Tea and Tea Drinking

by Arthur Reade

PRESSING BAGS OF TEA.

Proctor would have fared little better had he visited the Lake poets; for, according to Miss Mitford, "the Wordsworths have no regular meals, but go to the cupboard when hungry, and eat what they want." Wordsworth, by the way, appears to have liked his tea well sweetened; for, when he visited Charles Lamb, at his lodgings in Enfield, one of the extra "teas" in the week's bill was charged sixpence. On Lamb's inquiry what this meant, the reply was, that "the elderly gentleman"—meaning Wordsworth—"had taken such a quantity of sugar in his tea." Proctor, on the other hand, seems to have had a deep-rooted antipathy to tea, and to have found a wife who shared his feelings. Writing to his "lady-love," he said, "Will your friend give me some blanc-mange? but no, I don't like blanc-mange. I hate nothing but green tea, and my enemies, and insincerity, and affectation, and undue pretence. It is partly, I believe, because you have none of these that I love you so much." No; he liked something stronger than tea, and wrote of "brains made clear by the irresistible strength of beer." But some of the sweetest poems, the brightest novels, and the finest essays have been written without the aid of either wine or beer. Shelley's beverage, for instance, consisted of copious and frequent draughts of cold water, but tea was always grateful. Bulwer Lytton's breakfast consisted of dry toast and a cup of cold tea, or hot tea impatiently tossed into a tumbler half full of cold water. De Quincey said that he usually drank tea from eight o'clock at night to four in the morning. Kant's breakfast consisted of a cup of tea and a pipe of tobacco, and on these he worked eight hours. Motley, the historian, usually rose before seven, and, with the aid of a cup of tea or coffee, wrote until the family breakfast-hour. That revolutionary poet, Victor Hugo, drinks tea, but fortifies it with a drop of rum.

More than three hours a day at the work of literary production is generally considered destructive; but a case is known to the author in which a well-known writer has been engaged in literary composition from seven to ten hours a day for at least ten years. The work he has accomplished in every department of literature during this period is truly astonishing: and its quality is admittedly high. Yet his only stimulant is tea. He is practically a life abstainer, and has never used tobacco. After a spell of work extending over three hours, a cup of tea and a break of half an hour have enabled him to resume his work and to continue writing far into the night. Tea is becoming the favourite stimulant of brain-workers; and although De Quincey drank laudanum for some time, he was enthusiastic in his praise of tea. He said,—

"For tea, though ridiculed by those who are naturally coarse in their nervous sensibilities, or are become so from wine-drinking, and are not susceptible of influence from so refined a stimulant, will always be a favourite beverage of the intellectual; and, for my part, I would have joined Dr. Johnson in a bellum internecinum against Jonas Hanway, or any other impious person who should have presumed to disparage it. But here, to save myself the trouble of too much verbal description, I will introduce a painter, and give him directions for the rest of the picture.... Paint me, then, a room seventeen feet by twelve, and not more than seven and a half feet high, ... and near the fire paint me a tea-table; and (as it is clear that no creature can come to see one on such a stormy night), place only two cups and saucers on the tea-tray; and if you know how to paint such a thing, symbolically or otherwise, paint me an eternal teapot—eternal à parte ante and à parte post; for I usually drink tea from eight o'clock at night to four in the morning. And as it is very unpleasant to make tea, or to pour it out for oneself, paint me a lovely young woman sitting at the table."

But even a "lovely young woman" would have failed to satisfy the tastes of the historian Buckle, who was a most fastidious tea-drinker. "No woman," he declared, "could make tea until he had taught her." The great thing, he believed, was to have the cups and even the spoons warmed. Commenting upon the confession of William Cullen Bryant, that he never took coffee or tea, William Howitt said,—"I regularly take both, find the greatest refreshment in both, and never experienced any deleterious effects from either, except in one instance, when by mistake I took a cup of tea strong enough for ten men. On the contrary, tea is to me a wonderful refresher and reviver. After long-continued exertion, as in the great pedestrian journeys that I formerly made, tea would always, in a manner almost miraculous, banish all my fatigue and diffuse through my whole frame comfort and exhilaration, without any subsequent evil effect. I am quite well aware that this is not the experience of many others—my wife among the number—on whose nervous system tea acts mischievously, producing inordinate wakefulness, and, its continuous use, indigestion. Yet," he wisely adds, "this is one of the things that people should learn and act upon, namely, to take such things as suit them, and avoid such as do not." This is, as a rule, the safest course to pursue, and it is adopted by all sensible persons.

