts of challenges, and the nature and distribution of these challenges will vary as
among different subjects performing the same tasks, caffeine should be expected to
produce a complex array of sometimes contrary effects. In other words, although in
some ways caffeine may give us a beneficial boost in our capacity to perform certain
tasks, in others it may induce us to make precipitous, overeager choices, or to “jump the
gun,” interfering with the circumspection necessary for accurate decisions. Perhaps a
quick trigger finger is good for the artist’s hand, if the testimony of artists, musicians,
and writers such as Balzac, Voltaire, Samuel Johnson, Beethoven, and Goethe about
caffeine’s importance in their creative lives is to be accepted. However, psychology,
which has yet to attain a coherent understanding of creativity, cannot shed much light
on caffeine’s effects on the creative process.
In the laboratory it is easy to create experimental tasks, such as one requiring subjects
to identify or remember numbers or colors flashing across a screen, in which few if any
of the study’s participants will have been previously practiced. In life, however, most
significant tasks are repeated and even systematically studied and practiced with the
intent of improving performance. In addition, in many work situations, because people
choose the jobs they pursue, they will often be performing those tasks for which they
have the greatest innate abilities. For these reasons, it is essential, in predicting the
effect caffeine will have on a person’s performance of a given task, to take into account
not only the features of the task itself, but also to reckon with the competency of the
person performing it.
Is programming a computer difficult or easy? Many people would find even basic
programming tasks challenging, complex, novel, and creative. Experienced, well-
practiced, and talented programmers might find many of these same programming tasks
easy, simple, familiar, and routine. Caffeine might therefore affect performances on a
simple programming test in opposite ways: The performance of the person who had
little competency with programming, either because of lack of specific experience or
specific ability, might well be impaired by caffeine. The performance of the person who
was eminently competent in programming, either because of extensive experience or
specific ability, might well be given a significant boost.
The effects of caffeine on task performance in real life are complicated still further
by the fact that life’s tasks are compound in nature, and, even for the same person,
certain elements of a task may be challenging and other elements easy, so that caffeine
would exert a variable effect on different stages and parts of the task. We can
reasonably speculate that, overall, the more competent you are in performing a task, the
more caffeine will help you do even better, while the less able you are in coping with a
task, the more likely it is that caffeine will fail to affect or even impair your efforts. If
this notion turns out to be true, the use of sufficiently large doses of caffeine, by tending
to push lower scores lower and higher scores higher, should serve to flatten the bell
curve of an IQ test into a sort of flying saucer.
A curious twist to this question is the possibility that caffeine may affect introverted
people differently from the way it affects extroverted people. One study concluded that,
when posed with challenging mental tasks, such as proofreading or solving
mathematical problems, impulsive, extroverted people get a boost in performance from
caffeine, while those who describe themselves as less impulsive and more introverted
often suffer marked detriments after caffeine ingestion. Another study of caffeine’s
differing effects on extroverts and introverts performing both simple and complex tasks
came to similar conclusions. The routine or simple task was to pick out a letter each
time it occurred on a page of type. The challenging or complex task was to answer word
analogies and sentence completion questions from the Graduate Record Examination.
This study seemed to confirm that everybody tends to do better the higher the dose, if
the task is extremely simple. However, on the complex task, the extroverts’
performance improved in a dose-dependent correlation with caffeine, while the
introverts’ performance worsened.
One additional possibility pertaining to competency comes to mind: If caffeine’s
impairment of challenging tasks is a result of prompting us to “jump the gun,” perhaps a
person can learn to compensate for this sort of overeager “coupling” even when riding
high on caffeine, learning to pause in order to perform the necessary evaluation for a
correct choice. If this can be done, then a savvy caffeine consumer might find that he
can multiply the number of tasks in which caffeine is helpful and the degree to which it
is helpful, and reduce the number and degree to which it causes impairment.
The aforementioned patients had severe sleepiness that decreased or remitted after they
discontinued caffeine. In some individuals, therefore, heavy use of caffeine apparently
provokes sleepiness. This is difficult to explain since caffeine is a stimulant.... The
unusual magnitude of the sleepiness and the rarity of this apparent association between
caffeine and excessive sleepiness, even in sleep clinic patients, suggest an idiosyncratic
phenomenon.32
Another strange effect, which might be called the “reverse placebo” effect, was
observed by A.Goldstein in a 1964 study. Participants in his experiment were all given
caffeine. Those who knew they had taken the drug were less likely to complain of
wakefulness than those who were not informed whether they had taken caffeine or a
placebo.33 Perhaps this could also be called the “bravado effect,” whereby people are
reluctant to confess a disturbance from what is ordinarily considered a mild agent, such
as caffeine. Surveys based on subjective responses clearly indicate that how much
caffeine people say they use is not related to how much difficulty they say they have
sleeping, and insomniacs do not report high caffeine use, defined as three or more cups
of coffee a day. In any case, most studies confirm that the closer to bedtime you
consume caffeine, the more likely it is to interfere with sleep. However, as we have
observed in our discussion of metabolic variation, some people metabolize caffeine
much more slowly than others, and their sleep may be disturbed even by caffeine
consumed twelve hours or more earlier.
Other studies of delayed sleep onset and poorer sleep quality, as evaluated on
objective criteria such as EEG measurements, confirmed the well-recognized large
variation among subjects in terms of caffeine’s effect on sleep (intersubject variation)
and also documented a similar large variation in the effect on the same subject on
different nights (intrasubject variation). These studies have also demonstrated that sleep
disturbances due to caffeine are more likely to occur in people who are not regular
caffeine consumers and that the regular use of caffeine and a concomitant caffeine
tolerance tends to diminish the disruptive effect of caffeine on sleep.
Overall, the leading research projects based on objective criteria demonstrate that
caffeine intake near bedtime increases tossing and turning, reduces deep sleep and
increases light sleep, has no effect on REM sleep, increases the time it takes to fall
asleep up to threefold, decreases total sleep time by nearly two hours, and increases
spontaneous awakenings. People who have not consumed caffeine before bedtime will
fall back to sleep after being awakened early in the night more slowly than they will
after being awakened later on. However, caffeine consumed shortly before bedtime
reverses this pattern, creating the shortest delay in falling back to sleep in the first part
of the night. Because the average plasma half-life for caffeine, a measure of how long it
remains in the bloodstream, is between three and seven hours, a large enough dose
would tend to sustain this effect throughout half the night. Although differing rates at
which caffeine is metabolized by different people are generally thought to be the basis
of the differences of effects among them, another school of thought attributes the
variations in caffeine’s effect on sleep among individuals to differences in neural
response sensitivity.34
17
caffeine dependence intoxication and
toxicity
Looking at the question from a different angle, we note that the remorseless
metabolic and psychical demand for certain intoxicants combines with their portability
to enable them to function as money in a black market. In fact, one hallmark of a
psychoactive drug of abuse, therefore, is a history of its use as a medium of exchange.
Opium, for example, is as good as money among black-market traders in Southeast
Asia. Cocaine is like gold bullion to the cartel managers of South America. Similarly,
caffeine-rich seeds, beans, and processed leaves have frequently served as mediums of
exchange throughout the world. In some African countries, cola nuts are still used as
money, the way the Maya, and other South Americans until the eighteenth century, used
cacao beans. In China and Russia, dried tea leaves were pressed into bricks and used as
currency. In Egypt and elsewhere among the Moslems, coffee was used as tender in the
marketplace from the beginning of the sixteenth century.
Q: What are some of the affects you’ve experienced when you suck down too much
caffeine?
A: I actually seem to get less alert. Well, actually the only effect I get from
overdosing on caffeine is severe nausea and vomiting. Man, I just go numb in my hands
and feet and start shaking all over, as my mind and body go hyper. I can’t focus, can’t
think straight. I go through oscillating emotional states, and I experience cold sweats,
shaking, and sometimes tachycardia. I usually have oscillations from paranoid to
psychotically calm and back again, along with racing thoughts, while getting slight
muscle cramps.
A friend of mine snorted pharmaceutical grade caffeine once; he said it was
extremely harsh on the nasal lining and not worth the buzz.
Q: I know a guy who once smoked a teabag and he claims that it gave him a buzz. Does
anybody know if what he said is true?
A: Yes it works, i did it in england with the cheap tea they give you in a generic (low
end) hotel, you just unfold the tea bag, you roll it up into something resembling a joint,
and you light it, it is next to impossible to keep it lit though. oh it is the caffiene in it
that gets you buzzed, the problem is that it goes away after about an hour and it leaves
you with a bitch of a headache and some really bad cotton mouth.
•••
I have used both caffeine and ephedrine together. It was related to one of my
experiments, how to stay awake and keep going one whole week. I had to use quite a
lot. I would say round 1500–2000 mg caffeine per day and around 200–300 mg
ephedrine. Finally me and my head were quite mixed up. I was sleeping two hours a
day and I kept this up for 19 days. I didn’t just think that I saw God, I thought I was
God I only drink coffee now. Be careful.
It is clear that scientists have little hard data on which to base conclusions about the
prevalence of caffeine intoxication. The uncertainty is exacerbated by the failure of
some researchers to distinguish between chronic high caffeine consumption and
caffeine intoxication, or similarly, the failure to distinguish between an isolated episode
of caffeine intoxication and chronic intoxication. Because caffeine is the most widely
used drug on earth, we can be sure that, sooner or later, both the prevalence and
incidence of caffeine intoxication will be better characterized by applying the rigorous
criteria for diagnosis, standardized assessments, and representative sampling techniques
that have been applied to intoxicants such as alcohol, cocaine, and morphine.
Really heavy caffeine consumption has often been observed among institutionalized
schizophrenics, as this curious letter, captioned “Coffee Eating in Chronic
Schizophrenics,” from two psychiatrists to the American Journal of Psychiatry (July
1986) vividly attests:
Specimen
Caffeine Content
Turner and Cravey, “A Fatal Ingestion of Caffeine,” Clinical Toxicology 10 (3): 341–
44 (1977).
To comprehend the blood values of the deceased, consider that a 300 mg dose of
caffeine, about as much as in two strong cups of coffee, result in a maximum blood
concentration of about .5 mg/100 ml in a 200-pound adult, or less than 5 percent of the
level found in this autopsy.
The survivor of what is probably the largest dose of caffeine on record is a twenty-
one-year-old woman, estimated to have ingested a total of 106 grams, taken in the form
of more than four hundred tablets, each containing 250 mg of caffeine. Despite an
astonishing serum caffeine concentration of nearly 300 mg/100 ml, the patient was said
to have shown “no residual neurological deficit” when discharged from the hospital
four days later.24
Although people who consume caffeine are less likely to commit suicide than
nonconsumers, there are outstandingly rare suicide attempts utilizing high doses of the
drug, which, under extreme circumstances, may in fact prove fatal, and there have been
at least two reports of suicides by caffeine overdose.25 Caffeine may be used to commit
suicide so infrequently partially because few people know if it could kill them or how
much it would take to kill them. The infrequency of accidental death may be a result of
the emetic (purgative) effect of the drug. If there is evidence that a patient has
significantly overdosed on caffeine, it should be treated as a medical emergency
requiring intensive monitoring, symptomatic treatment for rapid or irregular heartbeat
and seizures, aspiration of the stomach, and assessment of the serum caffeine level.
Serum readings of more than 1 milligram per milliliter are generally considered toxic.
Caffeine overdose has also been treated successfully with hemoperfusion, or flushing
the blood supply clean with fluids.
Because infants and young children are much more vulnerable to the toxic effects of
caffeine than adults, even when the discrepancies in their body weights have been
factored out, researchers say that in infants 40 mg/ml is probably toxic.26 There is a
case of a child who died from orally ingesting less than 5.5 grams, or the equivalent of
about five cups of coffee.27
Finally, the habit of smoking cigarettes must be mentioned again in relation to
caffeine toxicity. There is an unholy bond between the habits of smoking cigarettes and
drinking coffee. Although the precise figures vary, every survey indicates that a higher
percentage of smokers drink coffee regularly than do non-smokers and that of regular
coffee drinkers, smokers drink more of it than do non-smokers. We have noted
repeatedly how variable the kinetic profile, or speed of metabolic passage, of caffeine
can be among different people or in the same person at different times. Most people do
not realize, however, that giving up cigarettes causes a profound slowing of caffeine’s
half-life, creating a toxic hazard for people who continue their previous levels of
caffeine intake, unaware that, if they are no longer smoking, their coffee or tea will
have a greater and more sustained effect on them than they had become accustomed to.
epilogue
A Toast to the Future
In the course of its relatively brief history, caffeine has become the world’s most
popular drug. Its most common sources, coffee, tea, and chocolate, have been
celebrated and promoted as productive of health, stamina, and creativity and have been
condemned and banned as the corrupters of the body and mind and subverters of social
propriety and civil order. Through coffee and the coffeehouse, caffeine has altered
society and culture from the Middle East to Europe, America, and beyond, justifying
the fears of Islamic clerics and sultans and Western kings and police chiefs that the
institutions purveying caffeine would undermine the stability and insularity of social
and political order and religious practice. Through tea, teaism, and the afternoon tea,
caffeine has subtly shaped the spiritual and aesthetic ideals of the Orient and given the
British Empire, the most extensive imperial realm the world has ever seen, a universal
symbol of civility, restraint, refinement, and social order. Through caffeinated soft
drinks, caffeine has perfected its conquest of humanity, extending its community of
users to children.
What powers or properties of caffeine have enabled it to exert such a broad influence
on human history?
For one thing, caffeine is an intoxicant. As Freud observes in Civilization and Its
Discontents (1930), man averts suffering by means of the enjoyment of four things: the
enjoyment of illusions, or what Coleridge called “the willing suspension of disbelief”;
the enjoyment of beauty, which beauty, we have been told by Keats, is “a joy forever”;
the enjoyment of what we can have instead of the pursuit of the unattainable, which is
called “displacement”; and, lastly, the enjoyment of intoxicants, or chemical
intoxication. Freud might therefore have responded to the question “Why do people
take drugs?” with the reply “Why not?” For it should come as no surprise that if
caffeine, as an intoxicant, answers essentially to man’s quest for happiness, it should be
among the general pleasures of mankind.
What this observation leaves unaddressed is why caffeine should have emerged so
recently from the large, diverse collection of available intoxicants to become both the
most popular drug on earth, used regularly by more than 90 percent of everyone alive,
and the most inconspicuous as well. For caffeine is as unnoticed as it is ubiquitous,
suffusing our systems unremarked, despite its presence in our bodies from birth (and
even before birth) through childhood, adulthood, and old age.1
Because the nature and extent of caffeine’s effects are widely variable among
different people and in the same person at different times, different people use caffeine
for different reasons, and the same person uses caffeine for different reasons at different
times. This diversity of effects and purposes may be one reason caffeine is the most
popular drug on earth. But this same diversity also suggests that a complete
understanding of caffeine will elude us until we have fully disentangled the
complexities of human life itself.
Of course, caffeine comes to us accompanied by delights beyond its power to
intoxicate: the sensual appeal of its most commonly enjoyed vehicles, coffee, tea, and
chocolate. And caffeine itself should not be overlooked as an important component of
their taste. The taste threshold for caffeine, that is, the minimum concentration at which
it can be detected by the tongue (about .02 mM/L [millimole per liter]), is the same
order of magnitude as actually found in a cup of coffee. However, caffeine’s
contribution to the taste of coffee and other beverages is greater than this number
suggests, because, at levels far below the threshold of perception, caffeine affects the
taste of sweet, bitter, and salty foods or drinks, and therefore affects the overall taste
mix of coffee’s and tea’s many flavoring components. In this book we have not
discussed the art of beverage preparation, except as an aside, preferring to follow the
disclaimer found in A Compleat History of DRUGGS, in which the early-eighteenth-
century author, speaking of recipes for chocolate, explains:
I did not think it proper to give you the Composition here, since there are so many
Books that treat of it, and the Compositions are so various, that every one is for
pleasing his own Fancy.2
We have discussed what we think constitutes the most important reason for caffeine’s
prominence in the modern world: It gives men the power to regulate their biological
systems so as to make them more conformable with the demands of exacting and highly
integrated schedules. Perhaps another reason for caffeine’s enduring appeal is that, as
compared with many other intoxicants, it is mild and benign. Although it can produce
undesirable effects, from jitteriness and insomnia to withdrawal headaches and
sleepiness, few people, as far as we know, find their health broken by caffeine use, and
few lose their jobs, families, or fortunes because of excessive caffeine consumption. Of
course part of the difference between caffeine and stronger, more dangerous drugs is
simply a legal artifact. No one really knows to what extent caffeine use would follow
the patterns of the abuse of other drugs if it were to join them as a controlled or illegal
substance, or, conversely, to what extent the patterns of abuse of other drugs would
abate if they, like caffeine, were obtainable legally.
