TOBACCO IN RELATION TO HEALTH AND CHARACTER
But oh, what witchcraft of a stronger kind,
Or cause too deep for human search to find,
Makes earth-born weeds imperial man enslave,
Not little souls, but e’en the wise and brave?
ARBUCKLE.
Is smoking injurious to health? is an old and oft-repeated question which
has agitated men’s minds for fully three centuries, and out of which
has grown a literature of peculiar interest, now signalised by royal
Counterblasts and Papal Bulls, now rising in grateful pæans for the
blessing conferred on weary humanity by the weed whose—
quiet spirit lulls the lab’ring brain,
Lures back to thought the flights of vacant mirth,
Consoles the mourner, soothes the couch of pain,
And breathes contentment round the humble hearth.
The utterances of the ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Michael Hicks
Beach, calling attention to the vast consumption of tobacco in these
islands have given force and significance to the question, and naturally
they suggest the further inquiry as to how we stand in the matter in
relation to the past and to other civilised nations. On the threshold
of the inquiry figures present themselves pointing directly to the
conclusion that the British nation is spending upon the indulgence
almost as much money as it does on the time-honoured staff of life, our
daily bread. Certainly this aspect of the subject is somewhat startling.
If the consumption of tobacco has grown to such a magnitude that it
threatens to exceed that of wheat, then, clearly its consideration has
become a question of national importance. It is the purpose of this
chapter to lay before the reader some facts, statistical, botanical, and
chemical, relating to this Indian weed which has done more to set good
people by the ears than the whole world of Flora besides. To this end it
will be necessary to ponder for a brief space on the skeleton forms and
figures embalmed in State Blue Books.
Board of Trade returns are not what may be called recreative reading
for leisure hours, but looked at good-naturedly we soon come to regard
them as we should sure-footed sumpter mules carrying the account books
of commerce. A little searching and sifting among their packs, brings us
upon figures which plainly tell the story of a steady, constant growth
of the smoking habit, and that it has, within the last half-century,
increased in strength more than two-fold. The ratio per head of the
population, briefly stated, is as follows: In 1841, when the population
of Great Britain, and approximately of Ireland, was 26,700,000, the
quantity of tobacco cleared through the Custom-house for consumption in
this kingdom was 23,096,281 lbs., or 13¾ ounces for each inhabitant. In
1861, with a population of 28,887,000, the quantity of tobacco imported
for home consumption amounted to 35,413,846 lbs., showing that its
use had increased to 19½ ounces per head. Ten years later (1871) the
proportion was 23 ounces for each person. And in 1891 the ratio per head
had risen to 26 ounces; the quantity imported being 60,927,915 lbs. for a
population of 38,000,000. Put plainly, this increase of consumption may
only mean that the man who, in 1841, smoked only one pipe a day, in 1891
found himself so much better off that he could afford to smoke two.
Here, however, we come upon an important factor which, in calculating
the weight of tobacco actually consumed, must be taken into account. Dr.
Samuel Smiles, in the course of his investigations into the subject,
discovered that in the process of manufacturing the leaf into the tobacco
of commerce, water was added to the extent of 33 per cent. of the whole.
The Statistical Office of the Customs has courteously furnished the
writer of these lines with the further information that ‘Raw tobacco when
imported contains naturally 13 per cent. of moisture, but when it is cut
up for sale, the total moisture must not exceed 33 per cent.’[2]
In estimating the weight of the weed actually consumed, it will be
necessary to make an addition of 20 per cent. to the weight of the
manufactured leaf imported. Since 1891 there has been a gradual increase
in the quantity imported. In the financial year 1904-5 the total of all
kinds amounted to 107,862,489 lbs. Of this 83,374,670 lbs. was retained
for Home use, giving 1.95 lbs. per head of the population, and yielding a
revenue to the national exchequer of £13,184,767.
