allies
about coffee.

Prince Talleyrand (1754-1839), the French diplomat and wit, has given us
the cleverest summing up of the ideal cup of coffee. He said it should
be "_Noir comme le diable, chaud comme l'enfer, pur comme un ange, doux
comme l'amour._" Or in English, "black as the devil, hot as hell, pure
as an angel, sweet as love."

This quip has been wrongfully attributed to Brillat-Savarin. Talleyrand
said also:

A cup of coffee lightly tempered with good milk detracts nothing
from your intellect; on the contrary, your stomach is freed by it,
and no longer distresses your brain; it will not hamper your mind
with troubles, but give freedom to its working. Suave molecules of
Mocha stir up your blood, without causing excessive heat; the organ
of thought receives from it a feeling of sympathy; work becomes
easier, and you will sit down without distress to your principal
repast, which will restore your body, and afford you a calm
delicious night.

Among coffee drinkers a high place must be given to Prince Bismarck
(1815-1898). He liked coffee unadulterated. While with the Prussian army
in France, he one day entered a country inn and asked the host if he had
any chicory in the house. He had. Bismarck said: "Well, bring it to me;
all you have." The man obeyed, and handed Bismarck a canister full of
chicory.

"Are you sure this is all you have?" demanded the chancellor.

"Yes, my lord, every grain."

"Then," said Bismarck, keeping the canister by him, "go now and make me
a pot of coffee."

This same story has been related of Francois Paul Jules Grevy
(1807-1891), president of France, 1879-1887. According to the French
story, Grevy never took wine, even at dinner. He was, however,
passionately fond of coffee. To be certain of having his favorite
beverage of the best quality, he always, when he could, prepared it
himself. Once he was invited, with a friend, M. Bethmont, to a hunting
party by M. Menier, the celebrated manufacturer of chocolate, at
Noisiel. It happened that M. Grevy and M. Bethmont lost themselves in
the forest. Trying to find their way out, they stumbled upon a little
wine house, and stopped for a rest. They asked for something to drink.
M. Bethmont found his wine excellent; but, as usual, Grevy would not
drink. He wanted coffee, but he was afraid of the decoction which would
be brought him. He got a good cup, however, and this is how he managed
it: