صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

6

Mogul, declined accepting a large present of tea for the Czar, as it would only encumber him with a commodity for which he had no use.' Dr. Short has recorded an anecdote of a stratagem of the Dutch, in their second voyage to China, by which they at first obtained their tea without disbursing money; they carried with them great store of dried sage, and bartered it with the Chinese for tea; and received three or four pounds of tea for one of sage; but, at length, the Dutch could not export sufficient quantity of sage to supply their demand. This fact, however, proves how deeply the imagination is concerned with our palate, for the Chinese, affected by the exotic novelty, considered our sage to be more precious than their tea.

The first introduction of tea into Europe is not ascertained; according to the common accounts, it came into England from Holland in 1666, when Lord Arlington and Lord Ossory brought over a small quantity: the custom of drinking tea became fashionable, and a pound weight sold then for sixty shillings. This account, however, is by no means satisfactory. I have heard of Oliver Cromwell's tea-pot in the possession of the collector, and this will derange the chronology of those writers who are perpetually copying the researches of others, without confirming or correcting them.

The best account of the early use and the prices of tea in England, appears in the hand-bill of one who may be called our first Tea-Maker. This curious hand-bill bears no date, but, as Hanway ascertained that the price was sixty shillings in 1660, this bill must have been dispersed about that period.

Thomas Garway, in Exchange Alley, tobacconist and coffee-man, was the first who sold and retailed tea, recommending it for the cure of all disorders.

The following shop-bill is more curious than any historical account we have:

Tea in England hath been sold in the leaf for six pounds, and sometimes for ten pounds, the pound weight; and in respect of its former scarceness and dearness it hath only been used as a regalia in high treatments and entertainments, and presents made thereof to princes and grandees, till the year 1657. The said Garway did purchase a quantity thereof, and first publicly sold the tea in leaf or drink, made according to the directions of the most knowing merchants into those eastern countries. On the knowledge of the said Garway's continued care and industry in obtaining the best tea, and making drink thereof, very many noblemen, physicians, merchants, &c., have ever since sent to him for the said leaf, and daily resort to his house to drink the drink thereof. He sells tea from 16s. to 50s. a

pound.'

Probably tea was not in general use domestically so late as 1687; for, in the diary of Henry Earl of Clarendon, he registers that Père Couplet supped with me, and after supper we had tea, which he said was really as good as any he had drank in China.' Had his lordship been in the general habit of drinking tea, he had not, probably, made it a subject of his diary.

While the honour of introducing tea may be disputed between the English and the Dutch, that of coffee remains between the English and the French; yet an Italian intended to have occupied the place of honour. That admirable traveller, Pietro della Valle, writing from Constantinople in 1615, to a Roman, his fellow-countryman, informs him that he should teach Europe in what manner the Turks took what he called Cahué,' or, as the word is written in an Arabic and English pamphlet, printed at Oxford in

6

[ocr errors]

1659, On the nature of the drink Kauhi or coffee.' As this celebrated traveller lived in 1652, it may excite surprise that the first cup of coffee was not drank at Rome. Our own Purchas, at the time that Valle wrote, was also a Pilgrim,' and well knew what was coffee, which they drank as hot as they can endure it; it is as black as soot, and not much unlike it; good, they say, for digestion and mirth.'

6

6

It appears that the celebrated Thevenot, 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. But ten years afterwards a Turkish ambassador at Paris made the beverage highly fashionable. The elegance of the equipage recommended it to the eyes, 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. This elegant introduction made the exotic beverage a subject of conversation; and in 1672, an Armenian at Paris, at the fair-time, opened a coffee-house.

Such is the history of the first use of coffee at Paris. We however had it in use before even the time of Thevenot; for an English Turkish merchant brought a Greek servant in 1652, who, knowing how to roast and make it, opened a house to sell it publicly. I have also discovered his hand-bill, in which he sets forth:

The vertue of the coffee-drink, first publicly made and sold in England by Pasqua Rosee, in St. Michael's Alley, Cornhill, at the sign of his own head.'-I. D'ISRAELI (Curiosities of Literature).

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

H. 18 qrs. 3 bus. 2 pks.

X 84 96 99 120 132

(These may be done by Reduction, or by two factors.)

THE LIGHTHOUSE.

mass'-ive, large and strong

ma'-son-ry, stone work

sub-side', to sink down
trem'-or, a trembling
ra-di-ance, brightness
pro-ject-ing, jutting forward
per'-il-ous, dangerous
reef, a ridge of rocks
verge (n.), the edge
gi-gan'-tic, large, as a giant
surge (n.), a wave
mar-in-er, a sailor

un-veil', to uncover

se-rene', calm

quench'-less, that cannot be put

out

in-ex-tin'-guish-a-ble, quenchless scourg-es, beatings

hur'-ri-cane, a very violent wind
Pro-me'-the-us, one who was said
by the ancient Greeks to have
been chained to a rock by Jupiter
(or Jove) for stealing fire from
heaven

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point some miles away,
The lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,

A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.
Even at this distance I can see the tides,

Upheaving, break unheard along its base, A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides

In the white lip and tremor of the face. And, as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, Through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams far the sudden radiance of its light

With strange, unearthly splendour in its glare.

Not one alone; from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean's verge,
Starts into life a dim gigantic shape,

Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.
Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return,
Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn,

They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,

And eager faces, as the light unveils,

Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,

On his first voyage he saw it fade and sink; And when, returning from adventures wild, He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same

Year after year, through all the silent night Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame, Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp

The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace,
It sees the wild winds lift it on their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it, the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form

Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

« السابقةمتابعة »