As to the cost to the nation of this enormous quantity of tobacco,
the official returns state that the declared value in 1895 was, for
manufactured £1,256,313, and for unmanufactured £2,097,603, together
£3,353,916. It is clear, however, that these figures can have little or
no significance from the consumer’s standpoint. Besides the declared
value and the Customs duty, there is to be taken into account the cost of
manufacture and all the expenses incidental thereto; the retail dealer’s
profits, varying from about 20 per cent. in the poorer districts, to 75
per cent. in the best west-end shops. It may be mentioned also that the
Customs duties vary, according to the kind of the tobacco imported, from
3s. 6d. to 5s. a pound weight, and that the price for which it is sold
to the merchant, ranges from 1s. 6d. per pound. No satisfactory data
upon which a fair estimate can be based are to be found here. But, if
an average price per ounce be taken, as a starting point, of the charge
made by the tobacconist to the consumer of all the various kinds, from
the patrician Havana to the plebeian ‘rough-cut,’ then we may arrive at
a fairly reasonable estimate. Sixpence an ounce is rather below than
above the average price paid for the weed. At this rate, however, a total
annual expenditure is reached of £31,304,108. Then there is the almost
endless variety of nick-nacks which accompany the use of tobacco, from
the dhudeen and metal tobacco box of the Irish peasant, to the lordly,
gold-mounted meerschaum and amber pipe, with cases, pouches, jars,
pipe-racks, and all the paraphernalia the nicotian epicure demands for
the use and adornment of his favourite indulgence. And how is the cost of
these accessories to be obtained? If, out of the 40,000,000 inhabiting
these islands there should be 10,000,000 smokers, each spending on an
average 2s. 6d. only a year on these things, then would the annual outlay
to the consumer mount up to the grand total of £32,554,108.
Again the writer has to acknowledge his indebtedness to the statistical
branch of the Customs for the interesting information that the quantity
of wheat consumed in this kingdom in 1895 was about 27,500,000
quarters—770,000,000 lbs.—and that the average value was 24s. a quarter,
making a total value of £33,000,000. Thus we see how nearly the sum
expended upon tobacco-smoking approaches to the sum spent upon wheat.
Comparing the quantities of the two commodities we can only say, so
much the better for the consumer of wheat, who obtains in weight about
fifteen times more of bread than he could purchase of tobacco for the
same sum—bearing in mind that wheat requires 45 per cent. of water for
its conversion into bread. And herein lies the secret of the large
consumption of tobacco: bread is so cheap, the poor man can afford to
indulge in a little more of his comforter than he could formerly.
Commenting upon the vast increase in the consumption of tobacco, the
Chancellor of the Exchequer was so mindful of the public interest as
to give expression to his matured conviction that ‘Everything spent on
tobacco by those who have enough to eat is waste.’ Acknowledging himself
to be a non-smoker, and perhaps prejudiced, he would only appeal to
smokers whether this was not waste: ‘It is calculated,’ said Sir Michael,
‘by the Customs authorities that no less a value than £1,000,000 is
literally thrown into the gutter in the shape of the ends of cigarettes
and cigars. It is all the better for the revenue, but I think it may be a
subject of consideration for smokers.’
Looked at broadly, all such considerations are relative—relative to the
numbers who smoke and to their ability to spend. Naturally we turn to
our neighbours across the silver streak and ask what they are doing; are
they more frugal than we are in the use of the weed? Germany, always to
the fore where painstaking and close attention to minutiæ is required,
tells us that Holland uses the leaf at the rate of a trifle over 7 lbs.
per head of her population; Austria, 3.8 lbs.; Denmark, 3.7 lbs.;
Switzerland, 3.3 lbs.; Belgium, 3.2 lbs.; Germany, 3 lbs.; Sweden and
Norway, each 2.3 lbs.; France, 2.1 lbs.; Italy, Russia, Spain may be
classed together with a consumption of 1¼ lb.; while the United States
rises in the scale to 4½ lbs. for each inhabitant. There is much virtue
in figures; they give us the comforting assurance that after all we are
not so bad as our neighbours by a pound or more, taking the average
consumption of the leading nations of the world. So we may be permitted
a little longer to smoke our pipe in peace undeterred by fearful
forebodings of evil to come.
But then the whole world smokes, and what the whole world does must
surely have some show of justification. It is estimated that two thousand
millions of pounds weight are consumed every year, and that its money
value far exceeds five hundred million pounds sterling; its production
finds remunerative employment for countless thousands of families. In
America alone the tobacco plantations cover an area of 400,000 acres, and
in the labour of cultivation 40,000 persons win their daily bread. And
what of the million of money wantonly thrown into the gutter every year?
The smoker may well pause over his pipe and consider what this may really
mean. One million pounds divided among forty million people would give
sixpence to each. That every man, woman, and child should in this manner
waste sixpence a year is doubtless much to be deplored; in the eyes of
our excellent guardian of the public purse it is reprehensible. But is
the whole of this money or money’s worth really lost past recovery?