What is the future of the coffeehouse? All we can be certain of is that it has one and
will continue to have one. We recently read of two high school alumnae from
Philadelphia’s Main Line who met, for the first time in a decade, by chance in the
Pumpernickel Café in Kathmandu, Nepal. Can there be any doubt that, if and when
there are settlements on Mars, coffeehouses will be among the first amenities available
to the émigrés? The coffeehouse, which changes, adapts, and diversifies, merits
recognition as the most protean institution in history. In coffeehouses, men met and
plotted the American, French, Russian, and Chinese revolutions, dissected dolphins,
invented and wrote newspapers, underwrote international commerce, conducted love
affairs, and bandied and exchanged every sort of idea. In seventeenth- and
eighteenthcentury London, quack doctors treated patients and sold patent medicines at
the coffeehouses. In Los Angeles at the end of the millennium a young lawyer has
opened a coffeehouse in hope of practicing law there. To the concept of the tabula rasa,
the blank slate of the mind on which experience writes, an idea of Locke’s so favored
by the generation of Addison and Steele, who worked and played in the coffeehouses,
might be added the mensa rasa, the cleared table of the coffeehouse, across which every
sort of opinion might be sounded and every sort of person faced.
Chemical intoxicants have been widely enjoyed since the remotest prehistoric times.
We know that the production and consumption of alcohol from fermented plant matter
are universal practices and have either arisen independently or been adopted into every
place where human beings have lived. Yet the use of caffeine began to assert itself only
within historical times, emerging as a relatively localized practice, first documented as
coffee drinking in the Yemen, or as tea drinking in China and Japan, before suddenly
exploding over the entire surface of the globe within the last few hundred years. Most
cultivars, such as wheat, have been raised as long as they have been known, generally
long before the time of written records. Yet the caffeinated plants, which are by far the
largest cash crops on earth today, were still unknown within historical times, even in the
regions in which they are today often mistakenly imagined to have originated.
Whether, like coffee, which was brought by Gabriel as a medicinal gift for Solomon
or Mohammed, like tea, which was discovered by Shen Nung or carried by the
missionary Bodhidharma, or, like chocolate, which was brought by Quetzalcoatl from
heaven for the enjoyment of his people, the great caffeine-bearing plants were described
as gifts from the gods in the earliest cultures into which they are known to have been
introduced. The religious of many faiths have been repeatedly associated with the early
uses of caffeine and the cultivation and propagation of the plants in which it occurs, as
illustrated in examples such as the Sufis with coffee, the Buddhist monks with tea, the
Aztec god-king with chocolate, and the Jesuits with all three and maté as well.
The seeds or leaves of the caffeine-bearing plants have been recurringly used as
money, as cacao beans were by the Maya and Aztecs, cassine leaves by the North
American Indians, cola nuts by the Africans, coffee beans by the Arabs, and bricks of
tea by the Chinese and the Russians, a use that places them in the very small class of
negotiable substances such as gold, silver, and precious jewels.
Today, more than any time before, caffeine is the dominant, nearly universal drug of
the human race. It was in the steaming cups of coffee or tea that sat alongside the men
who created the first newspapers. It is in the steaming cups of coffee or . tea or, nearly
as often, in the cold colas or other carbonated soft drinks that sit by those who design
and use the Internet software and websites that are taking us into the third millennium.
Other drugs have had their days, for the use of many intoxicants is cyclic, rising and
falling over the decades and centuries. Certainly caffeine use has not remained constant,
nor can it be absolutely asserted that its use has demonstrated an unbroken increase in
every nation in every decade. Yet, during the five centuries since word of the
caffeinated beverages reached Europe, the coffee bean alone has come to account for a
greater share of international trade than any other agricultural commodity, and these
beverages have reached every quarter of every country on the earth. We can be fairly
certain that this ubiety is unlikely to be compromised in the new millennium. Indeed, if
our observations about the attractions of caffeine as a benign intoxicant and
conversational stimulant and its uses to help us conform to our schedules, increase our
physical and mental endurance, even spark our creative imaginations are correct, then
this strange crystal, which may have evolved as a natural insecticide, has a shining
future in the centuries ahead.
Selling the caffeinated beverages is and is likely to remain a great business. The cost
of the imported green beans in a cup of coffee, sold retail at between seventyfive cents
and five dollars, depending on where you buy it, is about seven cents. The cost of the
roasted, ground coffee in a cup is less than twenty cents.3 Few people, however, are
ever likely to shun the café because of the big markup in price.
Is caffeine safe? The answers given in part 5—“Nobody knows” or “It depends”—
are still the most accurate. As of this writing, caffeine appears to be remarkably
nontoxic and to have been associated with few, if any, large-scale health problems.
Unfortunately, in proportion to the extent of our exposure to caffeine, too little is yet
known about its health effects for smugness. For example, questions have recently
arisen again about whether caffeine increases the risk for developing high blood
pressure. And there is no question that more work must be done to determine its effects
on the fetus, in light of the fact that more than 75 percent of infants are born with
detectable amounts of caffeine in their blood.
Caffeine has played a part in medicine, religion, painting, poetry, learning, love, life,
and death. It figures prominently in the accords and enmities and the exchanges of trade
and intelligence that constitute the history and intercourse of nations; and it is also a
vitalizing and nearly indispensable agent in the singular lives of the overwhelming
majority of the world’s six billion people. Caffeine propels both idleness and industry.
In the coffeehouse, it feeds idleness, whether it is the productive idleness of talk of
politics, art, or social engagement, or the useless or even inimical idleness of gaming
and gossip; in the workplace, it fuels the mental and physical stimulation that make
possible long hours, punctuality, alertness, and alacrity; and in the studio, it stirs the
artist’s imagination and creative energies. And it does these things with little or no harm
to the prudent user. Of no other drug, nor any other agency known to man, can we say
the same.
apppendix a
The London Coffeehouse during the
Commonwealth and Restoration
The grain or berry called coffee, groweth upon little trees only in the deserts of Arabia.
It is brought from thence, and drunk generally throughout all the Grand Seignour’s
dominions. It is a simple, innocent thing, composed into a drink by being dried in an
oven, and ground to powder, and boiled up with spring water, and about half a pint of it
to be drunk fasting an hour before, and not eating an hour after, and to be taken as hot
as possibly can be endured; the which will never fetch the skin oft the mouth, or raise
any blisters by reason of that heat.
The Turks’ drink at meals and other times is usually water, and their diet consists much
of fruit; the crudities whereof are very much corrected by this drink.
The quality of this drink is cold and dry; and though it be a drier, yet it neither heats
nor inflames more than hot posset. It so incloseth the orifice of the stomach, and
fortifies the heat within, that it is very good to help digestion; and therefore of great use
to be taken about three or four o’clock afternoon, as well as in the morning. It much
quickens the spirits, and makes the heart lightsome; it is good against sore eyes, and the
better if you hold your head over it and take in the steam that way. It suppresseth fumes
exceedingly, and therefore is good against the head-ache, and will very much stop any
defluxion of rheums that distil from the head upon the stomach, and so prevent and help
consumptions and the cough of the lungs.
It is excellent to prevent and cure the dropsy, gout, and scurvy. It is known by
experience to be better than any other drying drink for people in years, or children that
have any running humours upon them, as the king’s evil, & tc. It is a most excellent
remedy against the spleen, hypochondriac winds, and the like. It will prevent
drowsiness, and make one fit for business, if one have occasion to watch, and therefore
you are not to drink of it after supper, unless you intend to be watchful, for it will hinder
sleep for three or four hours.
It is observed that in Turkey, where this is generally drunk, that they are not troubled
with the stone, gout, dropsy, or scurvy, and that their skins are exceeding clear and
white. It is neither laxative nor restringent.
Made and sold in St. Michael’s-alley, in Cornhill,
by Pasqua Rosee, at the sign of his own head.
Enter, Sirs, freely, but first, if you please, Peruse our civil orders, which are these.
The “Triumphs of London, 1675,” by Thomas Jordan (1612–85), English poet and
pamphleteer, was a poem celebrating the marvels of coffeehouse society, particularly as
the center of news, rumors, controversies, and the exchange of information. The lines
“So great an university,/I think there n’er was any;/In which you may a scholar be,/For
spending of a penny” were the origin of the famous coffeehouse epithet, “penny
university.”
. . .
In June 1667, after Charles II had spent the money allotted by Parliament for the
English navy on debauchery, Du Ruiter, a Dutch admiral, took advantage of the
vulnerability of the English position, blockading the Medway and Thames and
destroying fortifications as far as Chatham and Gravesend. General Monk and Prince
Rupert were then commanders of the English fleet. William Lilly (1602–1681), the
celebrated English astrologer during the Commonwealth, predicted a victory over
Charles I, which was regarded as fulfilled in the battle at Naseby. Jonathan Booker
(1603–1667), another English astrologer, was a fishing-tackle maker on Tower Street
during the reign of Charles I, before becoming a Cromwell partisan and winning
popular acclaim by foretelling “the downfall of King and Popery.” Turnbal, now called
Turnbull Street, had been a red-light district since Elizabethan times.
In his essay “London Coffee Houses in 1685,” Lord Thomas Babington Macaulay
(1800–1859), English historian, essayist, and statesman, celebrates the coffeehouses of
the Restoration, particularly Will’s, where the patrons converged from all quarters of
English society, and where intellectual conversations, such as discussions of Aristotle’s
requirement that the tragic drama be limited by the famous unities of place and time,
were common fare. Will’s was especially renowned as the favorite haunt of John
Dryden, the poet laureate, whose regular chair was moved from its place nearest the fire
in winter to the cool air of the balcony in summer:
Nobody was excluded from these places who laid down his penny at the bar. Yet every
rank and profession, and every shade of religious and political opinion had its own
headquarters.
There were houses near St. James’ Park, where fops congregated, their heads and
shoulders covered with black or flaxen wigs, not less ample than those which are now
worn by the Chancellor and by the Speaker of the House of Commons. The atmosphere
was like that of a perfumer’s shop. Tobacco in other form than that of richly scented
snuff was held in abomination. If any clown, ignorant of the usages of the house, called
for a pipe, the sneers of the whole assembly and the short answers of the waiters soon
convinced him that he had better go somewhere else.
Nor, indeed, would he have far to go. For, in general, the coffee-houses reeked with
tobacco like a guard room. Nowhere was the smoking more constant than at Will’s. That
celebrated house, situated between Covent Garden and Bow Street, was sacred to polite
letters. There the talk was about poetical justice and the unities of place and time.
Under no roof was a greater variety of figures to be seen. There were earls in stars and
garters, clergymen in cossacks and bands, pert Templars, sheepish lads from
universities, translators and index makers in ragged coats of frieze. The great press was
to get near the chair where John Dryden sate. In winter that chair was always in the
warmest nook by the fire; in summer it stood in the balcony. To bow to the Laureate,
and to hear his opinion of Racine’s last tragedy, or of Bossu’s treatise on epic poetry,
was thought a privilege. A pinch from his snuff-box was an honor sufficient to turn the
head of a young enthusiast.
There were coffee-houses where the first medical men might be consulted. Dr. John
Radcliffe, who, in the year 1685, rose to the largest practice in London, came daily, at
the hour when the Exchange was full, from his house in Bow street, then a fashionable
part of the capital, to Garraway’s, and was to be found, surrounded by surgeons and
apothecaries, at a particular table.
There were Puritan coffee-houses where no oath was heard, and where lank-haired men
discussed election and reprobation through their noses; Jew coffee-houses, where dark-
eyed money changers from Venice and Amsterdam greeted each other; and Popish
coffee-houses, where, as good Protestants believed, Jesuits planned over their cups
another great fire, and cast silver bullets to shoot the king.
appendix b
Supplementary Tables
Caffeine may make PMS worse, but, because PMS is known to be linked to low
calcium intake, depletion of the vitamin B complex, drops in serotonin levels,
inadequate exercise, and many other factors, simply abstaining from caffeine is unlikely
to allieviate all of its symptoms.
Preferred Agent
Desired Action
Sample Selection
Studies of the effects of caffeine consumption on reproductive hazards, including the
risk of delayed conception, spontaneous abortion, prematurity, low birthweight, and
major congenital malformations, multiplied like rabbits throughout the 1980s and
1990s. Although poor design has limited the value of many of them, the larger, more
probative studies generally demonstrate no correlation between caffeine use and
reproductive hazards of all kinds.2 Yet, as is true for the results of any epidemiological
studies, the value and weight of their conclusions depend on whether the people studied
were selected in a way that did not prejudice or distort the outcomes.
Unfortunately, defective sample selection is endemic to studies of caffeine and
human reproduction, in part because few researchers into reproductive hazards
undertake studies with caffeine or coffee as their primary initial interest. Many even
inquire about caffeine use only to divert attention from questions about other risk
factors such as cigarettes and alcohol. Such casual treatment of caffeine is possible—
and especially distressing—only because caffeine is so much a part of life that it is little
noticed and then often only as an afterthought.
Exposure
It is evident that an accurate assessment of exposure, that is, the amount of caffeine
consumed, is fundamental to any evaluation of a link between caffeine consumption and
health. In fact, precision in measuring exposure is essential, because a dose-response
relationship—that is, the tendency of increasing doses to elicit increasing responses—
strongly suggests a causal relationship and cannot be evaluated without it. If a low
exposure is correlated with low risk, moderate exposure with moderate risk, and high
exposure with high risk, scientists are more inclined to posit a corresponding cause-and-
effect connection. In the matter of adverse effects on pregnancy, such a relationship
would exist if those pregnant women who consume more caffeine were at a higher risk
for adverse effects than pregnant women who consume less, and it would lead us to
think that caffeine exposure is the cause for these untoward outcomes.
Laboratory control studies rely on a number of stratagems, such as using
decaffeinated coffee to which varying doses of caffeine have been added, to enable the
researchers to record the exact amount of caffeine consumed. For epidemiologists,
scientists who study the occurrence and causes of diseases in the field, however, it is
rarely a simple matter to determine how much caffeine subjects have used. Tea and
coffee cups commonly range from four to sixteen ounces.3 So long as estimates of
caffeine consumption are tied to coffee drinking, the wide variability of caffeine content
in the beans and of roasting and brewing methods, which reflect regional variations and
personal preferences, will limit the ability of epidemiologists to determine the actual
levels of caffeine consumption. An additional problem is the unreliability of
questionnaire answers, which may underestimate or overestimate intake. For example,
in a recent breast cancer study in which records of caffeine consumption were kept and
compared with later recollections of that consumption, it was found that the women
studied reported an average of 75 mg a day less caffeine than they had actually
ingested, while the women serving as controls underreported their consumption by only
40 mg a day.4 In another study, pregnant controls were more likely to underreport
consumption than women who had miscarried.5 In any case, serum concentrations of
caffeine’s primary metabolites, such as paraxanthine, do not closely correspond with
questionnaire answers about caffeine consumption. Discrepancies may reflect errors in
recollection, varying methods of preparation, or differences in metabolic degradation
rates. It is evident that, to accurately gauge caffeine exposure, future researchers must
utilize not only questionnaires and cup counts, but biomarkers—that is, objective
measures of caffeine and its metabolites in the body—as well.
Measuring exposure to the fetus is especially difficult because the amount of caffeine
consumed and the speed at which it is metabolized vary throughout pregnancy. For
example, because of the nausea associated with the first six months of pregnancy,
consumption may be lower than usual during that period. Another confusing factor is
that it takes longer for the body to get rid of caffeine’s metabolites near the end of
pregnancy.6 Therefore, to avoid the unpleasant feelings associated with elevated blood
levels of caffeine’s metabolites, some women appear to reduce their consumption of
caffeinated drinks during pregnancy.
A different sort of problem arises when exposure to caffeine is measured but effects
of exposure to other drugs that may have been consumed along with it are overlooked.
Yet another confounding exposure may arise from neglect of non-dietary sources of
caffeine, such as over-the-counter and prescription medicines that people may not
realize contain caffeinated and so fail to report.
Confounding Variables
We have already noted ways in which hidden variables can baffle attempts to
understand the relationship between the use of caffeine and any given health outcome.
Epidemiologists call such variables “confounders” that, according to one researcher,
“plague the literature” about the link between caffeine and problems in human
reproduction. An example is the confounding variable of maternal age. Coffee
consumption tends to increase with age throughout the childbearing years and, at the
same time, the risk of many reproductive hazards also increases with age past 25 or 30.7
People who drink coffee differ in significant ways—over and beyond their use of
coffee—from those who do not, and those who drink a great deal of coffee differ from
those who drink less. Comparisons of health effects are particularly problematic
between members of these groups and people who do not use caffeine with respect to
any health-related variable.8 An example of material confusion results from the fact that
people who drink little or no coffee tend to use less tobacco and alcohol than those who
are heavy coffee drinkers. This kind of insidious confounder can easily engender false
claims of a causal connection between coffee or caffeine and health problems.9
notes
OVERVIEW
1. Henry Watts, ed., Dictionary of Chemistry, vol. I, p. 707.
2. John Evelyn, Works, note, p. 11.
3. Sir Richard Steele, Tatler, April 12, 1709.
PROLOGUE
1. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Versuch die Metamorphose der Pflanzen zu
erklären (Attempts to Illustrate the Metamorphosis of Plants). In this book Goethe takes
his place as a pioneer in the theory of evolution.
