‘As one of the most enticing and inspiring beverages, coffee is worthy of our unconditional love. It can stave off sleep or render slumber light and agreeable; it revives the imagination, lifts the spirits, facilitates digestion, and dissipates drunkenness; it enhances the wit of those who have some, and lends some for a moment to those who are promised the Kingdom of Heaven, fortifies the mind and improves digestion.’
Horace Raisson, Code gourmand, 1827
It was during the 19th century that coffee entered the daily life in France. According to Balzac, it’s virtue lay in stimulating the imagination as well as increasing the capacity for work, which the author considered to be the two founding pillars of art. Balzac was in the habit of working at night, and coffee helped him avoid succumbing to sleep.
In the following passage, the author makes no bones about his enthusiasm for the almost hallucinatory effects of coffee.
‘From then on, everything becomes agitated: ideas march like the battalions of a great army onto the battlefield where the battle has begun. Memories charge in, flags flying; the light cavalry of comparisons advances at a magnificent gallop; the artillery of logic rushes in with its convoy and its charges; witticisms appear like snipers; characters rise up; the paper covers itself in ink, because the evening begins and ends with torrents of black water, as the battle does with its gunpowder.’
Honoré de Balzac, Traité des excitants modernes, 1839 (Translation Kassy Hayden)
In prey to this addiction, Balzac admits to excess coffee consumption and complains he suffers from it, as in this letter to madame Hanska (23 January 1843) ‘The coffee I drink in excessive quantities has caused a return of my horrible stomach pains.’
In his Treatise on Modern Stimulants, a short and vivid pamphlet with a strong dose of humour, the writer reflects on the effects of his era’s common drugs—tea, coffee, alcohol, tobacco and, of course, coffee—both on public health and artistic creation.
Indeed, Balzac’s consumption was by no means meagre, his accounts attest the purchase of some 80 kilogrammes of coffee annually, or 20 to 30 times more than the average Parisian at the time. Each page of La Comédie humaine seems to have been written to the tune of around four cups of coffee.
Six ans avant sa mort, il écrit à Mme Hanska ces paroles mélancoliques : ‘Make no mistake about it, my dear, the cause of illness lies in the abuse of coffee and late night work.’