Investigations made at the instance of the Board of Inland Revenue
concerning the fate that befalls cigar ends have been the means of
revealing a curious aspect of our complex social system. Amid the crowd,
the bustle and din of struggling humanity, glimpses may be caught of a
quiet fellow-being plodding along the highways and byways of the great
metropolis, with a bag slung over his shoulder, and his eyes fixed on the
gutters intent upon picking up these unconsidered trifles, or wending
his way to the side door of some hotel or hall where convivial souls do
congregate of an evening, and there doing a little private business with
the janitor, who pours into his bag these spoils of the night’s revelry.
And so it comes about that out of the gutters and waste places of the
earth there ultimately return to the manufacturer the sorry remains of
the once-treasured Indian weed. Many a young hopeful of slender purse
hugs with pride his penny or twopenny cigar clad in a new coat, little
dreaming of its having in a former existence shone, glow-worm like, in
another sphere. Then there are ‘fancy mixtures’ made up for the pipe,
enticingly scented with an odour unknown to the weed, and which, as if
ashamed of the connection, vanishes in the burning, leaving not a trace
behind, save wonder at what can have become of it, for the smoker gets
none. And have we not always in view the lowly wayfarer along life’s
by-paths, whose feet have trodden thorny places and stumbled, maybe? He
sees in the castaway an emblem of himself, and fraternally picks out of
the gutter a little consolation for the buffets of the day; for tobacco
has been aptly called the poor man’s anodyne. And so life is rounded off
with a smoke. Possibly thoughts such as these mingle with the smoker’s
reflections on the subject of waste to the consideration of which Sir
Michael invited their attention. But the economic phase the question
presents may be safely left to settle itself; for, after all, the cost of
the indulgence is the merest trifle compared with the price paid for it
in, say, Jacobean time, when paternal governments, out of a too tender
regard for the interests of their loving subjects of mean estate, levied
a tax upon tobacco which if converted into the coinage of the present
day would be equivalent to six or seven times the sum for which it may
now be purchased from the tobacconist. Curiously enough, another Michael
(Drayton), well-nigh three hundred years ago (_Polyolbion_, 1613), raised
his voice more in sorrow than in anger against the extravagance of his
times, as compared with the days
Before the Indian weed so strongly was embrac’t,
Wherein such mighty summes we prodigally waste.
In this love of the weed, and the extravagant sums expended upon it,
is to be found the key to Robert Burton’s high praise and vigorous
condemnation, uttered in one breath, of tobacco. As an example of
Elizabethan nervous vigour the passage is worth quoting:
Tobacco! divine, rare, super-excellent tobacco! which goes
far beyond all the panaceas, potable gold, and philosopher’s
stones; a sovereign remedy to all diseases; a virtuous herb,
if it be well qualified, opportunely taken, and medicinally
used; but as it is commonly abused by most men, who take it as
tinkers do ale, ’tis a plague, a mischief, a violent purge of
goods, lands, health, hellish, devilish, and damned tobacco,
the ruin and overthrow of body and soul.
Democritus Junior did not mince matters, either in writing or when
indulging in lusty banter with bargemen on the Thames.
Of more vital importance than the price paid for it is the consideration
of its effects on health and character, and, if we would view the
subjects in its larger bearings, on our physical and moral organisation
it is obviously necessary that we should
Survey the whole nor seek slight faults to find
Where nature moves, and rapture charms the mind.
At the outset, however, it cannot be too strongly emphasised that there
is no question as to the baneful action of tobacco in any form on growing
youths. Until the age of adolescence is safely passed, or till the riper
age of one and twenty has been attained, there should be no thought
of smoking. The tests and experiments of physiologists, the untrained
observation of laymen, and the accumulated experience of civilised
nations are agreed in this conclusion. Remarks pointing to the rapid
growth of the smoking habit among youths were made by the Chancellor
of the Exchequer in his recent Budget speech, where, commenting upon
the augmented revenue from tobacco, he said it was mainly due to the
vast consumption of cigarettes, which were specially attractive to our
youthful population. ‘I am told,’ Sir Michael added, ‘of one manufacturer
who makes two millions of cigarettes a day who hardly made any a few
years ago.’
Every-day observation bears out the statement that the cigarette is the
chosen smoke of youths. Go where we will, in crowded streets or country
lanes, boys of the tender age of from nine or ten years upwards are
almost constantly met with, smoking paper cigarettes, who were they
better advised would prefer toffy, as was the case a few years ago.
Surely every one knows that children cannot go on smoking tobacco with
impunity, without, in fact, doing themselves life-long injury. Since
parents are too heedless of their children’s welfare to prevent them from
pursuing a practice the inevitable results of which will, by-and-by,
appear in stunted, weakly growth and the train of evil which follow on
deranged nerve-tissue, it would seem to be no more than humane that the
Legislature should step in and prohibit the sale of tobacco in any form
to children under the age of say, sixteen. Already some of the states
of North America have instituted penal enactments for the protection of
children against the indulgence, which to them is pernicious.