2. As P.Walden, in his essay “Goethe and Chemistry,” states, “At Weimar the time
had come for Goethe to reexamine his chemical knowledge and concepts, to transfer
them into the realm of practice and reality, simultaneously, however, to give them a
more solid theoretical foundation” (George Urdang, Goethe and Pharmacy, p. 15).
3. Fielding H.Garrison, History of Medicine, p. 262.
4. The singular distinction of Goethe’s fame is that the paradigm of the widely
celebrated writer began with him. Before Goethe, the authors of important books had
enjoyed respect, but they had never become personal heroes to a large public. Although
their works were honored, the authors themselves were uninteresting to the popular
imagination. But from the time his early novel The Sorrows of Young Werther instigated
suicides among teenagers across Europe, people everywhere became what we would
today call Goethe’s “fans.”
5. Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther, p. ix.
6. Berthold Anft, “Friedlieb Ferdinand Runge,” p. 574.
7. It is the use of “sleepy substance” as an explanatory mechanism for morphine that
Molière makes fun of in the Imaginary Invalid and that Nietzsche cites as typifying the
silliness of the empiricists’ arbitrary reifications.
8. We regret our inability to determine the first names of some of the scientists
mentioned in our book.
CHAPTER 1
coffee
1. Dr. William Adams, professor at the University of Kentucky and author of Nubia,
told us in an interview in 1997, “There is absolutely no evidence, textual or
archaelogical, of any use of coffee in Nubia or Abyssinia before modern times.”
2. For example, we have no accounts from the Crusaders (c. 1100–1300) that
mention encounters with coffee.
3. Reverend Doctor J.Lewis Krapf, Travels, Researches and Missionary Labours
During Eighteen Years Residence in Eastern Africa, p. 47.
4. James Bruce, Travels to Discover the Source of the Nile.
5. Perhaps, in addition to knowledge of the plant, the prerequisite for the spread of
coffee is the discovery of the methods of roasting and infusing the bean. People seem to
have entertained a limited inclination to chew the fruit, even when it had been kneaded
with lard or butter, and, although swilling heavily reboiled raw coffee and swallowing
the grounds gained a little more acceptance, roasting and infusion were the watershed
inventions that transformed coffee from a rank medicinal powder or murky sedimented
syrup into a beverage coveted for its flavor as well as its stimulating effects. Yet, in the
end, even this answer does not completely resolve the mystery, because the flesh of the
coffee berry is fragrant and good tasting and fully charged with caffeine. In fact, its
apparent appeal adds a puzzle: Why did the use of the bean spread, despite the dislike
expressed by so many for its taste, while the eating of the pleasant fruit remained a
localized curiosity?
6. William Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 8, quoting from Dufour’s translation.
7. Lenn E. Goodman, Avicenna, p. 36.
8. Ulla Heise, Coffee and Coffee-Houses, p. 11, quoting Liber canonis, Tractatus
secundus, 1608, chapter 90.
9. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 8.
10. William Gohlman, The Life of Ibn Sina, p. 36. Also see Goodman, Avicenna, p.
45, n. 13. The value of this resource, afterward destroyed by Suni zealots opposed to the
Sultan’s Shiite sympathies, should not be underestimated. In later life, Avicenna recalls
rooms full of books dedicated to each subject, ancient or modern, where he saw “books
whose titles are unknown to many, and which I never saw before or since.”
11. That a leading thinker such as Avicenna should have mentioned the coffee bean
and described some of its properties only deepens the mystery of the absence of any
further references for several hundred years.
12. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 8, quoting Leonhard Rauwolf, Aigentliche
beschreibung der Raisis so er vor diser zeit gegen auffgang inn die morgenlaender
vilbracht, Lauingen, 1582–83.
13. Giovanni Battista Montanus (1488–1551), Italian physician and classicist, tells us
in his Commentary that Avicenna wrote the Canon “because he saw that neither the
Greeks nor the Arabs had any book that would teach the art of medicine as an integrated
subject.” See Nancy Siraisi, Avicenna in Renaissance Italy, p. 20. See also, Goodman,
Avicenna, p. 47, n. 38.
14. Anonymous editor, Canon of Medicine, “Introduction,” no page, found in the
library of the University of Pennsylvania.
15. Francis Ross Carpenter, in The Classic of Tea, p. 35, referencing Reinaud,
Relations des Voyage fait par les Arabes et les Persans dans l’Inde et…la Chine, I,
1845, p. 40.
16. The Odyssey, translated by Samuel Butler, Book IV, lines 219–34. Pæeon was a
celebrated physician, mentioned also by Virgil and Ovid, with a truly upscale practice.
He treated the wounds which the gods received during the Trojan War. On his account,
physicians were sometimes called Poeeonii and medicinal herbs Poeeonoe herboe.
17. Robert Fitzgerald aptly translates the phrase as “an anodyne.”
18. Heinrich Eduard Jacob, Coffee: The Epic of a Commodity, p. 74, quoting Simon
André Tissot, Von der Gesundheit de Gelehrten, Leipzig, 1769.
19. Sir Henry Blount, A Voyage into the Levant, pp. 20–21.
20. See John DeMers, The Community Kitchen’s Complete Guide to Gourmet Coffee.
21. Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 44.
22. The Arab legends of the first encounter with coffee, invariably set in Ethiopia or
the Yemen, are often stocked with the full range of fabulous Oriental devices that are
the mark of Islamic legends. One of these, an entry in the Omar cycle, is, in particular,
worth our attention, and so begins
The Tale of Amorous Acolyte: A Giant Ghost, Swirling Water, a Beautiful Princess, and
the Coffee Tree
In the year 656 A.H. the mollah Schadheli, making his holy pilgrimage to Mecca in the
company of Omar, his disciple, came as far as the wilderness of Ousab, to the Emerald
Mountain. At once, he knew he would go no further.
“It is the will of Allah, blessed be his Name, that this very night I should die on this
mountain,” he told Omar. “When I am gone, a veiled personage will appear to you.
Take care to obey his commands!” So saying, Schadheli entered the cave, lay upon a
spread of cloth, and waited.
True to his word, as a religious man of honor, Schadheli died that night. Soon after,
Omar, leaving the side of the body to refresh himself with the night air, was startled by
a flash of light which, when his bedazzled eyes could again see, had left behind a giant
spectre draped in a white veil. Summoning his courage, Omar demanded that the figure
reveal his name. The phantom said nothing, but when he removed the veil, Omar
recognized his late master, grown to height of thirty feet.
The giant visage stamped his foot on the rocky ground, splitting it, and a fountain of
pure water burst from within the earth.
“Fill your bowl with water from this fountain,” the spirit told Omar, his ghostly form
already fading against the black desert sky and the jewel-like stars. Then, just before
vanishing, he added, “Carry the bowl towards Mocha while the water yet swirls!”
Omar turned southward and set out toward the famous port. After journeying for three
days and nights without food or sleep, holding the bowl before him and glancing
continually to see if the water still turned within, suddenly he noticed it had stopped
moving. When he looked up he saw that he had arrived in Mocha, where he soon
discovered the people were suffering greatly from a terrible plague. Omar’s prayers
cured all who came before him. His reputation for healing spread quickly among the
wise, reaching the ear of the vizier, a clever counselor to the Sultan. The Sultan, a
trusting man, had a beautiful daughter whom he loved above all things and who lay as if
dead within her chambers. He heeded his advisor by sending for the holy physician.
Omar cured the girl and, entranced by her loveliness, made love to her as soon as she
awoke.
With forbearance compelled by his gratitude for the city’s rescue, and with the
encouragement of his vizier, to whom Omar had given an amatory talisman (which
made him irresistible in love), the Sultan spared Omar’s life but exiled him back to the
wilds of Ousab, where, as before, the holy man was left with only herbs for food and a
cave for shelter.
Wearying of solitude and the barren waste, Omar cried out to his dead master, “Why
have you sent me on this circular and ill-fated journey?” As if in response, a small
green bird alighted in a nearby tree. When Omar came near, he saw the tree was
covered with green leaves, small white flowers, and bright red fruit. He filled a basket
with the berries, and later that night, when preparing to boil his dinner of herbs, he
thought to break open the fruit and toss the seeds into the pot in their stead. The result,
to his amazement and delight, was the aromatic and fortifying beverage we know today
as coffee.
Others say that Omar’s master gave him a small wooden ball which rolled of its own as
if alive, instructing him to scrabble after until it stopped moving. The ball led him to a
village where he effected cures by dispensing the boiled red berries of a stand of wild
coffee trees growing nearby.
23. Ralph S. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, p. 15.
24. Ibid., p. 14.
25. Ibid., p. 74.
26. The time of caffeine’s early proliferation was a turbulent one in the Yemen. The
Pashas of San’a, who ruled the tiny domain, were appointed by either the sultan of
Constantinople or the Ottoman Pasha in Cairo, depending on which of them had the
upper hand that particular year. Until 1547, control of the Yemeni port city of Aden was
contested between the Ottomans and the Portuguese, who had established bases on the
Abyssinian side of the Red Sea. Although the Ottomans briefly succeeded in closing off
trade from the area, within decades spices, especially pepper, were again reaching
Egypt by way of the Yemen and the ports of the Hijaz. The imams, or local chiefs,
enriched by trade and encouraged by ambitious Europeans, successfully contested
Ottoman authority in San’a, so the spice traffic flourished again. This traffic was
decisively and permanently rediverted only when the Dutch and English developed the
Cape route to the East in the seventeenth century. Fortunately for the Yemen’s economic
health, by that time coffee was already replacing spices as its most important item of
trade. See Kamal S.Salibi, A History of Arabia, p. 150.
27. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, p. 61.
28. The Bacchoe is a play which, as William Arrowsmith comments in his
introduction to his translation, is dimly reminiscent of the unsettling invasion of Hellas
by the cult of Dionysus, an occurrence with obvious parallels to the advent of the
coffeehouse culture in Islam.
29. One interesting detail of the testimony was a physician’s assertion that
Bengiazlah, a famous contemporary of Avicenna, had taught that, according to humoral
theory, coffee must be regarded as “hot and dry,” not as unwholesomely “cold and dry,”
as Beg’s witnesses claimed. Even at this early time, however, uncertainty prevailed
about the meaning of the reference, and coffee’s opponents answered that Bengiazlah
had not been speaking of coffee at all, but of a drink also known as “kahwe” but made
from a different plant.
30. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, p. 77.
31. Such references are scattered throughout Reis’ in die Morgenländer (Rauwolf’s
Travels), published at Frankfurt and Lauingen in 1582–83.
32. Joseph Walsh, Coffee: Its History, Classification, and Description, p. 7.
33. Ibid., p. 6.
34. Robert Nicol, A Treatise on Coffee: its properties and the best mode of keeping
and preparing it, pp. 11–12.
35. Maguelonne Toussaint-Samat, History of Food, p. 581.
36. Walsh, Coffee: Its History, p. 7.
37. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, p. 106, quoting Jaziri.
38. Ibid., p. 111, quoting Jaziri.
39. Ibid., p. 110, quoting Celibi.
40. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 30, quoting Jean La Roque, Voyage de L’Arabie
Heureuse, Paris, 1716.
41. Between 600 B.C. and A.D. 1900 the population of the Yemen remained almost
constant at about 2.5 million. It was called, together with Oman, Arabia Felix, or
“Fortunate Arabia” by the classical geographer Ptolemy. The Yemen’s moderate climate
contrasts with that of the barren interior of the Arabian peninsula, which Ptolemy called
Arabia Deserta, or “Desert Arabia,” and that of the Hijaz, which he called Arabia
Petroea, or “Stony Arabia.” Although only 10 percent of the total area of the peninsula,
the Yemen has consistently sustained about 50 percent of Arabia’s population since the
introduction of agriculture in the third millennium B.C. These circumstances have both
isolated the Yemen and helped define its identity, making it a kind of oasis of activity,
surrounded by the ocean on one side and desert on the other, relatively remote from the
major capitals of the world.
42. We can even surmise something about the date before which coffee could not
have come into great prominence in Islam from the absence of any mention of coffee or
coffeehouses by Antonio Menavino, who, in 1548, did not include coffee in a list of
drinks drunk by the Turks. Nor did Pierre Belon mention the plant in 1558 in his list of
Arabia’s plants.
43. Philippe Sylvestre Dufour, Traitez Nouveux & curieux Du Café, Du Thé et Du
Chocolate, p. 37.
44. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, pp. 81–82, quoting Pedro Teixeira, The Travels
of Pedro Teixeira.
45. Ibid., p. 81, quoting Jean de Thévenot, Suite de Voyage du Levant, Amsterdam,
1727.
46. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 82, quoting George Sandys.
47. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, p. 99, quoting Thévenot.
48. Carston Niebuhr, Travels through Arabia and other countries in the East, vol. I,
p. 126.
49. Ibid., p. 73.
50. W.B. Seabrook, Adventures in Arabia, p. 72.
51. Ibid., pp. 34–35.
52. Ibid., p. 108.
53. Ibid., pp. 172–73.
54. Alain Borer, Rimbaud in Abyssinia, p. 180.
55. Ibid., pp. 183–84.
56. Ibid., p. 186, quoting Arthur Rimbaud, letter to M. de Gaspary, Aden, November
9, 1887.
57. Edward Bramah, Tea & Coffee, p. 106.
58. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, p. 18.
59. This symbolic use of wine and intoxication is brilliantly exemplified in the
original Persian of the Rubaiyyat of Omar Khayaam. Although the poem was
hypnotically, musically, and sensually rendered into English by Fitzgerald, this familiar
version, steeped in the celebration of sexual and alcoholic dissipation, is a reflection
more of the hedonistic dream world of late Victorian repression in which the translator
lived than it is of the spiritual life of the tenth-century Sufi author. For a version that
purports to be truer to the original, see The Original Rubaiyyat of Omar Khayaam,
translated by Robert Graves and Omar Ali-Shah, Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1968.
60. Encyclopoedia Britannica, “Arabia” (Yemen: Arab Republic), vol. 10, p. 906.
61. Harper’s Weekly, New York, January 21, 1911.
62. Schapira et al., Book of Coffee and Tea, map, p. 79.
63. Krapf, Travels, Researches,p. 46.
CHAPTER 2
tea
1. Toussaint-Samat, History of Food, p. 605.
2. Quoted in Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 1.
3. Kit Chow and Ione Kramer, All the Tea in China, p. 2.
4. Quoted in Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 3.
5. Chow and Kramer, All the Tea in China, p. 3.
6. According to legend, Bodhidharma carried meditation too far, and his legs
atrophied from disuse and dropped off. For this reason, images of him are generally
legless and are sometimes called “snowmen.”
7. Lü Yu, Classic of Tea, p. 12.
8. Adapted from Carpenter, ibid., p. 15.
9. Schapira et al., Book of Coffee and Tea, p. 149.
10. Toussaint-Samat, History of Food, p. 596.
11. Schapira et al., Book of Coffee and Tea, p. 149.
12. Chow and Kramer, All the Tea in China, p. 3.
13. Schapira et al., Book of Coffee and Tea, p. 149.
14. Jennifer Anderson, Introduction to Japanese Tea Ritual, p. 21.
15. Lu Yü, Classic of Tea, p. 50.
16. This reference appears in Chang Yu-hsin’s book, A Record of Waters for Boiling
Teas.
17. Schapira et al., Book of Coffee and Tea, p. 150.
18. Lu Yü, Classic of Tea, p. 72.
19. Ibid., pp. 105–7.
20. Ibid., pp. 107–9.
21. Ibid., p. 116.
22. Kakuzo Okakura, The Book of Tea, p. 12.
23. Lu Yü, Classic of Tea, p. 17.
24. Rand Castile, The Way of Tea, p. 49.
25. Ibid., p. 30.
26. Okakura, The Book of Tea, p. 11.
27. Schapira et al., Book of Coffee and Tea, p. 148.
28. J. Anderson, Japanese Tea Ritual, p. 14.
29. Lu Yü, Classic of Tea, notes to p. 61, pp. 158–59.
30. J. Anderson, Japanese Tea Ritual, p. 17.
31. Ibid., p. 18.
32. Castile, The Way of Tea, p. 49.
33. J. Anderson, Japanese Tea Ritual, p. 21.
34. Toussaint-Samat, History of Food, p. 597.
CHAPTER 3
cacao
1. Marcia Morton and Frederic Morton, Chocolate: An Illustrated History, pp. 3–4.
2. Sophie Coe and Michael Coe, The True History of Chocolate, p. 73.
3. Morton and Morton, Chocolate, pp. 3–4.
4. Coe and Coe, True History, p. 78.
5. Ibid., p. 97.
6. Other explorers had the same experience. In The Conquest of New Spain, the
seventeenth-century explorer Bernal Diaz describes how the Aztecs “brought him in
cups of pure gold a drink made from the cocoa plant, which they said he took before
visiting his wives.”
7. Morton and Morton, Chocolate, p. 4.
8. Nelson Foster and Linda Cordell, ed., Chilies to Chocolate, p. 105.
9. Ibid. Yet there is the Spanish painting of the gifts of the Magi, done about 1501, in
which an American Indian is shown proffering a bowl of what looks like cacao.
10. Coe and Coe, True History, pp. 37–39. See also “Maya Writing,” David Stuart
and Stephen D.Houston, Scientific American, August 1989, pp. 82–89.