To that brilliant historian, Mr. Justin McCarthy, M.P., tea is not only the most useful stimulant, but the best defence against headache. "I have," he writes, "always been a liberal drinker of tea. I have found it of immense benefit in keeping off headache, my only malady. Probably tea-drinking, even if not immoderate, does some hurt to the nerves; but I have never been able to satisfy myself that this is so in my case. Certainly, few men have worked harder and suffered less from ill-health than myself." Another famous man of letters testifies to the value of tea: "The only sure brain-stimulants with me," writes Professor Dowden, "are plenty of fresh air and tea; but each of these in large quantities produces a kind of intoxication; the intoxication of a great amount of air causing wakefulness, with a delightful confusion of spirits, without the capacity of steady thought; tea intoxication unsettles and enfeebles my will; but then a great dose of tea often does get good work out of me (though I may pay for it afterwards), while alcohol renders all mental work impossible." "Tea is my favourite tonic when I am tired or languid," confesses Mr. George R. Sims, "and always has a stimulating effect." And the Rev. John Clifford, an able and scholarly Baptist minister, testifies that tea has enabled him to accomplish some very hard work. He says,—

"For at least a quarter of a century I have attempted to solve the problem how to get the maximum of power out of a somewhat feeble body, and retain the maximum of health; but having been a total abstainer for nearly twenty-eight years, I have no experience of the relation of alcoholics and narcotics to the solution of the problem. In preparing for a succession of examinations (B.A., M.A., LL.D., and B.Sc.) at the London University, whilst I had to discharge the duties of a London pastorate, I drank tea somewhat copiously, on an average thrice a day. I worked twelve and sometimes fourteen hours a day over extended periods, preached regularly to the same congregation thrice a week, directed the affairs of an aggressive church, conducted several classes for young men, and at the same time matriculated in the First Class, took a First Class B.A., was bracketed first at the M.A., took honours at the LL.B. and at the B.Sc. in three subjects; and I found that on tea I could work longer, with a clearer head, and with more sustained intensity, than on any other beverage. But I am convinced that good as tea-drinking is for prolonged mental strain, it was very prejudicial to me, and has permanently lowered the digestive force. Raisins (as suggested by Sir W. Gull) and grapes I have found in more recent years a most convenient and effective method of reinforcing mental strength whilst at work; but the wisest course is to keep as robust health as possible, by horse exercise, or daily walks in the early morning, and before retiring to rest, by the use of dumb-bells and the gymnastic bat."

Harriet Martineau strongly condemned the use of alcohol by brain-workers, and said that her stimulants were fresh air and cold water; but this remarkable old maid dearly loved a cup of tea. Maclise sketched her sitting by the fireside, her feet on the fender, steadying with one hand a pan on the fire, teapot, cup and saucer and milk-jug on the table by her side, and her cat nestling on her shoulder. Miss Ellen Terry also finds tea the best stimulant. In reply to the question, "What do you drink?" put to her by a Chicago reporter, she stated that her favourite beverage was tea. She takes tea after every meal, and also the first thing in the morning.

Professor Everett, of Belfast, on the other hand, says that he has frequently suffered more from nervous excitability due to tea or coffee, than from any other kind of stimulant. Mr. Philip Gilbert Hamerton, the artist, confesses that at one time he did himself harm by drinking tea, but has given up coffee as well as tea. The Rev. Henry Solly, who has laboured for many years among workingmen, has abstained from tea and coffee during the last fifteen years, as they caused nervous excitement, prostration, sleeplessness, and great inequality of spirits. He hardly likes, however, denouncing the use of tea, as it seems to him the only refuge (except coffee, which to some constitutions is more injurious) for those persons who, though of a nervous and excitable temperament, cannot persuade themselves to give up all stimulants, and yet desire to discountenance the use of alcohol. But he is quite sure that it causes or promotes many nervous diseases, particularly neuralgia, and not seldom leads to that "sinking" and depression which is so frequent a cause of resort being had to "nips" in the shape of glasses of wine or spirits.