But what shall be said of the young man whose downy lip bears testimony
to his approaching majority—the age when life is a romance and the future
aglow with roseate dreams? He knows himself to be the hope and pride of
his parents, that in him is centred all sorts of brilliant possibilities.
Nothing could be more fitting, he thinks, than that he should proclaim to
the world that he is now a man by airing the park with his first cigar.
And who so heartless as to say him nay? He now becomes confidential with
the tobacconist, and learns from him the names of the choicest brands,
as the Vegueras, the kind specially prepared for the Prince of Wales,
selected from the finest growths of the plant raised in the Veulto Abajo
district of Cuba, as well as the outer signs of many another rich and
rare leaf from the gardens of the Queen of the Antilles, or from the
plantations of the Indian Archipelago. By-and-by his whole energies will
be devoted to the service of his king and country, doing the world’s
roughest work away out in the wilds of Africa, or administering justice,
it may be, among lawless tribes in Imperial India; and many a time, when
belated on a desolate track with nothing to cover him but a blanket
borrowed from his trusty peon, he will draw from the recesses of a deep
pocket or knapsack a homely briar-root with more real pleasure than he
ever felt when smoking the choicest cigar on the Mall.
The temperament of each individual or of a race is an important factor
in a judicious consideration of the subject; it opens out a field of
inquiry of no ordinary interest, more particularly as regards eastern
nations. By temperament physiologists mean certain physical and mental
characteristics arising from the predominant humours of the body. Galen
in the second century was perhaps the first to employ the term to
designate, according to the teachings of the old school, the condition
of the four elements of the body—the blood, choler, phlegm, gall—and
the varying combinations of these, recognised to-day as the sanguine,
lymphatic, nervous, or bilious temperaments. Interest in this aspect of
the subject is heightened when we consider the marvellous effect the
consumption of tobacco has had on races inhabiting Western Asia. Speaking
on this curious point in the Indian Section of the Imperial Institute
in February, 1896, Sir George Birdwood called attention to the change
wrought in the character of the Turks by its use. He remarked that
in ancient times the Scythians were a ceaseless scourge to
the neighbouring nations; that they were referred to by the
prophet Jeremiah as a ‘seething caldron,’ ever boiling over in
fierce and cruel eruptions from the North. Where are they now?
They have become the modern Turks; and the magic which changed
them from restless, destructive nomads into the quiet and only
too conservative sedentary Turks, Von Moltke tells us in his
_Letters from Turkey_ was none other than the acquired American
habit of smoking tobacco.
Coming from so profound an observer of men as the great German
strategist, this testimony to the influence of the Indian weed on human
character is to be accepted as a valuable contribution to our knowledge.
And yet, viewed in the light of recent events in Turkey, the marvellous
transformation mentioned would seem to be hardly yet completed. Besides,
may not other influences tending to modify the character of the Turks
be found in their four centuries of intermarriage with tribes of a
less turbulent disposition, as with Persians and Circassians, than the
fiery, stubborn mountaineers from whom they had descended? It seems
but reasonable to think so. Let us hasten, however, to note that other
distinguished travellers in Turkey speak to the same effect, and that
they, too, attribute the change to the sobering and soothing action of
tobacco upon them. Dr. Madden, whose _Travels in Turkey and Egypt_ were
published in 1829, says (i. 16) that
the pleasure the Turks had in the reverie consequent on the
indulgence in the pipe consisted in a contemporary annihilation
of thought. The people really cease to think when they have
been long smoking. I have asked Turks repeatedly what they have
been thinking of during their long reveries, and they replied
‘Of nothing.’ I could not remind them of a single idea having
occupied their minds; and in the consideration of the Turkish
character there is no more curious circumstance connected with
their moral condition.
Further testimony to Nicotiana’s benign sway over human character is
borne by Mr. E. W. Lane, the talented translator of the _Arabian Nights_
and author of the _Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians_. In this
latter work Mr. Lane says that
in the character of the Turks and Arabs who have become
addicted to its use it has induced considerable changes,
particularly rendering them more inactive than they were in
earlier times, leading them to waste over the pipe many hours
which might be more profitably employed; but it has had another
and better effect—that of superseding in a great measure the
use of wine, which, to say the least, is very injurious to the
health of the inhabitants of hot climates.… It may further be
remarked in the way of apology for the pipe, as employed by the
Turks and Arabs, that the mild kinds of tobacco generally used
by them have a gentle effect; they calm the nervous system,
and, instead of stupefying, sharpen the intellect.