11. Foster and Cordell, Chilies to Chocolate, pp. 105–8.
12. Coe and Coe, True History, pp. 48–49. Also see David Stuart, “The Rio Azul
Cacao Pot: Epigraphic Observations on the Function of a Maya Ceramic Vessel,”
Antiquity 62 (1988): 153–157.
13. Which we assume were all criollo.
14. Coe and Coe, True History, p. 51.
15. Ibid., p. 87.
16. Ibid., p. 12, quoting Gage.
17. Ibid., pp. 11–12, quoting Gage.
CHAPTER 4
monks and men-at-arms
1. Coe and Coe, True History, p. 107. The Coes point out that the money reference
was an interpolation found in the Italian edition but not in the lost original. The Coes’
quotation is adapted from Samuel Morison, Journals and Other Documents on the Life
and Voyages of Christopher Columbus, New York: Heritage Press, 1963, p. 327.
2. Barbara Grunes and Phyllis Magida, Chocolate Classics, p. 3.
3. Benjamin Moseley, A Treatise Concerning the Properties and Effect of Coffee, p.
40. We note that a different answer to a similar question about coffee’s permissibility
during a time of fasting was reached in Turkey. According to Moseley, “The Turks who
frequently subsist a considerable time upon Coffee only, look on it as an aliment that
affords great nourishment to the body:—for which reason, during the rigid fast of the
Ramadam, or Turkish Lent, it is not only forbid, but any person is deemed to have
violated the injunctions of his Prophet, that has had even the smell of Coffee.”
4. Grunes and Magida, Chocolate Classics, p. 3.
5. Morton and Morton, Chocolate, p. 15.
6. Coe and Coe, True History, p. 156.
7. Henry Phillips, The Companion for the Orchard, p. 67.
8. OED, “cacao,” quoting Blundevil, Exerc. V. Ed. 7, p. 568.
9. Jill Norman, Coffee, pp. 10–11.
10. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 53.
11. Wolfgang Schivelbusch, Tastes of Paradise, p. 92.
12. Norman, Coffee, pp. 11–12.
13. Ibid., p. 14.
CHAPTER 5
the caffeine trade supplants the spice trade
1. Quoted in Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 24. This account is found in Samuel
Purchas, Purchas His Pilgrimes, London, 1625.
2. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 31. Linschoten’s book may have been the
source for a common European belief that tea tenderizes meat, which became prevalent
over a century later.
3. Nicol, A Treatise on Coffee, p. 121. Also see Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 43
4. Denys Forrest, Tea for the British, pp. 19–21.
5. Vieussens, the first physician to perform chemical examination of the blood, the
only Parisian follower of Sylvius, the great Dutch champion of Harvey and caffeine,
also suffered condemnation by the Paris Faculty.
6. Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 33.
7. Ibid., vol. II, p. 487.
8. Ibid., vol. I, p. 72.
9. Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 43.
10. Jardin Edelestan, Le Caféier et le Café, p. 16.
11. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 87, who also mentions an admittedly unconfirmed
account that, under the reign of Louis XIII, coffee was sold by a Levantine in the Petit
Chatelet, as cohove or cahoue.
12. Disraeli explains, “It appears…that Thévenot, in 1658, gave coffee after dinner;
but it was considered as the whim of a traveller; neither the thing itself, nor its
appearance, was inviting: It was probably attributed by the gay to the humour of a vain,
philosophical traveller. But ten years afterwards, a Turkish ambassador at Paris made
the beverage highly fashionable. The elegance of the equipage recommended to the eye,
and charmed the women: the brilliant porcelain cups in which it was poured; the
napkins fringed with gold, and the Turkish slaves on their knees presenting it to the
ladies, seated on the ground on cushions, turned the heads of the Parisian dames” (Isaac
Disraeli, Curiosities of Literature, vol. II, p. 321).
13. In 1692, Damame Francois, a Parisian merchant, became the man to see about
caffeine after receiving a royal patent to sell coffee and tea in France, which was to be
exclusive throughout the nation for ten years.
14. He continues, “Members of good society in Paris did not then visit houses of
public entertainment.” Jacobs, Epic of a Commodity, p. 83.
15. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 95.
16. Quoted in Jacobs, Epic of a Commodity, p. 136.
17. Alfred Franklin, “Le café, le the, et le chocolat,” in Arts et métiers de Parisiens
du XII au XVIII siecle, Paris, 1893.
18. In 1664, because of the astonishing arrival of four thousand French troops, when
Louis XIV had sent in support of his fellow Christians despite his treaty with
Mohammed IV, the Turks withdrew from Vienna’s walls. Although the Turks had
suffered defeat in battle, the terms of their retreat, according to which they assumed
control of Hungary, were extremely favorable. What Suleiman Aga learned in Paris
served to deter any further reliance on the Sun King. In 1683, the Turkish Janissaries
were joined at the walls of Vienna by no French troops, whose arrival, had it suited
Louis’s whim to have sent them, would most certainly have reversed the defeat
generally acknowledged to have marked the beginning of the decline of the Ottoman
Empire. Louis XIV continued his remarkable flipflopping, in 1684 signing a treaty with
Leopold I of Austria and in 1688 sending troops against him just as he had done against
the Turks.
19. Heise, Coffee and Coffee-Houses, p. 16.
20. Harold B. Segel, The Vienna Coffeehouse Wits: 1890–1938, pp. 8–9, citing Karl
Teply, Die Einfuhrung des Kaffees in Wien: Georg Franz Kolschitzky, Johannes
Diodato, Isaak de Luca (Vienna, Kommissionsverlag Jugend und Volk Wien-Munchen,
1980).
21. Heise, Coffee and Coffee-Houses, pp. 103–5
22. Manfred Hamm, Coffee Houses of Europe, p. 9.
23. Harry Rolnick, The Complete Book of Coffee, p. 142.
24. Quoted in Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, pp. 31–32.
25. Casper David Friedrich, Briefen und Bekenntnissen, ed. Sigrid Hinz, Berlin,
1974, p. 35.
CHAPTER 6
the late adopters
1. Heise, Coffee and Coffee-Houses, p. 58, quoting Aton Schindler, Biographic von
Ludwig van Beethoven, Leipzig, 1970, p. 436.
2. Germany has a well-deserved reputation for lagging behind in the European
cultural, intellectual, artistic, and social movements that, eventually, are adopted by her
as surely as they already have been by the rest of Europe, and she made no exception in
her tardiness in taking up caffeine. Gilbert Highet in his brilliant tome The Classical
Tradition (Oxford, 1949) theorized that the power of Luther’s faith forestalled the
development of reasoned natural istic inquiry in Germany. In consequence, Germany
never experienced what in other European nations was called the Renaissance, or at
least did not do so until long after the others, so that in that country the Renaissance
overlapped the Romantic period. Goethe, for example, is only properly understood as
both a Renaissance and a Romantic figure.
3. Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 55.
4. Ibid., p. 61.
5. Ibid., p. 60.
6. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 41.
7. Heise, Coffee and Coffee-Houses, p. 9, quoting Adam Olearius, Vermehrte newe
Beschreibung der Muscowitisch und Persischen Reyse (Schleswig, 1656).
8. Ibid., p. 15.
9. Ibid., p. 17, quoting Journal, number 25, 1686, Frankfurt.
10. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 42.
11. Quoted in Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 151.
12. Ibid., p. 150.
13. Schivelbusch, Paradise, p. 92.
14. Hamm, Coffee Houses of Europe, pp. 131–32.
15. Quoted in Morton, Chocolate, p. 67. The war against beer was still being waged.
Goethe was a partisan of the temperance beverages. He wrote to Karl Ludwig von
Knebel (1744–1844), a poet, translator, philologist, and tutor to the princes at the
Weimar court, “If our people continue swilling beer and smoking as they now do for
another three generations, woe to Germany! The effect will first become noticeable in
the stupidity and poverty of our literature, at which our descendants will declare
themselves greatly astonished!” (Adapted from quotation in Jacob, Coffee: The Epic of
a Commodity, p. 59.)
16. Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 31.
17. Ibid., p. 32.
18. Chow and Kramer, All the Tea in China, p. 16.
19. Ukers, All about Tea, vol. II, p. 96.
CHAPTER 7
judgement of history
1. Even chocolate was first offered for sale in North America by a Boston pharmacist
in 1712, and its trade remained in the hands of apothecaries for many years. Norman,
Coffee, p. 14.
2. In fact, inebriation is a function of blood-alcohol levels that can be reduced only
by metabolization of alcohol by the liver. Drinking coffee cannot make you less drunk;
it can only make you more wide awake, while you remain as drunk as before.
3. Norman, Coffee, p. 22.
4. Ibid., p. 23.
5. Quoted in Schivelbusch, Paradise, p. 23.
6. Ibid., p. 35.
7. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 21, quoting Reis’ in die Morgenländer (Rauwolf’s
Travels in the Orient), published at Frankfort and Lauingen in 1582–83. Another
translation of parts of the same passage reads:
Among others there is an excellent drink which they greatly esteem. They call it
“Chauve.” It is almost as black as ink, and is a valuable remedy in disorders of the
stomach. The custom is to drink it early in the morning, in public places, quite openly,
out of earthenware or porcelain cups. They do not drink much at a time, and, having
drunk, walk up and down for a little, before sitting down together in a circle. The
beverage is made by adding to boiling water the fruit which they call “bunnu,” which in
size and color resembles laurel berries, the kernel being hidden away between two thin
lobes of fruit… The use of the drink is so general that there are many houses which
make a practice of supplying it ready prepared; and also, in the bazaars, merchants who
sell the fruit are plentiful. (Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 42)
It is interesting that Rauwolf mentions both the Arabic word for the beverage as well as
the Ethiopian name for the fruit, if we assume, with him, that bunnu is a variant of
bunc.
8. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 8.
9. Simon Pauli, Commentarius de Abusu Tabaci et Herbae Thee, etc., pp. 166–67.
10. Ibid., pp. 112–13.
11. He asserts that betony “cures no les that forty-seven Disorders… The Asiatic Tea
is therefore far inferior to the European Betony” “He has as many virtues as betony” is
still a common proverb in Spain. It was commonly supposed that, like the caffeinated
beverages, betony could also induce intoxication, and, when dried and powdered as
snuff, immoderate sneezing.
Turner in his British Physician (1687) wrote of betony:
It would seem a miracle to tell what experience I had of it. This herb is hot and dry,
almost to the second degree, a plant of Jupiter in Aries, and is appropriated to the head
and eyes, for the infirmities where of it is excellent, as also for the breast and lungs;
being boiled in milk, and drunk, it takes away pains in the head and eyes. Some write it
will cure those that are possessed with devils, or frantic, being stamped and applied to
the forehead. (Quoted in Pamela Todd, Forget-Me-Not, p. 157.)
12. Quoted in Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 30, Commentarius de Abusu Tabaci et
Herbae Thee, Rostock, Germany, 1635.
13. Pauli, Commentarius, pp. 169–70
14. Quoted in Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, pp. 31–32. This physician is immortalized
in Rembrandt’s painting Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp.
15. Garrison, History of Medicine, p. 262.
16. Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 32, citing Buntekuh, Tractat van het Excellente
Cruyt Thee, The Hague, 1679.
17. Will and Ariel Durant, The Age of Louis XIV, p. 412.
18. Descartes’ mechanistic model of the universe, one of the most celebrated ideas of
the day, was, to its scientifically minded proponents, well exemplified on a small scale
by Harvey’s biometric demonstration of the circulation of the blood.
19. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 28, quoting Jean La Roque, Voyage de L’Arabie
Heureuse, Paris, 1716.
20. Ibid., p. 28.
21. Quoted in Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, pp. 71–72.
22. The need for this book is demonstrated by another title that came out the same
year in Lyon, The Most Excellent Virtues of the Mulberry, Called Coffee.
23. Nicol, Treatise on Coffee, pp. 21–22.
24. Octave Guelliot, Treatise Du Caféisme Chronique, p. 33.
25. Daniel Duncan, Wholesome Advise against the Abuse of Hot Liquors, p. 1.
26. Ibid., p. 5.
27. Ibid., pp. 11–12.
28. The truly revolutionary aspect of Harvey’s discovery was not, however, the
observation that the blood circulated. It was his demonstration of this fact by using
quantitative or mathematical measures. Garrison, History of Medicine, p. 247.
29. Sherwin Nuland, Doctors: The Biography of Medicine, p. 126.
30. Heise, Coffee and Coffee-Houses, pp. 15–16.
31. Harvey apparently picked up one other cultural influence from his Islamic
schoolmates. As Aubrey tells us: “He would say that we Europeans knew not how to
order or governe our Woemen, and that the Turks were the only people used them
wisely. I remember he kept a pretty young wench to wayte on him, which I guesse he
made use of for warmeth-sake as King David did, and tooke care of here in his Will, as
also of his man servant.” Aubrey, Brief Ltves, p. 131.
32. Quoted in John Ovington, Essays upon the Nature and Qualities of Tea, pp. 31–
32.
33. Ibid., pp. 20–22.
34. Ibid., p. 31.
35. Ibid., pp. 38–39. Frederick Slare (1647–1727), an English physician and chemist,
was one of those rare unfortunates, like the twentieth-century researcher Hayreh, with
whom coffee violently disagreed. Moseley asserts that Slare’s problems with coffee
were only the result of his excessive consumption, a point with which Slare might not
have entirely disagreed:
Nor do I decry and condemn Coffee, though it proved very prejudicial to my own
health, and brought paralytic affections upon me. I confess, in my younger days, I
ignorantly used it in too great excess; as many daily do make use of this, and other
Indian drinks; though I have quite abandoned it for above thirty years, and soon
recovered the good tone of my nerves, which continue steady to this day; yet I must
own, Coffee to some people is of good use, when taken “in just proportion, &c.” It is
true that they (Indian drinks) do not agree with all constitutions, with some, only one of
these entertaining liquids, as Green Tea; and with others, all of them disagree. (Quoted
in Moseley, Effects of Coffee, footnote, pp. 59–60.)
36. Unfortunately coffeehouses themselves had become waiting and examination
rooms for quack practitioners.
37. Pierre Pomet, Lemery, and Tournefort, A Compleat History of DRUGGS, pp. 87–
89.
38. Ibid., p. 130.
39. Ibid., p. 131.
40. Walter Baker and Company, Chocolate Plant, p. 12, quoting Thomas Gage, New
Survey of the West Indies (1648).
41. Anonymous, Essay on the Nature, Use, and Abuse of Tea: In a letter to a lady:
with an account of its mechanical operation, pp. 14– 15.
42. Phillips, Orchard, p. 68.
43. “The Spanish ladies make use of the oil drawn from the cacao-nut, as a good
cosmetic to soften and smooth the skin, as it does not render it greasy or shiny, being a
quicker drier and without smell” (Ibid.). Most people might assume that the cosmetic
benefits of cacao oil, such as they might be, have nothing to do with caffeine, but
certain recent studies suggest that caffeine may be effective as a topical treatment of
atopic dermatitis, so perhaps the Spanish ladies knew something that it has taken
medical science two hundred years to discover.
44. Quoted in Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 73.
45. Ibid., p. 74.
46. Quoted in Schivelbusch, Paradise, p. 48.
47. Ibid., p. 48.
48. Moseley, Effects of Coffee, pp. 53–54.
49. Ibid., pp. 27–29.
50. The most obvious beneficial effects of caffeine are clearly being designated,
however unwit tingly, in the following passage:
Long watching and intense study are wonderfully supported by it, and without the ill
consequences that succeed the suspension of rest and sleep, when the nervous influence
has nothing to sustain it.
We are told that travellers in Eastern Countries and Messengers who are sent with
dispatches, perform their tedious journeys by the alternate effects of Opium and Coffee;
—and that the dervies and religious zealots, in their abstemious devotions, support their
vigils, through their nocturnal ceremonies, by this exhilarating liquor. (Ibid.)
51. Ibid., pp. 41–47.
52. Ibid., pp. 68–69.
53. Martin Gardener, Fads and Fallacies in the Name of Science, pp. 187–90.
54. Schivelbusch, Paradise, p. 43.
55. Samuel Hahnemann, Der Kaffee in seinen Wirkungen, Leipzig, 1803, quoted in
Schivelbusch, ibid.
56. John Cole, Esq., “On the Deleterious Effects Produced by Drinking Tea and
Coffee in Excessive Quantities,” Lancet 2 (1833): 274– 78.
57. OED, “Caffeine.”
58. Cole, Deleterious Effects, p. 278. Notice the use of the diasthenic notion of
disease and the mechanism by which caffeine produces illness in the organism. In 1905,
Starling coined the term hormone, from the Greek “hormon,” or “impelling,” and
originated the conception of hormones as chemical messengers, carried by the
bloodstream to sites where they control bodily processes. In consequence of Starling’s
idea, dynamic metabolic theories progressively supplanted earlier diasthentic theories of
pathology, which had referred illness to permanent structural or constitutional
predispositions or tendencies of the body, either hereditary or acquired, that rendered it
liable to certain special diseases.
59. Honoré de Balzac, Traité des Excitants Modernes, unpublished translation by
Robert Onopa.