He next pays a high tribute to the Oriental method of smoking, and
assures the reader that the pleasures of Eastern society are considerably
enhanced by the use of the pipe, adding, ‘It affords the peasant, too,
a cheap and sober refreshment, and probably often restrains him from
less innocent indulgences.’ Mr. Layard and Mr. Crawfurd, whose large
experience of Eastern peoples is known to the world, have each recorded
his opinion to the effect that the use of tobacco has contributed very
much towards the present sobriety of Asiatics. The presence of an array
of witnesses such as these to the power of the pipe to subdue the savage
breast naturally suggests the thought of a new field of operations for
its use. That laudable organisation, the Peace Society, which seeks to
combat man’s militant instincts by such persuasions as fall short of the
shillelagh, ought certainly to find in the Indian’s peace-pipe with a
well-filled tobacco-pouch a coadjutor for the propagation of its amiable
doctrines; at any rate, a pioneer that would prepare the soil for the
seed and the advent of the millennium. Lord Clarendon, when Minister
of Foreign Affairs, used to excuse his room reeking with the fumes of
tobacco by declaring that diplomacy itself was a mere question of the
judicious application of tobacco between opposing plenipotentiaries. The
pipe, indeed, has always been recognised as a good diplomatist. If you
want time to consider well before committing yourself to an answer you
find that the pipe won’t draw, though you puff and puff; then, having
gained time and cleared your thoughts, the pipe mends, a cloud is formed,
and out of chaos comes light, and now you are ready with your argument,
though you may begin with, ‘your pardon, friend, but what were we talking
about?’ If diplomacy can be soothed and led out of thorny paths into
pleasant ways, then assuredly a useful career awaits the weed in the
House, where the magic of its suasive breath would subdue a bellicose
Parliament into easy complaisance, and so confer an inestimable blessing
on a weary Legislature.
But it would be well to take a closer view of this marvellous weed which
enters so largely into our domestic economy, dipping into our purses,
affecting in some measure our health and habits, in a way, too, that
leads people to think that surely a mischief-loving Puck lurks among
its alluring leaves, delighting to send its votaries, some into dreams
of Elysium, others into visions of—another place. Nicotiana, the name
science has bestowed on the plant in recognition of the services of Jean
Nicot in spreading a knowledge of it over Europe, more particularly
as regards its supposed medicinal properties, is a member of a large
and varied family of the natural order _Solanacæ_, one of the largest
genera, containing about 900 species. The whole family is more or less
suspicious; some members are decidedly bad, as, for example, the deadly
nightshade, henbane, and mandrake, evil names which startle the timorous
and all self-respecting people. Relief, however, comes, and confidence is
restored, when we learn that linked with Nicotiana as twin sister is our
old and esteemed favourite the potato, whose humble services to hungry
humanity are incalculable. Yet out of the leaves and fruit of this useful
and innocent member of the family chemists extract a deadly poison
called _solanine_, which they describe as an acrid narcotic poison, two
grains of which given to a rabbit caused paralysis of the posterior
extremities, and death in two hours. Traces of this poison are also found
in healthy tubers. And yet nobody was ever poisoned by eating potatoes;
far from this, many in times of scarcity have died for want of them.
Considering these things, smokers may possibly comfort themselves with
the thought that tobacco does not stand alone in evil repute, that even
a vegetable which enters so largely into the composition of humanity as
does the potato contains a portion—an infinitesimal portion it is true,
but still some portion—of the element of evil which seems to permeate
more or less all things earthly. But let them reserve their judgment
until the evidence of the chemist has been heard. It may be urged, too,
that the highly prized virtues of the tomato, a family connection, might
be taken into account in estimating the sins of the shady ones. The
love-apple of Eris, far from creating discord, gives unalloyed pleasure,
affording the epicure a gastronomic delight.
The genus _Nicotiana_ comprises upwards of forty species, of which
five only are cultivated for tobacco, and, of these, three stand out
conspicuously as the best and most favoured ones of commerce. In botany
they are designated:—(1) _Nicotiana Tabacum_; (2) _N. rustica_; (3) _N.
persica_. They differ one from another chiefly in the degree of thickness
of the midrib and fibres, and in the evenness of the leaves, which are
usually hairy and somewhat clammy feeling. The first mentioned is the
typical tobacco plant of America, whose home is still where Raleigh’s
first colonists to the New World found it, in Virginia. From its leaves
is prepared the great bulk of the tobacco consumed in this country, as
well as in America. It is a strong, handsome, flowering perennial,
growing in latitudes varying from about 40° Fahr. to the tropics. And a
most voracious feeder, it quickly exhausts the richest soils, yet it is
so hardy that it will thrive in almost any soil and anywhere. In tropical
lands, however, particularly such as are light, dry, and rich in potash,
it flourishes most luxuriantly, and attains its fullest and healthiest
development, sometimes rising to the grand altitude of 15 feet, though 6
feet is the usual limit of its upward growth. The root is large, long,
and fibrous; the stalk or central stem is erect, strong, of the thickness
of a man’s wrist, and hairy; towards the top it divides into branches.
The leaves embrace the stem from the base; they are large, symmetrical,
lanceolated, and of a pale-green colour, measuring usually 2 feet by 18
inches. From the summit of the branching stalks clusters of rose-coloured
flowers are produced of a bell-shape, the segment of the corolla being
tapering and pointed; the seeds are contained in long sharp-pointed
pods, and are so small that in one ounce no fewer than 100,000 have been
counted.
Next in order of importance in a commercial sense ranks the Syrian
plant, _N. rustica_. It is nevertheless a native of America which
transplantation into Syrian soil has greatly improved in all those
qualities which commend themselves to delicate smokers. It differs from
its sister plant of Virginia chiefly in its dwarf-like stature, for it
seldom attains a higher growth than three or four feet, and its leaves
are not so symmetrical; they are of an ovate shape, and are not attached
to the centre stem, but issue from the branching stalks, which in the
season bear green flowers; the segment of the corolla is rounded. This,
too, is a hardy plant, flourishes well in almost any latitude, and
ripens earlier than the _N. Tabacum_. For some years back it has been
largely cultivated in Germany, Holland, and the countries bordering on
the Mediterranean; indeed, it at one time flourished rapaciously in our
own fields, flowering from midsummer to Michaelmas. From its leaves are
obtained, under the varying conditions of soil and climate, the kinds of
tobacco vended to the consumer under the names of Turkish, Syrian, and
Latakia. And on account of its retaining much of its primitive colour
all through the process of drying and manufacture it is recognised in
commerce as ‘green tobacco.’
In the third variety we have the beautiful white flowering Persian plant,
from whose oblong stem-leaves is prepared the famous Shiraz tobacco,
_N. persica_. It is now recognised as a native of Persia, though its
original home is undoubtedly across the Atlantic. Being slow to ignite,
this aromatic weed does not lend itself readily to the cigar; but surely
the difficulty might be overcome by using an Indian wrapper. The planters
of Dindigul, or, as Sir W. W. Hunter gives the name in the _Imperial
Gazetteer of India_, Dindu-Kal (Rock of Dindu), are now sending to Europe
large quantities of their fine flavoured tobacco leaf which would form a
very good wrapper for this fragrant but slow-burning weed.
There is a fourth variety named _Nicotiana Finis_, which has found much
favour in the private gardens of England. It is not so symmetrical as
those just mentioned, its leaves are small, widely separated, in fact,
rather straggling; but under the training of a skilled gardener it
is made to assume a bushy form. Its chief attraction is found in the
delicate white flowers which it produces; these during the daytime droop,
but at sundown they generally assume an erect posture and become firm,
then the petals expand and the flower emits a delicious perfume, sweeter
far than jessamine. In the tobacco plant English florists and gardeners
have found an accessory for filling up vacant spots in their shrubberies
with good effect; and the side-beds along a carriage drive, or the
shelves in a greenhouse, can be pleasingly diversified by selections
from the varying kinds the genus _Nicotiana_ presents. As an ornamental
flowering plant it is certainly worthy of a place among the many charming
indigenous and exotic shrubs which nowadays adorn private grounds. Then
its uses either as a fumigator or as a wash are such as all experienced
gardeners know well how to appreciate; in either form it is a powerful
prophylactic, readily destroying insect pests and the germs of blight.