60. Arnaud Baschet, Honoré de Balzac: Essai sur l’Homme et sur l’Oeuvre, Paris:
Giraud et Dagneau, 1852; Geneva: Slatkin, 1973. Quoted in Graham Robb, Balzac: A
Biography, p. 401.
CHAPTER 8
postscript
1. We know that, in the context of religious devotions, the Buddhists of China and the
Sufis of Arabia had each relied on their own caffeinated beverage to help them conform
to the discipline of prayer and meditation. Perhaps Europe encountered the need for a
corresponding discipline in a civil context, with the advent of machines and the
industrial age.
In the fifteenth century people still usually judged the time by the height of the sun or
the positions of the stars. But as the seventeenth century wore on, the entire continent
ran increasingly by the clock, and caffeine is the indispensable analeptic that allowed
men to live by the clock, to knit their working lives together and engage each other as
cogs engage in a machine.
2. The Egyptians used sundials and clepsydrae, or water clocks, from about 1500
B.C., and the same rude instruments, or refinements of them, were relied on by every
subsequent civilization until the invention of the accurate mechanical clock. This
invention occurred in the eighth century in China and in a different form and not until
the sixteenth century in Europe.
The hours themselves varied in length by design in the ancient world. Their hour was
not of the astronomical day, as it is for us, but of the actual time from sundown to
sunrise. The length of the ancient hour changed with the season, equally between ¾ and
of a modern hour. Among the Greeks, the sun during the day and the stars during the
night were used to estimate these hours. Thus time, in the millennia before the invention
of accurate mechanical clocks, was reckoned by rough estimates, so that “The length of
a man’s shadow indicated the progress of the day.”
3. Hugh Tait, Clocks and Watches, p. 18.
4. Perhaps a coincidence? Consider that, as noted above, the sophisticated
mechanical clock was first invented and used in China in the Han dynasty in the eighth
century, exactly the time at which Lu Yü wrote The Classic of Tea and tea became a
dominant force in Chinese culture. And, although not even the practical wheel, much
less the mechanical clock, were known to the Maya in pre-Columbian days, these
American methylxanthine pioneers are famous for their complex calendric calculations
and have been often and justly called the people “obsessed with time.”
5. In 1657, Saloman Coster, a clockmaker in the employ of Christian Huygens
(1629–95), the Dutch polymath and celebrated rival of Newton, was the first to use the
revolutionary pendulum mechanism to regulate a clock. The next year Huygens, whose
attainments encompassed music, mechanics, astronomy, mathematics, and physics,
published the first rigorous treatment of the pendulum mechanism and included detailed
plans for constructing the pendulum clock. The reason the advent of this mechanism
constituted such a critical advance is well explained in Tait’s meticulously researched
and abundantly illustrated Clocks and Watches:
The pendulum has inherent timekeeping properties because it is restored by gravity.
Whereas the foliot and balance will remain in whatever position they may be in when
they come to rest, the pendulum will always come to rest in the one position, the point
in the arc where the pendulum bob is at its lowest, because of the force of gravity. By
successfully applying a clock mechanism to keep the pendulum swinging, to count its
swings, and translate them into hours and minutes on the dial, Christian Huygens made
possible the production of clocks that were far more consistent timekeepers. Because
the pendulum is subject to the physical law of gravity, it, unlike the foliot and balance,
is less dependent on variations of force within the clockwork. (p. 51)
6. Caffeine and the Machine
I sing the body electric…
Walt Whitman
Perhaps the profile of caffeine’s cognitive effects is one reason that its use has expanded
so dramatically since the advent of the scientific and industrial age. Caffeine seems to
help biological systems, like people, to functionally conform with mechanical or
electronic systems, such as industrial machines or computers. Some have a dour view of
the resulting congruity. A more balanced view might encompass not only the indignities
and inconveniences of finely regulated and cooperative economic lives, but also
recognize the tremen dous wealth, an abundance unimaginable in preindustrial,
preurban centuries, that has been made possible only by a general ability of people to,
in certain limited ways, function together like parts of a great machine. Without
caffeine, many of the complex and farreaching achievements of modern civilization
could not have been realized. To those who malign the rigors and exigencies of
contemporary work life, we commend this comment by Freud: “I find it a constant
surprise, that, little as people are capable of existing in isolation, they nonetheless resent
and feel as a heavy burden the cooperation and compromises that civilization demands
of them.”
7. Brian Harrison, Drink and the Victorians, p. 40.
8. Phillips, Orchard, p. 67, writes that chocolate “is esteemed the most restorative of
all aliments, insomuch that one ounce of it is said to nourish as much as a pound of
beef,” and tells of a friend who, “during the retreat of Napoleon’s army from the North,
he fortunately had a small quantity of little chocolate cakes in his pockets, which
preserved the life of himself and a friend for several days, when they could procure no
other food whatever, and many of their brother officers perished for want.”
9. Philip Morrison, review of The Little Ice Age, by Jean M.Grove, Methuen & Co.
Ltd., Scientific American, May 1989, p. 142.
10. Ibid. Records demonstrate that, on either side of the North Atlantic, there was no
climatic summer in 1816, resulting in the general destruction of corn and low yields of
other crops, and subjecting the populations of Europe to what has been termed “the last
great subsistence crisis in the Western world.”
PART III
introduction
1. Although informality and strenuous work are generally associated with coffee, just
as ceremony and leisure are generally associated with tea, the Arabs of Cairo, at least,
have reversed this pattern. In that city, much after the fashion of the Bedouins, coffee
drinking is a complicated social affair, its forms reflecting the status of the host, his
guests, political affiliations, offering a formal setting for exchanging information,
telling stories, and resolving arguments. However, tea drinking is a much more casual
undertaking and, in addition, tea, not coffee, is the stimulant preferred by laborers. As
Louis Vaczek and Gail Buckland tell us, speaking of nineteenth-century practices in
their book Travellers in Ancient Lands: “This beverage too was brewed so strong that
the caffeine and tannin in a thimble-sized glass were enough to jolt one’s system
heartily. Boiled black tea, in fact, became the standard drug for heavy laborers, who
stopped regularly to ease their exhaustion and hunger with gulps of syrupy, revitalizing
black tea” (p. 162).
CHAPTER 9
islands of caffeine(1)
1. Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 8.
2. Ibid., p. 9.
3. Daisetz T. Suzuki, Zen and Japanese Culture, p. 293.
4. The tea ceremony itself can be illuminated for Western readers by comparing it
with the dialectical method of Socrates. In the dialectic of Socrates, the goal was
similar: to treat of the ordinary aspects of life with the hope of achieving an
understanding beyond imagination (eikasia), sense perception (pistis), and even reason
(dianoia), to reach an intuitive understanding of the Forms, the illumination of the soul
that Plato called noesis. Like the Bodhisattva of Buddhist tradition, who after his
enlightenment returns from the Void to lead his fellow creatures on the Path away from
suffering, the philosopher of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, after escaping to see the
world illuminated by the light of the Good, returns to teach the way of liberation to his
still ignorant compatriots. (Plato does not use these four words for the degrees of
knowing consistently throughout the Republic. However, this is the scheme he sets up
to accompany the Allegory of the Cave.)
5. Suzuki, Zen and Japanese Culture, pp. 272–73.
6. Ibid., p. 302.
7. Adapted from translation quoted in Okakura, The Book of Tea, p. 65. Rikyu’s
valediction was actually two poems, one Japanese and one Chinese, which Okakura has
blended together.
8. Horst Hammitzsch, Zen in the Art of the Tea Ceremony, p. 31.
9. Ibid., p. 31
10. Alan Watts, The Way of Zen, p. 190.
11. Ibid., p. 194.
12. Okakura, Book of Tea, p. xi.
13. Ibid., p. 2.
14. Ibid., p. 7.
15. Ibid., p. 5.
16. Ibid., p. 7.
17. Ibid.
18. A. Watts, Way of Zen, p. 190.
19. Although several Europeans have prior claims, around 1900 Dr. Sartori Kato, a
JapaneseAmerican dentist, is credited with developing an early form of soluble, or
instant, coffee.
20. Boye De Mente, The Whole Japan Book, p. 300.
21. Harry Rolnick, The Complete Book of Coffee, p. 37.
22. David Landau, “Specialty Coffee and Japan,” Coffee Talk Magazine, September
1995.
CHAPTER 10
island of caffeine (2)
1. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 31.
2. Ibid., p. 33.
3. Ibid., p. 35, quoting Francis Bacon, Sylva Sylvarum, vol. 5, p. 26, London, 1627.
4. Quoted in Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 44.
5. An example of this judgment is found in Bacon’s Advancement of Learning, in
which the author describes doctors as men who, frustrated by their incapacity to
succeed in any other field of study, took up medicine as a last resort.
6. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 53.
7. John Evelyn, Works, note, p. 11. More frequently quoted are Evelyn’s words from
an earlier edition: “He was the first I ever saw drink Coffe, which custome came not
into England til 30 years after.” Most commentators, following Ukers, explain that
Evelyn must have meant “thirteen years” and not “thirty,” because the first coffeehouse
in England opened in 1650. However, it is more plausible that Evelyn was referring not
to the opening of a single coffeehouse when he speaks of the “custom” of drinking
coffee, but instead the time when coffee drinking became a common enjoyment
throughout the country.
8. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 36, quoting Anthony Wood, Athenae Oxiensus, vol. 2,
col. 658, London, 1692.
9. Oliver Lawson Dick, Aubrey’s Brief Lives, p. 1, note viii.
10. Aytoun Ellis, The Penny Universities: A History of the Coffee-Houses, p. 18.
11. Ibid., p. 24
12. “The Trade of News also was scarce set up; for they had only the publick
Gazette, till Kirk got a written news letter circulated by one Muddiman. But now the
case is much altered; for it is become a custom, after Chapel, to repair to one or other of
the Coffee Houses (for there are diverse) where Hours are spent in talking, and less
profitable reading of News Papers, of which swarms are continually supplied from
London. And the Scholars are so Greedy after News (which is none of their business)
that they neglect all for it…a vast loss of Time grown out of a pure Novelty; for who
can apply close to a subject with his Head full of the Din of a Coffee House?” (Ibid., p.
27).
Muddiman was an ex-schoolmaster turned journalist, a man with an unsavory
reputation. In Cambridge, in 1659, he started Newsbook, a sixteen-page newspaper that
was distributed at Kirk’s coffeehouse, and he was also employed by the Commonwealth
to help regulate the coffeehouse keepers, for whom the Puritans had little affection. In
fact, Cromwell had overcome his scruples against the intoxicating power of caffeine
and the unwholesome dens of the coffeehouses and refrained from banning coffee only
on account of its medicinal value.
13. Ibid., p. 28
14. Aubrey gives a slightly different account of the origins of the Royal Society,
which, however, comes to the same ending. In his biography of John Wilkins (1614–
72), private chaplain to Charles I’s nephew, and first secretary of the officially
constituted Royal Society, he says,
He was the principall Reviver of Experimentall Philosphy at Oxford, where he had
weekely an experimentall philosophicall Clubbe, which began 1649, and was the
Incunabula of the Royall Society. When he came to London, they mett at Bullhead
taverne in Cheapside (e.g. 1658, 1659, and after) till it grew to big for a Clubb. The first
beginning of the Royal Society (where they putt discourse in paper and brought it to
use) was in the Chamber of William Ball, Esqr., eldest son of Sir Peter Ball of Deven, in
the Middle Temple. They had meetings at Taverns before, but ‘twas here where it
formally and in good earnest sett up: and so they came to Gresham Colledge parlour.
15. John Timbs, Clubs and Club Life in London, pp. 269–70.
16. Bryant Lillywhite, London Coffee Houses, p. 467.
17. Aubrey, Brief Lives, p. 26.
18. Lillywhite, London Coffee Houses, p. 467.
19. The list was published by Thomas Dangerfield (1650–85), himself a perjurer and
conspirator.
20. Bramah, Tea & Coffee, p. 107
21. Ellis, Penny Universities, p. 38.
22. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 55.
23. Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 95
24. Ibid.
25. Colin McEvedy and Richard Jones, Atlas of World Population History, p. 44.
26. The population had expanded rapidly in the thirteenth century, until it reached
about five million and roughly stabilized. Great landlords prospered, but the median
size of peasant farms fell, with no compensating productivity increase.
27. Nicol, Treatise on Coffee, p. 15.
28. Moseley, Effects of Coffee, p.20.
29. This year also marks the first mention of coffee in the statute books of England,
for in 1660 a duty of fourpence a gallon was imposed on the prepared drink.
30. Disraeli, Curiosities of Literature, pp. 379–80.
31. In the introduction to his edition of Curiosities of Literature, Benjamin Disraeli,
Isaac’s famous son, relates how his father liked come to town to “read the newspapers
at the St. James’ Coffee-house,” finding their “columns filled with extracts from the
fortunate effusion of the hour,” and that it was in this place that he first heard his own
fame as a writer manifested in animated conversations. Ibid., pp. xvi–xvii.
32. Evelyn, Works, note, p. 11.
33. Forrest, Tea for the British, p. 25.
34. Agnes Strickland, Lives of the Queens of England, vol. 5, p. 521.
35. Waller’s poetic celebration of taking tea continued through the eighteenth
century, for example, in the works of John Cooper (1723–69), called “the Laureate of
the tea-table.” Quoted in Walsh, Tea, p. 234.
36. Forrest, Tea for the British, p. 28.
37. Thomas Brown, The Works of Thomas Brown, vol. 3, p. 86.
38. Tatler, no. 148, Tuesday, March 21, 1710.
39. Certainly the dialogue was nothing new in the history of prose, for it had been a
vital literary form from Plato’s Symposium (fourth century B.C.) to Galileo’s vernacular
Dialogue of Two World Systems (1632), which, even though the scientist had obtained
permission to write it, incurred his condemnation by the Inquisition.
40. Of course not everyone welcomed the new style. John, Baron Hervey of Ickworth
(1696–1743), in his masterpiece, Memoirs of the Reign of King George II, depicts the
life at court from George II’s accession in 1727 to Queen Caroline’s death in 1827.
Written in a largely discursive and occasionally epigrammatical style, his prose conveys
vivid, intimate images of royal lives. Speaking of himself in the third person, he writes
that, as he entered the queen’s bedroom at breakfast, “Lord Hervey found her [the ailing
queen] and Princess Caroline together, drinking chocolate, drowned in tears.”
Hervey’s style is brilliantly realistic, and its sustained reportorial restraint is moving in
the manner of Stendhal, but as third-person narrative it is at the antipode from dialogue.
Neither did Hervey find any use for dialogue in polemics, complaining that an argument
posed in dialogue was “stiff, forced, and unfair.” Bonamy Dobrée, English Literature in
the Early Eighteenth Century, p. 352.
41. As Socrates had said that the dialectic was an image of the activity of philosophy.
42. Quoted in Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 97.
43. Dobrée in his outstanding English Literature in the Early Eighteenth Century
(1959), while acknowledging the social impact of the coffeehouse, asserts that, as
literary forums, they hosted insular cliques that could have had little influence on the
development of ideas or letters. Dobrée cites Swift’s quip, spoken of the clergy but
which could have been applied with equal justice to other groups of coffeehouse
attendees of the day, “They have their particular Clubs, and particular Coffee-Houses,
where they generally appear in Clusters.” We reply that, even if only in regard of their
having been the places where the first newspapers were written and published, it is
difficult to entertain an image of coffeehouse insularity. Further, London was small, and
the critical influence of the judgments rendered in coffeehouses, from the redoubtable
Rota to the Literary Club a century later, were enough to make or break a new book
throughout the city. And, after all, many of the literary stars of the coffeehouses took
their place alternately in one coffeehouse constellation or another, as their fancies of an
evening inclined them in their courses.
44. Ibid., p. 566.
45. Drabble, The Oxford Companion to English Literature, p. 227.
46. Quoted in Stella Margetson, Leisure and Pleasure in the Eighteenth Century, p.
39.
47. Although most of what we know of this illustrious society appears in Boswell’s
work, Macaulay tells us that the maligned follower of Johnson “was regarded with little
respect by his brethren, and had not without difficulty obtained a seat among them.”
Thomas Macaulay, Life of Johnson, pp. 43–44.
48. Ibid., p. 45.
49. Ibid., pp. 44–45.
50. For example, Great Britain‘s Postmaster, a political and commercial publication,
devoted an entire issue in 1707 to a dreadful poem called “The British Court,” about the
sublimities of the entourage of Queen Ann. As Dobrée, who describes Addison as “the
first Victorian,” explains in English Literature in the Eighteenth Century: “It was
possibly in this way that a mass of new readers, intent in the first instance upon the
actual, practical, the useful, came to regard verse as natural medium, would read at first,
perhaps, Defoe’s ‘True Born Englishman,’…and finally [progress] to better things…
even Pope’s ‘Windsor Forest’ (Dobrée, p. 8)
51. Dobrée, English Literature, p. 8.
52. Timbs, Clubs and Club Life in London, p. 323.
53. Macaulay, Life of Johnson, p. 51.
54. Kathleen Coburn, ed., The Notebooks of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1300, 8.49.
55. Tea also figured into the lives of the Romantic poets, as this snippet from 1802,
written after a cross-country walk of many miles during the years Coleridge and
Wordsworth were still collaborating on the Lyrical Ballads, demonstrates:
The Rocks, by which we passed, under the brow of one of which I sate, beside an old
blasted Tree, seemed the very link by which Nature connected Wood & Stone...