Let us now pass into the domain of the chemist and view for a while the
operations of this modern magician as he summons the genii of the Indian
weed to appear before him in all their naked deformity, and compels them
to yield up their secrets. There is no poetry in the chemist’s crucible;
imagination fails to lend a transient charm to the grim constituents of
the bewitching leaf. Here, in his silent retreat, the analyst weighs
and measures, tests and resolves into their original elements whatever
things, foul or fair, come into his hands. He weighs a pound of the
prepared leaves, steeps them in water, and subjects them to distilation;
presently there rises to the surface a volatile, fatty oil which congeals
and floats. It has the odour of tobacco and is bitter to the tongue; on
the mouth and throat it produces a sensation similar to that caused by
long-continued smoking. Taking a minute particle on the point of a needle
he swallows it, and immediately experiences a feeling of giddiness,
nausea, and an inclination to vomit. And yet the quantity obtained of
this evil thing from the pound of leaves is barely two grains. Now he
adds a little sulphuric acid to the water, and distils with quicklime;
soon there is dislodged from the hidden cells of the leaves a small
quantity of a volatile, oily, colourless, alkaline fluid, the prince
of the genii—nicotine. The odour of an old clay pipe grown black with
age hangs about it: it is acrid, burning narcotic, and scarcely less
poisonous than prussic acid, a single drop having the power to kill a
dog. It boils at a temperature of 482° Fahr., and rises into vapour at a
point below that of burning tobacco, consequently it is always present
in the smoke. Evaporating one drop of this subtle essence you are at
once seized with a feeling of suffocation, and experience difficulty in
breathing. Distilled alone in a retort yet another element is called up
of an oily nature, which resembles in its chief characteristics an oil
obtained by a similar process from the leaves of the foxglove (_Digitalis
purpurea_). This also is acrid and poisonous; one drop applied to the
tongue of a cat brought on convulsions, and, in two minutes, death. All
these evil things the chemist tells us dwell in the heart of the Indian
herb, and, mingling with other unseen elements, lure men on to their
fate. In the mystical glare of his laboratory there looms into shape
before our mental vision the spectral form of the King of Denmark, in
_Hamlet_, telling of the dark deeds done
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of my ears did pour
The leprous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body.[3]
And memory recalls the case of the Comte de Bocarmé who was executed at
Mons, in 1851, for poisoning his brother-in-law with nicotine, in order
to obtain reversion of his property. The simple though crafty Hottentot,
too, finds in the juice of tobacco a potent agent wherewith he can rid
himself of the snake that, unbidden, glides into his kraal. Under the
influence of one drop the reptile dies as instantly as if struck by an
electric spark.
A distinguished physician and man of science, Sir B. W. Richardson, has
tested the tobacco leaf and all its component parts with a thoroughness
which puts to flight all doubts as to what it is ‘men put into their
mouths to take away their brains.’ The chief results of his experiments
may be briefly summarised. Although evident differences prevail in
respect to the products arising from different cigars, different tobacco,
and different pipes, there are certain substances common to all varieties
of tobacco-smoke. Firstly, in all tobacco-smoke there is a certain amount
of watery vapour which can be separated from it. Secondly, a small
quantity of free carbon is always present; it is to the presence of this
constituent that the blue colour of tobacco is due. It is this carbon
which in confirmed and inveterate smokers settles on the back part of the
throat and on the lining of the membrane of the bronchial tubes, creating
often a copious secretion which it discolours. Thirdly, the presence of
ammonia can be detected in small quantity, and this gives to the smoke
an alkaline reaction that bites the tongue after long smoking; it is
the ammonia that makes the tonsils and throat of the smoker so dry, and
induces him to quaff as he smokes, and that partly excites the salivary
glands to secrete so freely. This element also exerts an influence on the
blood. Fourthly, the test of lime-water applied to the leaf shows the
presence of carbonic acid. In the smoke the quantity differs considerably
in different kinds of tobacco; to the action of this constituent Sir B.
W. Richardson traces the sleepiness, lassitude, and headache which follow
upon prolonged indulgence of the pipe. Fifthly, the smoke of tobacco
yields a product having an oily appearance and possessing poisonous
properties; this is commonly known as nicotine, or oil of tobacco, which
on further analysis is found to contain three substances, namely, a fluid
alkaloid (the nicotine of the chemist), a volatile substance, having an
empyreumatic odour, and an extract of a dark resinous character, of a
bitter taste. From this comes the smell peculiar to stale tobacco which
hangs so long about the clothing of habitual smokers—if the smell be
from good Eastern-grown tobacco many persons think it wholesome. It is
nevertheless this extract which creates in those unaccustomed to its use
a feeling akin to sea-sickness. Hence it appears that the more common
effects are due to the carbonic acid and ammonia liberated in the process
of smoking, while the rarer and more severe symptoms are due to the
nicotine, the empyreumatic substance, and the resin.