Here too I heard with a deep feeling the swelling unequal noise of mountain Water from
the streams in the Ravines
We now found that our Expedition to the Trossacks was rashly undertaken we were at
least 9 miles from the Trossacks, no Public House there or here it was almost too late to
return, and if we did, the Loch Lomond Ferry Boat uncertain. We proceeded to the first
House in the first Reach, & threw ourselves upon the Hospitality of the Gentleman, who
after some Demur with Wordsworth did offer us a Bed & his Wife, a sweet and
matronly Woman, made Tea for us most hospitably. Best possible Butter, white Cheese,
Tea, & Barley Bannocks.
56. Walsh, Tea, p. 234.
57. Coburn, Coleridge, 1490, 7.40.
58. The gentrification of the once socially catholic coffeehouse is evident in an
account by an Italian traveler, written in the same year (1724), of the pastimes available
to the café society. Ibid., p. 74.
59. Derek Jarrett, England in the Age of Hogarth, p. 202.
60. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 74.
61. Quoted in Okakura, The Book of Tea, p. 7.
62. Ukers, All About Tea, vol. II, p. 494.
63. Ibid., vol. I, p. 48, quoting Sir John Hawkins, The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D.,
London, 1787.
64. The Literary Magazine, no. 7, October 15-November 15, 1756; and no. 13, April
15-May 15, 1757.
65. R.O.Mennell, Tea: An Historical Sketch, p. 29.
66. Ibid.
67. Ibid. Even worse than the practices noticed in the statute, tea traders blended tea
with ash leaves boiled in iron sulphate and sheep dung. See Helen Simpson, The
London Ritz Book of Afternoon Tea, p. 13.
68. Simpson, London Ritz, p. 15.
69. The author is anonymous.
70. A contemporary doctor who was known for investigating adulterations.
71. Pepper dust.
72. Oxford Book of English Traditional Verse, no. 288, “London Adulterations,” p.
335.
73. Daniel Pool, What Jane Austen Ate, What Charles Dickens Knew, p. 209.
74. Oxford Book of English Traditional Verse, no. 289, “How Five and Twenty
Shillings Were Expended in a Week,” p. 337.
75. Adapted from M.A. Spiller, The Methylxanthine Beverages and Foods, p. 204.
CHAPTER 11
the endless simmer
1. Quoted in Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 122.
2. Ibid., p. 106.
3. Mark Twain, Autobiography, 1924, reprinted in Helen Morrison, The Golden Age
of Travel
4. Timbs, Club Life in London, p. 286.
5. Wiley’s story is told in elaborate detail in Mark Pendergrast’s book For God,
Country, and Coca-Cola (1993).
6. Quoted in Pendergrast, ibid., p. 112.
7. Ibid., pp. 119–20.
8. Harry Hollingworth and L. Hollingworth, “The Influence of Caffeine on Mental
and Motor Efficiency,” Archives of Psychology 20 (1912): 1–166.
9. Pendergrast, For God, p. 121.
10. “Beverage Marketing,” Dow Jones News, February 6, 1996.
11. Another high-caffeine soft drink advertisment, which was withdrawn from at
least one Akron suburb in response to public displeasure, read, “Gotta problem with the
taste of Kick soda? Call 1–800-BITE-ME." Billboards with that piquant message on
behalf of Kick were posted in three Ohio communities. A spokesman for the company
explained that its intent had been to be tasteless and tacky to attract the soda’s targets
market of high school and college men. The telephone number, by the way, isn’t real: It
lacks the requisite eleventh digit.
12. David Ramsey, “Caffeine Can Be Your Friend,” MacWEEK, 7.16 (April 19): 62.
CHAPTER 12
caffeine culture and le fin de millénaire
1. Laboratory studies to date, in which subjects are challenged with larger single
doses, shed little light on the ways in which most people actually use caffeine, that is,
ingesting it in small amounts throughout the day and taking relatively little after dinner.
2. M.J. Shirlow, “Patterns of Caffeine Consumption,” Human Nutrition: Applied
Nutrition 37a (1983): 307–13.
3. David Musto, "Alcohol in American History," Scientific American, April 1996, p.
78.
4. In terms of dollars, coffee, cacao, and tea are each important agricultural products.
In terms of dollar value, coffee is the largest agricultural commodity in the world, and it
is second only to oil among all commodities. In 1985 the world value of trade in coffee
every year was more than $15 trillion, that of cacao exceeded $7 trillion, and that of tea
topped $2.5 trillion, with a total world value of these three caffeine crops of near $25
trillion annually.
5. Mark Schogol, “Personal Briefing,” Philadelphia Inquirer, January 10, 1996.
6. Krapf, Travels, Researches, p. 47. Krapf, who wrote in the middle of the
nineteenth century, reports that already by his time, African coffee from the Kaffa
region was being exported to Arabia and sold as genuine Mocha. This practice persists
today.
7. Heise, Coffee and Coffee-Houses, pp. 20–21.
8. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 275.
9. Frederick L. Wellman, Coffee Botany, Cultivation, and Utilization.
10. More information about these studies of drinking water is available from Ed
Swibas, USGS Colorado District, Box 25046, MS 415, Denver, CO 80225.
11. His poem “The Caffeine” is widely posted in newsgroups and found in several
web pages.
12. Working Woman, November 1995, p. 100.
13. International trade in caffeine has become a contentious issue at least in India,
where in 1995 the Chemicals and Fertilizers Ministry officials in New Delhi,
responding to petitions from Indian pharmaceutical firms, announced duties on imports
of both caffeine and theophylline.
14. The Cathead homepage is
http://www.efn.org/~garl_p_s/Cathead/CatheadPage.html.
CHAPTER 13
caffeine in the laboratory
1. Johannes Fabricius, Alchemy, p. 11.
2. Before Boyle, the Greek philosopher Empedocles had taught that four underived
and indestructible substances, fire, water, earth, and air, were the constituents from
which all other things are compounded, and this theory had reigned unchallenged since
ancient times.
3. Manufacturer’s Standard Data Sheet (excerpt):
MSDS FOR CAFFEINE
1—PRODUCT IDENTIFICATION
PRODUCT NAME: CAFFEINE
FORMULA: C8H10N4O2
FORMULA WT: 194.19 CAS NO.: 00058–08–2
NIOSH/RTECS NO.: EV6475000
COMMON SYNONYMS: 1,3,7-TRIMETHYLXANTHINE
PRODUCT CODES: E268
EFFECTIVE: 10/25/85
4. Silvio Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 400.
5. Jack E.James, Caffeine and Health, p. 81. On caffeine’s slowing of the
metabolization of alcohol, James cites J.George et al., “Influence of Alcohol on
Caffeine Consumption and Caffeine Elimination,” Clinical and Experimental
Pharmacology and Physiology 13 (1986): 731–36; M.C.Mitchell et al., “Inhibition of
Caffeine Elimination by Short Term Ethanol Administration,” Journal of Laboratory
and Clinical Medicine 101 (1983): 826–34. James also notes that Nash's speculative
antagonistic effect between caffeine and alcohol may occur, but if it does, is probably
clinically insignificant, citing R.Fudin and R.Nicastro, “Can Caffeine Antagonize
Alcohol-Induced Performance Decrements in Humans?” Perceptual and Motor Skills
67 (1988): 375–91.
6. Richard Gilbert, Caffeine: The Most Popular Stimulant, p. 62. Gilbert states,
“Some of the variability in the rates of caffeine metabolism is inherited. Asians, for
example, appear to metabolism caffeine differently and more slowly than Caucasians.
Some of the variability, however, may be the result of experience with caffeine. Regular
caffeine users may metabolize caffeine more quickly, though this has not yet been
proven.”
7. Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p. 81. Caffeine’s ability to antagonize alcohol-
induced drowsiness is the one antagonism which he finds the most credible.
8. Jacob, Epic of a Commodity, p. 22.
9. Another related theory, of questionable probative value, is that caffeine achieves its
effects by benzodiazepine receptors that regulate the activity of GABA (gamma-amino
butyric acid), an amino acid highly concentrated in the central nervous system that has a
very powerful depressant effect on neuronal discharge. An antagonistic effect on these
receptors, by inhibiting the action of GABA, could account for caffeine’s stimulant
effect. However, although the antagonism between caffeine and benzodiazepines in
vitro and in vivo is clearly established, the concentrations of caffeine reached after
coffee consumption leave doubts about the significance of this effect in dietary doses of
caffeine. (Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 401)
10. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 97.
11. Bridgette E.Garrett and Roland R.Griffiths, “The Role of Dopamine in the
Behavioral Effects of Caffeine in Animals and Humans,” unpublished monograph, July
30, 1996.
12. Bozidar Stavric et al., Food and Chemical Toxicology, Canada’s Health
Protection Branch, March 1988, as reported in article by Boyce Rensberger, Washington
Post, April 25, 1996.
13. For the median values for tea prepared from tea bags of black tea, averages
among all brands, see the 1979 study by Bunker and McWilliams, published in the
Journal of the American Dietetic Association. The same study found that the amount of
caffeine in tea increases with brewing time and that the finer the particles of tea leaves,
the more caffeine is extracted into the cup. The mean caffeine contents for all brews of
regular black bag tea per cup were 28 mg for one-minute brews, 44 mg for three-minute
brews, and 47 mg for five-minute brews. Black tea contained more caffeine than green
teas.
14. The Republic of Tea Home Page, “Caffeine and Tea: Five Considerations.”
15. Newsletter, Mountain Bros. Coffee Co., San Francisco.
16. Shoku-hin 80 calorie seibun-hyo (The Ingredient List of 80-Calorie Foods, ed.
Aya Kagawa and Jyoshi Eiyo Daigaku, Women’s Nutrition College, 1980).
17. Bowes and Church’s Food Values of Portions Commonly Used, by Anna De
Planter Bowes. Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1989, pp. 261– 62.
18. Spiller, Methylxanthine Beverages, p. 181.
19. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 37.
20. Private correspondence from George Stiper, Ph.D.
CHAPTER 14
caffeine and the plant kingdom
1. Gilbert, Most Popular Stimulant, p. 27.
2. J.Nathanson, Science, October 5, 1984.
3. Warren E.Leary, “Caffeine in plants seen as insecticide,” Philadelphia Inquirer,
October 5, 1984.
4. NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center researchers reported varying results when
they gave various mind-altering substances to household spiders, then observed their
webs. The spiders exposed to marijuana did the best spinning. Dr. David Noever, head
of the research team, stated that the worst web was spun by a spider dosed with
caffeine. “Using SpiderWeb Patterns to Determine Toxicity,” NASA Technical Briefs
MFS-28921, April 1995, study at Marshall Space Flight Center, Alabama, by David A.
Noever et al.
5. New Yorker, June 5, 1995, p. 34.
6. Leary (see note 3).
7. Année Littéraire, Paris, 1774, vol. VI, p. 217.
8. Ibid. De Clieu’s heroic husbandry has been glorified in prose and poetry by his
admiring countrymen. Joseph Alphonse Esménard (1769–1811), a Creole poet of
indifferent gifts who delighted in maritime themes, describes his devotion through the
dreadful calm, writing that the officer, though parched by the broiling sun,
Yet does not slake his own consuming thirst,
But drop by drop revives the sapling first,
His suffering eased by what his visions show,
Who from this shoot sees great plantations grow.
(Our translation)
9. Spiller, Methylxanthine Beverages, p. 77.
10. Ibid.
11. Timothy James Castle, The Perfect Cup, p. 10.
12. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 284.
13. Joseph Walsh, Tea: Its History and Mystery, p. 49
14. Bayard Hora, ed., Oxford Encyclopaedia of Trees of the World, p. 210.
15. Ukers, All about Coffee, p. 8.
16. McCoy and Walker, Coffee and Tea, pp. 163–64.
17. Chow and Kramer, All the Tea in China, p. 92.
18. Lu Yü, Classic of Tea, pp. 39–40.
19. Chow and Kramer, All the Tea in China, p. 77.
20. Ibid., p. 214. Perhaps there is something in the water that makes people in the tea
trade wax emotional, producing their own versions of “Tea and Sympathy” when
discoursing on this subject. For example, when boiling water is poured over the curling
leaves in a pot, and they release their caffeine and tannin, this is luridly called the
“agony of the leaves” by those in the tea business.
21. James Norwood Pratt, Tea Lover’s Treasury, p. 212.
22. Toussaint-Samat, History of Food, p. 305.
23. Lu Yü, Classic of Tea, p. 21.
24. Pratt, Tea Lover’s Treasury, p. 212.
25. Coe and Coe, True History, p. 18.
26. José Cuatrecasas, “Cacao and Its Allies: A Taxonomic Revision of the Genus
Theobroma,” Contributions from the United States National Herbarium 35, part 6.
Washington, D.C., 1964.
27. Spiller, Methylxanthine Beverages, p. 152.
28. Robert Schery, Plants for Man, p. 594.
29. Phillips reports an unusual use for the wood: “It is from the wood of this tree that
our most esteemed German flutes have for some years past been made, as they are not
so subject to swell by using as those made from Box-wood; which swelling often causes
a variation of half a note, as after being played on for short time the tone become
sharper. The cacao flutes have also an objectionable quality, viz., as they are subject to
crack by use, and will not stand the breath of different persons. A respectable professor
of this instrument, among other instances, informed us of a gentleman who after having
played on a cacao flute for seven years without accident, sold it to a friend, by whose
breath alone three joints were split, in the course of a few months practice.” (Phillips,
Orchard, p. 71)
30. Ibid., p. 152.
31. Foster and Cordell, Chilies to Chocolate, pp. 105–8.
32. Schery, Plants for Man, p. 316.
33. G.K.Mumford et al., “Discriminative Stimulus and Subjective Effects of
Theobromine and Caffeine in Humans,” Psychopharmacology 115 (1994): 1–8.
34. Spiller, Methylxanthine Beverages, p. 179.
35. J.Alfred Wanklyn, Tea, Coffee, and Cocoa, p. 58.
36. Ibid.
37. Joseph Walsh, Tea: Its History and Mystery, p. 46.
38. Maud Grieve, A Modern Herbal, p. 609.
39. Ukers, All about Tea, vol. I, p. 503.
40. Encyclopædia Britannica, “Angiosperms,” vol. 13, p. 722 (1990).
41. Encyclopoedia Britannica, “Kola nut,” vol. 6, p. 937 (1990).
42. Louis Lewin, Phantastica: A Classic Survey on the Use and Abuse of Mind-
Altering Plants, p. 224.
43. Ibid., p. 223.
44. Ibid., p. 226.
45. David Tait, “Konkomba Sorcery,” appearing in John Middleton, ed., Magic,
Witchcraft, and Curing, p. 157.
46. Grieve, Modern Herbal, p. 381.
47. According to one source, guarana means “to make war” in the indigenous
tongue, so named because it was thought to confer strength and valor.
48. Joseph Walsh, Tea: Its History and Mystery, p. 47.
49. Encyclopoedia Britannica, “Angiosperms,” vol. 13, p. 753.
50. Schery, Plants for Man, p. 309.
51. Joseph Walsh, Tea: Its History and Mystery, p. 47.
52. Donna Abu-nasr, “Yemen’s Costly Habit: Chewing Khat Leaves,” Philadelphia
Inquirer, March 26, 2000.
53. Schery, Plants for Man, p. 317.
54. Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Betel,” vol. 2, p. 172 (1990).
55. John G.Kennedy, The Flower of Paradise, p. 239.
56. Marco Polo, The Travels, p. 186.
57. E.N. Anderson, The Food of China, p. 138.
58. Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Aphrodisiac,” vol. 1, p. 480 (1990).
CHAPTER 15
caffeine and the body
1. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 177.
2. Ibid., p. 178 3. James, Caffeine and Health, p. 339.
3. James, Caffeine and Health, p. 339.
4. D.Robertson et al., “The Health Consequences of Caffeine,” Annals of Intenal
Medicine 98 (1983): 641–53.
5. J.Onrot et al., “Hemodynamic and Humoral Effects of Caffeine in Autonomic
Failure, Therapeutic Implications for Post-Prandial Hypotension,” NEJM 313 (1985):
549–54.
6. T.B.Graboys et al., “Coffee, Arrhythmias, and Common Sense,” NEJM 308
(1983): 835–36.
7. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 401.
8. Charles R.Schuster and Michael J.Kuhar, ed., Handbook of Experimental
Pharmacology, Heidelberg, pp. 315–41.
9. S.S.Hayreh, letter to Lancet I (1973): 45.
10. James, Caffeine and Health, p. 293.
11. A.W.Caggiula et al. (for the MR FIT group), “Coffee Drinking, Coronary Heart
Disease, and Total Mortality.” Presented at Tenth World Congress of Cardiology,
September 14–19, 1986, Washington, D.C.
12. D.E.Grobbee et al., “Coffee, Caffeine, and Cardiovascular Disease in Men,”
NEJM 323 (1990): 1026–32.
13. P.W.F. Wilson et al., “Is Coffee Consumption a Contributor to Cardiovascular
Disease? Insights from the Framingham Study,” Archives of Internal Medicine 149
(1989): 1169–72.
14. Siegfried Heydens et al., “Coffee Consumption and Mortality: Total Mortality,
Stroke Mortality, and Coronary Heart Disease Mortality,” Archives of Internal Medicine
138 (1978): 1472–75.
15. L.Wilhelmsen et al., “Coffee Consumption and Coronary Heart Disease in
Middle Aged Swedish Men,” Acta Med Scand 201 (1977): 547–52.
16. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 174.
17. This effect was so pronounced that it was thought by the researchers to at least
partially counterbalance the potentially dangerous cholesterol-raising effects that the
study also correlated with drinking non-filtered coffee. Many other studies have
confirmed these observations.
18. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 161.
19. Ibid., p. 163. Studies in the 1980s by David Robertson profiled the tolerance to
caffeine’s hemodynamic and neurohumoral (of or pertaining to a chemical transmitted
by a neuron, such as acetylcholine, serotonin, dopomine, or epinephrine) effects among
people with normal and high blood pressure. He concluded that, while his study
confirmed the moderate pressor effect of caffeine, it “demonstrated rapid and
essentially complete tolerance to the hemodynamic and neurohumoral effects over as
short a period as three to four days.”
20. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 25.
21. Ibid., p. 184.
22. Ibid.
23. In fact, an important study, conducted in the United States in 1990 and published
in The New England Journal of Medicine, found an increase in heart attacks correlated
with the consumption of decaffeinated coffee, while observing no such effect for
regular coffee. Some scientists explain this difference by adducing the possible role of
caffeine in counteracting some of the harmful physiological effects of the coffee in
which it is found.
24. Alfred Gilman, Goodman and Gilman’s The Pharmacological Basis of
Therapeutics, p. 618.
25. D.R.Lima, “Cigarettes and Caffeine,” Chest 95 (1989): 255–56.
26. James, Caffeine and Health, p. 339.
27. Ibid., p. 22.
28. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 402.
29. Ibid., p. 382.
30. Bonnie Edwards, America‘s Favorite Drug, p. 24.
31. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 34.
32. Ibid., p. 25.
33. A.D.McDonald et al., “Cigarette, alcohol, and coffee consumption and congenital
defects,”American Journal of Public Health 82 (1986): 91–93.
34. Marilyn Elias, “Low-Cost Help For Breast-Cyst Pain,” USA Today, April 28,
1992, p. 1D, reporting on a paper presented by Dr. Bruce Drukker, Michigan State
University Medical School, East Lansing, addressing the American College of
Obstetricians and Gynecologists meeting in Las Vegas in April 1992.
35. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 348.
36. J.L.Brazier and B.Salle, “Conversion of Theophylline to Caffeine by the Human
Fetus,” Seminars in Perinatology 5 (1981): 315–20.
37. H.Roberts, “Caffeine Consumption,” paper presented at American Academy of
Pediatrics Clinical Pharmacology Session, New Orleans, October 1991.
38. See P.B.Dews, ed., Caffeine, chapter by J.J.Barone and H.Roberts, “Human
Consumption of Caffeine.”
39. Committee on GRAS List Survey, Phase III: Estimating Distribution of Daily
Intakes of Caffeine, National Academy of Sciences, Washington, D.C.
40. P.B.Dews, “Caffeine Research: An International Overview,” presented at ISLA
meeting, Sydney, 1986. See also J.Hathcock, ed., Nutritional Toxicology, chapter by
J.Bergman and P. B.Dews, “Dietary Caffeine and Its Toxicity.”
41. Rappoport et al., “Behavioral Effects of Caffeine in Children,” Archives of
General Psychology 41 (1984): 1073–79.
42. “Iced Tea and Crazy Kids,” Lidia Wasowicz, UPI Science Writer.
43. Kelly L.Hale and John R.Hughes et al., “Caffeine Self-Administration and
Subjective Effects in Adolescents,” Experimental and Clinical Psychopharmacology 3,
no. 4 (1995): 364–70.
44. “Vivarin Ad Is Attacked in Philadelphia Inquirer,” United Press International
Edition, August 27, 1984, E6.
45. Henry Goldman, “Caffeine Pills Put Man On 3 Years’ Probation,” Philadelphia
Inquirer, December 14, 1984.
46. Because cacao contains eight times more theobromine than it does caffeine,
theobromine is nearly as important a contributor to its stimulating effects as the smaller
amount of caffeine.
47. Theobromine is also highly toxic to dogs, and accidental chocolate poisoning
kills quite a few each year. See Clarence M.Fraser, ed., The Merck Veterinary Manual,
pp. 1643–44.
48. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 214.
49. “Of all women giving birth in Yale-New Haven Hospital in a four-month period
in 1990–1991, only 26% reported no caffeine intake in the first month of pregnancy.”
L.Dlugosz and M.B.Bracken, “Reproductive Effects of Caffeine: A Review and
Theoretical Analysis,” Epidemological Reviews 14 (1992): 83–98.
50. J.L.Brazier and B.Salle, “Conversion of Theophylline to Caffeine by the Human
Fetus,” Seminars in Perinatology 5 (1981): 315–20. See also M.Dumas et al.,
“Systematic Determination of Caffeine Plasma Concentrations at Birth in Preterm and
Fullterm Infants,” Developmental Pharmacology and Therapeutics 4 (1982): 182–86.
51. A.Aldridge et al., “The Disposition of Caffeine during and after Pregnancy,”
Seminars in Perinatology 5 (1981): 310–314.
52. “In pregnancy there is a considerable increase in the half-life of caffeine and
therefore an increase in exposure,” Garattini, p. 400.
53. S.A.Pearlman et al., “Caffeine Pharmokinetics in Pre-Term Infants Older than
Two Weeks,” Developmental Pharmacology and Therapeutics 12 (1989): 65–69.
54. A.Wakamatsu et al., “Change of Plasma Half-Life of Caffeine during Caffeine
Therapy for Apnea in Premature Infants,” Acta Paediatrica Japonica 29 (1987): 595–
99.
55. Ibid.
56. O.Carrier et al., “Maturation of Caffeine Metabolic Pathways in Infancy,”
Clinical Pharmacology and Therapeutics 44 (1988): 145– 51.
57. Ghazi M.Al-Hachim, “The Teratogenicity of Caffeine: A Review,” European
Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology and Reproductive Biology 31 (1988): 237.
58. L.Dlugosz and M.B.Bracken, “Reproductive Effects of Caffeine: A Review and
Theoretical Analysis,” Epidemiological Reviews 14 (1992): 83–98.
59. Dlugosz states, “In animal studies, caffeine is teratogenic at doses that are almost
impossible to reach in humans, the peak level being more important than the total
exposure over time.” Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 95.
60. Ibid., p. 353.
61. Victor Cohn, “Caffeine Warning Is Reassessed,” Philadelphia Inquirer, March 2,
1984, p. A3.
62. Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p. 223.
63. J.Olsen et al., “Coffee Consumption, Birthweight, and Reproductive Failures,”
Epidemiology 2 (1991): 370–74. See also S.Linn et al., “No Association between
Coffee Consumption and Adverse Outcomes of Pregnancy,” NEJM 306 (1982): 141–
45.
64. Brenda Eskenazi, “Caffeine During Pregnancy: Grounds for Concern?” JAMA
270, no. 24 (1993): 2973–74. Perhaps surprisingly, the evidence against a positive
correlation with prematurity is regarded as evidence in favor of a positive correlation
with low birthweight, because it means that increasing rates of prematurity can be ruled
out as a contributing factor where low birthweights seem to occur. One researcher cites
more than fifteen studies that have examined the relationship between caffeine
consumption and low birthweight, claiming that all of the larger and better constructed
studies demonstrate no correlation. (See Olsen et al., and Linn et al., note 63). In
contrast, citing a 1989 study of caffeine and low birthweight by B.J.Caan and
M.K.Goldhaber (“Caffeinated Beverages and Low Birthweight: A Case Controlled
Study,” American Journal of Public Health 79 [1989]: 1299–1300), in which caffeine
users had three times the likelihood of non-users of delivering a low birthweight baby,
Jack James asserts that, although no correlation has been proved, there are serious
reasons for concern. A commentary on the literature appearing in JAMA in 1993 agrees
with James, asserting that most studies find consumption of more than 300 mg a day
increases the risk for low birthweight, while stating that the results for lower
consumption levels are ambiguous or conflicting.
65. Linn et al. (see note 63).
66. B.Watkinson and P.A.Fried, “Maternal Caffeine Use before, during, and after
Pregnancy and Effects upon Offspring,” Neurobehavioral Toxicology and Teratology 7
(1985): 9–17.
67. B.G.Armstrong et al., “Cigarette, Alcohol, and Coffee Consumption and
Congenital Defects,” American Journal of Public Health 82 (1993): 91–93.
68. Until recently, no study had been undertaken to exclude the possible confounding
effects of nausea on the relationship between spontaneous abortion and caffeine
consumption, the Epiphenomena of Pregnancy: Specifying the Analytic Model,”
Epidemiology 2 [1991]: known as the Stein-Susser hypothesis (Z.Stein and M.Susser,
“Miscarriage, Caffeine, and 163–67). Because nausea is more common in pregnancies
that come to term, aversion for alcohol, food, and caffeine is possible, and such
aversion would skew the results of epidemiological studies to falsely suggest that the
use of caffeine was correlated with miscarriage. However, one study, by Kline in 1991,
found that an adjustment for nausea and vomiting did not affect the results.
69. A.Goldstein and R.Warren, “Passage of Caffeine into Human Gonadal and Fetal
Tissue” Biochemical Pharmacology 11 (1962): 168.
70. Dlugosz and Bracken, p. 90 (see note 58).
71. S.W.Jacobson et al., “Neonatal Correlates of Prenatal Exposure to Smoking,
Caffeine, and Alcohol,” Infantile Behavioral Development 7 (1984): 253–65.
72. Eskenazi (see note 64).
73. D.B.Thomas, “Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome,” Medical Journal of Australia
148 (1988): 598.
74. J.D.McGowan et al., “Neonatal Withdrawal Symptoms after Chronic Ingestion of
Caffeine,” Southern Medical Journal 81 (1988): 1092–94.
75. J.Tuomilehto et al., “Coffee Consumption as a Trigger for Insulin Dependent
Diabetes Milletus in Childhood,” BMJ 300 (1990): 623–42.
76. Eskenazi (see note 64).
77. “Caffeine and Women’s Health,” pamphlet published by the Association of
Women’s Health, Obstetric & Neonatal Nurses in conjunction with IFIC, May 1994.
78. M.R.Joesoef et al., “Are Caffeinated Beverages Risk Factors for Delayed
Conception?” Lancet (January 20, 1990): 136–37.
79. The credibility of these studies is undermined by confounders. For example, a
Danish study of more than ten thousand pregnant women conducted by Olsen in 1991
found a drop in fertility in women who had regularly consumed more than eight cups of
coffee or tea a day, but as these women were also smokers, no conclusions about
caffeine can be drawn.
A controversial study from Johns Hopkins University of more than fifteen hundred
women, conducted by Cynthia Stanton and published in 1995 in the American Journal
of Epidemiology found that, of women who neither smoked nor consumed large
amounts of caffeine, less than 10 percent took a year or more to conceive, while of
women who consumed more than 300 milligrams of caffeine a day, 20 percent took a
year or more to conceive. One finding that may at first seem peculiar was that though
smokers were about 15 to 20 percent less likely than non-smokers to become pregnant
in any given month, their rate of conception was not affected by caffeine intake. A
possible explanation is that, because smoking greatly increases the rate of caffeine
metabolism, the exposure of smokers is much lower than it otherwise appears.
The merits of the study’s conclusions have been challenged by some fertility specialists.
Dr. Mona Shangold, professor of obstetrics and gynecology at the Medical College of
Pennsylvania and Hahnemann University, said the study’s protocol was seriously
flawed because the investigators made no attempt to control for co-variables such as the
frequency of intercourse, or the health and habits of the men involved in the pregnancy
attempts. Dr. Shangold concludes women who are trying to become pregnant should not
be advised to avoid caffeine on the basis of this article. The National Coffee
Association, not surprisingly, agrees that the study should not cause concern.
80. J.V.Ruzich et al., “Objective Assessment of the Effect of Caffeine on Sperm
Motility and Velocity,” Fertility and Sterility 48 (1987): 891–93.
81. Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p. 250.
82. Dlugosz and Bracken, p. 90 (see note 58).
83. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, pp. 97–150.
84. Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p. 30.
85. For comparison, consider that Wilcox has determined that two to three hours after
consumption, two cups of coffee or a Vivarin would produce urinary levels of only
about 3 mg/litre.
86. International Intrigue and Virtue Rewarded as Innocent Britisher Triumphs Over
German Attempts to Frame Him as Caffeine Hound:
In 1994 Simon Wigg, a former captain of the England speedway team, before a crowd
of 22,000 and on his Czech-made Jawa bike won a record fifth world long-track cycling
title in a competition staged in Mariensky-Lasne, in the Czech Republic. According to
Speedway Times, a London magazine:
Just a year ago, the British rider won the world title only to be accused of testing
positive for excessive caffeine, disqualified and then reinstated when the tests, carried
out by the respected Koln Institute in Germany, were discredited,
Wigg’s caffeine level, initially below the minimum limit, was arbitrarily multiplied by a
factor of three by the institute, and it was not until the Auto Cycle Union, the governing
body in Britain, supported by drug-testing centres in Canada and Australia, strongly
objected to the decision, that Wigg’s test was nullified. To add to the suspicions, Karl
Maier, a German, would have become the world champion had Wigg’s ban been
upheld….
[Despite vindication,] Wigg, twice the British speedway champion and six times the
grass-track champion, still lost an estimated £30,000 in sponsorship because of the
accusations.
According to the newspaper story, the villain of the tale was the head of the Koln
Institute and a member of the medical commission of the International Olympic
Committee. Wigg said that if he ever met the man face to face, he would, “punch him
on the nose.”
87. Barry Steven Cohen, “Does Caffeine Have An Ergogenic Benefit On Low
Intensity Exercise Performance in a Warm Environment?” unpublished manuscript, p.
56, note 110.
88. Ibid., p. 58.
CHAPTER 16
thinking over caffeine
1. H.O.G.Holck, “Effect of Caffeine on Chess Problem Solving,” Journal of
Comparative Psychology (1933): 301–11.
2. J.E.Barmack, “The Time of Administration and Some Effects of 2 grams of
Alkaloid Caffeine,” Joumal of Experimental Psychology 27 (1940): 690–98.
3. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 296.
4. The information-processing approach consists of studying the flow of information
through the system, monitoring the sequence of processing and transformations
between input and output. In its various forms, the information-processing metaphor
has guided research on quite complex behavior and has allowed the generation of
extensive theories concerning the nature of such phenomena as perception, memory,
attention, problem solving, language, and decision making. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee,
and Health, p. 301.
5. A.F.Sanders, “Towards a Model of Stress and Human Performance,” Act
Psychology 1, no. 53 (1983): 61–97.
6. In a visual-search task, caffeine hurt performance when the target was six letters
but helped when it was only two. In a recent study, the ability to solve a maze was
unaffected by caffeine, while caffeine promoted the regularity and fluency of letter
cancellation task performance.
7. A.C.Bittner et al., “Performance Evaluation Tests for Environmental Research
(PETER): Evaluation of 114 measures,” Precept. Mot. Skills 63 (1986): 683–708.
8. This analysis is apparently is in accord with the Yerkes-Dodson principle. See Jack
James, Caffeine and Health, p. 250.
9. M.S.Humphreys and W.Revelle, “Personality, Motivation, and Performance: A
Theory of the Relationship between Individual Differences and Information
Processing,” Psychological Review 91 (1984): 153–84.
10. V.E.Mitchell et al., “Drugs and Placebos: Effects of Caffeine on Cognitive
Performance,” Psychological Reports, 35 (1974): 875–83.
11. Segal’s findings were presented in a proceeding of the National Academy of
Sciences, October 1999.
12. “In the context of learning and memory, it is interesting to note that xanthines,
such as theophylline, enhanced long-term potentiation, an elector-physiological model
of memory” in guinea pigs. Y.Tank et al., “Effect of Xanthine Derivatives on
Hippocampal Long-term Potentiation,” Brain Research 522 (1990): 63–68.
13. Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p. 305.
14. Ibid., p. 248.
15. J.D.Roache and R.R.Griffiths, “Interactions of Diazepam and Caffeine:
Behavioral and Subjective Dose Effects in Humans,” Pharmacology, Biochemistry and
Behavior 26 (1987): 801–12.
16. B.H.Jacobson and B.M.Edgley, “Effects of Caffeine on Simple Reaction Time
and Movement Time,” Aviation, Space, and Environmental Medicine 58 (1987): 1153–
56.
17. W.J.Baker and G.C.Theologus, “Effects of Caffeine on Visual Monitoring,”
Journal of Applied Psychology 56 (1972): 422–27. E.G.Regina et al., “Effects of
Caffeine on Alertness in Simulated Automobile Driving” Journal of Applied
Psychology 59 (1974): 483–89.
A 1993 study of ten coffee drinkers at Wake Forest University, Winston-Salem, North
Carolina, found that caffeine does improve certain reflex brain functions. Subjects
drank one or two cups of coffee twenty minutes before beginning “eyeblink startle
reflex” tests, consisting of short bursts of “white noise” images. Schiacato, lead
researcher, said that the blink reflexes, the sort of involuntary responses that occur too
fast for voluntary control, of the coffee drinkers sustained a performance better than the
non-drinkers. When exposed to redundant or repeated stimuli, involuntary responses
taper off as a result of fatigue. In effect, the brain learns to ignore the stimulus. If
caffeine can slow this “ignoring” response, as these experiments suggest, it may
increase performance of repetitive tasks, such as driving late at night and seeing the
same highway lights, white lines, and road surface, over and over. (“Cup Of Coffee
Really Does Perk Up Brain,” USA Today)
18. Michael H.Bonnet et al., “The Use of Caffeine Versus Prophylactic Naps in
Sustained Performance,” Sleep 18 (2): 97–104. (The American Sleep Disorders
Association and Sleep Research Society)
19. Jack James, “Does Caffeine Enhance or Merely Restore Degraded Psychomotor
Performance?” Neuropsychobiology 30 (1994): 124– 25.
20. James, Caffeine and Health, p. 290.
21. W.H.Loke et al., “Caffeine and Diazepam: Separate and Combined Effects on
Mood, Memory, and Psychomotor Performance,” Psychopharmacology 87 (1985):
344–50. See also Loke, “Effects of Caffeine on Mood and Memory,” Physiology and
Behavior 44 (1988): 367–72.
22. James, Caffeine and Health, p. 294.
23. M.A.Lee, “Anxiety and Caffeine Consumption in People with Anxiety
Disorders,” Psychiatry Research 15 (1985): 211–17.
24. J.F.Neil, “Caffeinism Complicating Hypersomnic Depressive Syndromes,”
Comprehensive Psychiatry 19 (1978): 377–85.
25. D.R.Cherek, “Effects of Caffeine on Human Aggressive Behavior,” Psychiatry
Research, 8 (1983): 137–45, and “Regular or Decaffeinated Coffee and Subsequent
Human Aggressive Behavior” Psychiatry Research 11 (1984): 251–58.
26. Roache and Griffiths (see note 15).
27. Sleep and wakefulness occur as phases of a cycle called the “circadian rhythm,”
with a natural length of about twenty-five hours, a peak in the late afternoon, and a
trough between three and four in the morning. Though the pattern of the circadian
rhythm is determined primarily from within, external factors, such as the alternation of
light and dark and habits of work and leisure, conjoin to “squash” it into twenty-four
hours.
28. These characteristic regular patterns in the sleep state, as measured by the EEG,
are termed the “sleep structure” and are taken to represent the quality and depth of
sleep.
29. Edwards, America’s Favorite Drug, p. 71.
30. As Jan Snel suggests in his paper “Coffee and Caffeine: Sleep and Wakefulness,”
the “effects of caffeine on the sleep-wake cycle depend both on the level of arousal,
determined by more or less constant ‘trait’ factors, such as age and personality, and by
short-term ‘state’ factors, such as time of day, fatigue, or nutritional items” (Garattini,
Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 256).
31. Edwards, America‘s Favorite Drug, p. 71.
32. Quentin R. Regestein, “Pathologic Sleepiness Induced by Caffeine,” American
Journal of Medicine 87 (1989): 587–88.
33. A. Goldstein, “Wakefulness Caused by Caffeine,” Archiv fur Experimentelle
Pathologie und Pharmakologie 248 (1964): 269–78.
34. A recent fad in the United States, using the hormone melatonin to sleep better, as
well as to stay young and cure most of humanity’s ills, is interesting for our subject,
because caffeine may be a potent suppressor of it. Melatonin is thought to be the natural
hormone that some say regulates our internal time clock and sleep patterns. Twenty-five
subjects who were given 200 mg of caffeine tablets experienced a significant reduction
in melatonin levels in their blood that persisted for eight hours. The peak serum levels
of melatonin averaged 25 mg/ml without caffeine but only 14 mg/ml when caffeine had
been ingested. According to Jo Robinson, the co-author of a recent authoritative book
on melatonin, “If you drink coffee and are under bright lights, you will get an even
greater reduction in melatonin levels. Taking supplemental melatonin will offset this
effect.” V.K.P.Wright, “Effects of Caffeine, Bright Lights, and Their Combination on
Nighttime Melatonin,” Sleep Research 24 (1995): 458.
CHAPTER 17
caffeine dependence intoxication and toxicity
1. N.Bridge, “Coffee-drinking as a Frequent Cause of Disease,” Trans Assoc Am
Physicians 8 (1893): 281–88.
2. R.R.Griffiths et al., “Human Coffee Drinking: Manipulation of Concentration and
Caffeine Dose” Journal of the Experimental Analysis of Behavior 45 (1986): 133–48.
3. K.Silverman et al., “Withdrawal Syndrome after the Double-Blind Cessation of
Caffeine Consumption,” NEJM 327 (1992): 1109–14.
4. See Spiller, Methylxanthine Beverages, and Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p.
33.
5. R.Reeves et al., “Quantitative Changes During Caffeine Withdrawal,” presented at
the annual meeting of the College of Problems on Drug Dependence, Palm Beach,
Florida, June 1994.
6. Conversation with an anonymous registered nurse. She suggested that clinics
performing ambulatory or outpatient surgeries and the American Society of Post
Anesthesia Nurses might be able to provide more information about this effect.
7. J.D.McGowan et al., “Neonatal Withdrawal Symptoms after Chronic Ingestion of
Caffeine,” Soutbern Medical Journal 81 (1988): 1092–94.
8. Eric Strain et al., “Caffeine Dependence Syndrome: Evidence from Case Histories
and Experimental Evaluations,” JAMA 272 (1994): 1043–48.
9. For an expansion of this viewpoint, see Griffiths et al., “Caffeine Dependence,”
JAMA, October 1994.
10. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 213.
11. R.R.Griffiths et al., “Relative Abuse Liability of Triazolam: Experimental
Assessment in Animals and Humans,” Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews 9
(1985): 133–51.
12. R.R.Griffiths and P.P.Woodson, “Reinforcing Properties of Caffeine: Studies in
Humans and Laboratory Animals,” Pharmacology, Biochemistry, and Behavior 29
(1988): 419–27.
13. J.R.Hughes et al., “Indications of Caffeine Dependence in a Population-Based
Sample.” In Problems of Drug Dependence, ed. L.S.Harris. Washington, D.C.: U.S.
Government Printing Office, NIDA Research Monograph #132 (NIH Publication No.
93–3505), pp. 19–28, 1993.
14. Stephen J.Heishman et al., “Stimulus Functions of Caffeine in Humans: Relation
to Dependence Potential,” Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews 16 (1992): 281.
15. Spiller, Methylxanthine Beverages, p. 287.
16. R.R.Griffiths et al., “Human Coffee Drinking: Reinforcing and Physical
Dependence Producing Effects of Caffeine,” Journal of Pharmacology and
Experimental Therapeutics 239 (1986): 416–25.
17. J.T.Rugh, “Profound Toxic Effects from the Drinking of Large Amounts of
Strong Coffee,” Medical and Surgical Reporter 75 (1896): 549–50.
18. “A Letter to the Editor of JAMA,” 62 (1914): 1828–29, by Otis Orendorff, M.D.,
Canon City, Colorado.
19. Water intoxication is a result of lowering the sodium balance in the blood,
creating sensations similar to drunkenness, and can be achieved only by gulping at least
twenty-four quarts of water a day. It’s a transient pleasure at best, vanishing when, as
quickly occurs with urination, the body adjusts this level to normal. According to one
neuropharmacologist’s report, a man actually died from drinking too much water while
high on the drug ecstasy at a rave party.
By the way, someone must have been eating tea as well, at least in the nineteenth
century, to judge by Alcott’s comments in 1839 “that the eaters of tea grounds are
especially noted for this leathery complexion…as a considerable part of the tanning
properties remains in the tea leaves after it has been infused in the usual manner.”
William Alcott, Tea and Coffee, Boston 1839, p. 22.
20. Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p. 69.
21. Ibid., p. 68.
22. S.Jokela and A.Vartiainen, “Caffeine Poisoning,” Acta Pharmacologica et
Toxicologica 15: (1959): 331–34.
23. J.E.Turner and R.H.Cravey, “A Fatal Ingestion of Caffeine,” Clinical Toxicology
10, no. 3 (1977): 341–44.
24. R.V.Nagesh and K.A.Murphy, “Caffeine Poisoning Treated by Hemoperfusion,”
American Journal of Kidney Diseases 12 (1988): 316–18. See also Jack James, Caffeine
and Health, p. 68.
25. R.L.Alsott et al., “Report of a Human Fatality Due to Caffeine,” Journal of
Forensic Sciences 14 (1972): 135–37. See also J.Bryant, “Suicide by Ingestion of
Caffeine—Letter” Archives of Pathology and Laboratory Medicine 105 (1981): 685–86.
26. P.B.Kulkarni and R.D.Dorand, “Caffeine Toxicity in the Neonate,” Pediatrics 64
(1979): 254–55.
27. V.J.M.Dimaio and J.C.Garriott, “Lethal Caffeine Poisoning in a Child,” Forensic
Science 3 (1974): 275–78.
EPILOGUE
a toast to the future
1. We don’t know if any autopsy data is available, but probably there is caffeine in
most corpses.
2. Pomet, Lemery, and Tournefort, A Compleat History of DRUGGS, “Of FRUITS,”
Of Chocolate, p. 132.
3. Spiller, Methylxanthine Beverages, p. 188.
APPENDIX C
additional studies of caffeine physical effects
1. Hypertension Detection and Follow-up Program Cooperative Group, “Five-Year
Findings of the Hypertension Detection and Follow-up Program,” JAMA 242 (1979):
2562–71.
2. B.H.Sung, “Caffeine Elevates Blood Pressure Response to Exercise in Mild
Hypertensive Men,” American Joumal of Hypertension, December 1995.
3. K.M.Piters, “Coffee Boosts Pain-Free Walking Time for Patients with Chronic
Stable Angina” (presented to the Western Section of the American Association for
Clinical Research, Carmel, California), Medical World News, March 12, 1984, p. 137.
4. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 178.
5. S.Cohen and J.H.J.Booth, “Gastric Acid Secretion and Lower-Esophagaeal-
Sphincter Pressure in Response to Coffee and Caffeine,” NEJM 293 (1975): 897–99.
6. Contradictory data abound. Later studies have suggested that caffeine is capable of
stimulating gastric acid secretion and that its effects in this respect are additive to the
same effects produced by other ingredients of coffee. Other studies have found that
caffeine may be the only agent that stimulates gastric acid secretion without increasing
lower esophageal-sphincter pressure.
7. Bruce Goldfarb, “Caffeine Increases Severity of PMS,” USA Today, September 24,
1990, p. 1D, citing Heinke Bonnlander, American Journal of Public Health, September
1990.
8. From a pamphlet issued jointly by Organon Inc., makers the most popular oral
contraceptive, Desogen, and Medical Economics, an excerpt from The PDR Family
Guide to Women’s Health and Prescription Drugs, pp. 6–7.
9. R.P.Heaney and R.R.Recker, “Effects of Nitrogen, Phosphorus, and Caffeine on
Calcium Balance in Women,” Journal of Laboratory Clinical Medicine 99 (1982): 46–
55. M.J. Burger-Lux, R.P.Heaney, and M.R.Stegman, “Effect of Moderate Caffeine
Intake on the Calcium Economy of Premenopausal Women,” American Journal of
Clinical Nutrition 52 (1990): 722–25.
10. D.P.Kiel et al., “Caffeine and the Risk of Hip Fracture: Framingham Study,”
American Journal of Epidemiology 132 (1990): 675–84.
11. E.Barett-Connor et al., “Coffee-Associated Osteoporosis Offset by Daily Milk
Consumption,” JAMA 271, no. 4 (1994): 280-83.
12. Ibid.
13. Ibid.
14. C.G.Swift and B.Tiplady, “The Effects of Age on the Response to Caffeine,”
Psychopharmacology 94 (1988): 24-31.
15. Edwards, America’s Favorite Drug, p. 71.
16. J.Onrot et al., “Hemodynamic and Humoral Effects of Caffeine in Autonomic
Failure, Therapeutic Implications for Post-Prandial Hypotension,” NEJM 313 (1985):
549-54.
17. C.Sue Sewester, ed., Drug Facts and Comparisons, p. 929.
18. Alfred Gilman, ed., Goodman and Gilman’s The Pharmacological Basis of
Therapeutics, p. 619.
19. Adapted from D.M.Graham, Nutrition Reviews 36, April 4, 1976, p. 101.
20. Jack James, Caffeine and Health, p. 336.
21. Her talk at the Sleep Research Society meeting in Boston, reported in Marilyn
Elias et al., “Coffee and a Wake-Up Call May Help Ground Jet Lag,” USA Today, June
9, 1994, p. 5D.
22. David Robertson et al., “Hemodynamic and Humoral Effects of Caffeine in
Autonomic Failure,” NEJM 313 (1985): 549–55.
23. Sewester, Drug Facts, p. 928.
APPENDIX D
methodological pitfalls
1. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 344. Our discussion relies on the work
of Alan Leviton, who in his 1992 article “Coffee, Caffeine, and Reproductive Hazards
in Humans” provides a clear, well-reasoned expose of a range of protocol defects and
the ways in which they can undermine the putative value of a study's conclusions.
2. Ibid., p. 343.
3. Ibid., p. 347.
4. C.M.Friedenreich et al., “An Investigation of Recall Bias in the Reporting of Past
Food Intake Among Breast Cancer Cases and Controls,” Annals of Epidemiology 1
(1991): 439-53.
5. L.Fenster et al., “Assessment of Reporting Consistency in a Case Control Study of
Spontaneous Abortions” American Journal of Epidemiology 133 (1991): 477-88.
6. A.Aldridge et al., “The Disposition of Caffeine during and after Pregnancy,”
Seminars in Prenatal Care 5 (1981): 310–14. See also R.Knutti et al., “The Effect of
Pregnancy on the Pharmacokinetics of Caffeine,” Archives of Toxicology (supplement)
5 (1982): 187-92.
7. Garattini, Caffeine, Coffee, and Health, p. 348.
8. J.Istvan and J.D.Matarazzo, “Tobacco, Alcohol, and Caffeine Use: A Review of
their Interrelationships,” Psychological Bulletins 95 (1984): 301-26.
9. An example of possible confounding within the area of reproductive hazards is an
apparent relationship between coffee consumption and spontaneous abortions. Because
nausea is more common in pregnancies that come to term, and nausea decreases the use
of coffee, the supposed correlation between coffee and abortions is probably an artifact,
because both relatively higher coffee consumption and spontaneous abortions are each
co-variables of an unseen underlying factor, in this case, probably suboptimal
implantation of the egg in the uterine wall, rather than coffee being a cause of fetal loss.
To complicate the question still further, a new supposition has recently arisen that
caffeine or coffee interferes with optimal implantation, and may thus be a cause of
spontaneous abortions after all.
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Table 1. Caffeine Content of Foods and Beverages
Drip 130–180
Percolated 75–150
Instant 50–130
Decaffeinated 2–6
Instant 15–35
CHOCOLATE PRODUCT
MISCELLANEOUS FOODS
Jolt Cola 70
Mr. Pibb 59
Mountain Dew 54
Mello Yellow 53
Tab 47
Coca-Cola 46
Diet Coke 46
Shasta Cola 45
Dr Pepper 40
Diet Dr Pepper 40
Pepsi-Cola 38
Diet Pepsi 36
Aspen 36
RC Cola 36
Diet RC 36
Diet Rite 36
7-Up 0
ANALGESICS
Vanquish 33
Anacin 32
Excedrin 65
Midol 32
COLD REMEDIES
Coryban-D 30
Dristan 0
Triaminicin 30
APPETITE SUPPRESSANTS
Dexatrim 200
Prolamine 140
DIURETICS
Cafergot 100
Darvon Compound 32
Fiorinal 40
Migralam 100
Percodan 32
ALERTNESS AIDS
Vivarin 200
NoDoz 100
Table 5. Diagnostic Criteria for Caffeine Intoxication
(1)
restlessness
(2) nervousness
(3) excitement
(4) insomnia
(6) diuresis
gastrointestinal
(7)
disturbance
tachycardia or cardiac
(10)
arrhythmia
(11) periods of
inexhaustibility
(12) psychomotor agitation
The symptoms are not due to a general medical condition and are not
D. better accounted for by another mental
disorder (e.g., an anxiety disorder).
VARIETALS/STRAIGHTS
Kenya AA 1.36
Zimbabwe 1.10
Mocha-Java 1.17