As to the effects of tobacco-smoking upon the human body Sir Benjamin
Richardson would appear to see no reason for thinking that it can produce
any organic change, though it may induce various functional disturbances
if carried to excess. These are such as all young smokers experience
more or less severely, according to their temperament and the quality or
strength of the tobacco they use. There can be no question that the first
attempt at smoking reveals phenomena which plainly show that to become
one of the initiated in the service of Nicotina a certain ordeal must be
passed through if the novice would rank among her votaries. It may be
of use to remark that the stronger kinds of tobacco are the products of
the Virginian and Kentucky plantations; French tobacco too is quite as
strong, they contain from six to eight per cent. of nicotine; Maryland
and Havanna tobaccos, also those of the Levant, generally average two per
cent., while the products of Sumatra and China barely contain one per
cent. of nicotine. The general conclusion Sir Benjamin Richardson deduces
from his experiments is such as might be fairly expected from an eminent
physician of large experience, unbiassed by prejudice. In this judicial
sense he remarks that tobacco ‘is innocuous as compared with alcohol; it
does infinitely less harm than opium, it is in no sense worse than tea,
and by the side of high living altogether it compares most favourably.’
But on the question of youths smoking he speaks most decisively against
even the smallest indulgence in tobacco before the system is matured.
His words are: ‘With boys the habit is as injurious and wrong as it is
disgusting. The early “piper” loses his growth, becomes hoarse, effete,
lazy, and stunted.’
The late Professor Johnston, of Durham, gave his attention to the
subject, and in the eminently useful work on the _Chemistry of Common
Life_ he minutely describes the results he obtained from a careful
analysis of tobacco leaves. These in all essential particulars are such
as have already been mentioned. Although he points out the highly
poisonous nature of some of the constituents of tobacco, he yet speaks
regretfully of his inability to derive from smoking the soothing
pleasures mentioned by others, particularly by Dr. Pereira, who remarking
on its tranquillizing effects when moderately indulged in, says that ‘it
is because of these effects that it is so much admired and adopted by all
classes of society, and by all nations, civilised and barbarous.’ Mr.
Johnston continues:
Were it possible amid the teasing, paltry cares, as well as
the more poignant griefs of life, to find a mere material
soother and tranquillizer productive of no evil after-effects
and accessible alike to all—to the desolate and the outcast
equally with him who is rich in a happy home and the felicity
of sympathising friends—who so heartless as to wonder or regret
that millions of the world-chaffed should flee to it for
solace? I confess, however, that in tobacco I have never found
this soothing effect. This no doubt is constitutional, for I
cannot presume to ignore the united testimony of the millions
of mankind who assert from their own experience that it does
produce such effects.
He draws attention to the effects of tobacco on the Turks, and speaking
of the drowsy reverie they fall into under its influence, asks if it is
really a peculiarity of the Turkish temperament that makes tobacco act
upon them as it does, sending the body to sleep while the mind is alive
and awake.
That this is not its general action in Europe (he remarks)
the study of almost every German writer can testify. With
the constant pipe diffusing its beloved aroma around him the
German philosopher works out the profoundest of his results
of thought. He thinks and dreams, and dreams and thinks,
alternately; but while his body is soothed and stilled, his
mind is ever awake. From what I have heard such men say, I
could almost fancy they had in practice discovered a way of
liberating the mind from the trammels of the body, and thus
giving it a freer range and more undisturbed liberty of action.
I regret that I have never found it act so upon myself.
These reflections of the sympathetic Professor may be very grateful to
the habitual smoker, who influenced by a natural feeling of attachment,
looks lovingly on his pipe and pouch, as he would on old friends grown
dearer with time; the older and more worn the closer he clings to them,
till by-and-by he talks to them as would primitive man to his fetish. But
this amiable weakness needs to be looked firmly in the face, and if it
cannot bear scrutiny, if the indulgence be found hurtful to body or mind,
it must go; thrown out of the window if need be, with a resolve not to go
out and look for it, to restore it to its old niche, though the old pouch
may contain Mr. J. M. Barrie’s beloved, Arcadia Mixture.
Undoubtedly we have among us, and have had in England since the days when
Raleigh introduced the ‘Indian’s herb’ into the royal palace and made
it agreeable to his queen and fashionable everywhere, some remarkable
examples of great smokers occupying the highest positions in the domain
of intellect. Instances crowd the memory. The tall, dark figure of Thomas
Hobbes of Malmesbury presents itself, he whose _Leviathan_ and other
philosophical works stirred into activity the intellect of Europe, and
who attained the ripe age of ninety-two. Sir Isaac Newton smoked, even
in the presence of the lady who honoured him with well-meant attentions.
Seated one day quietly by his side, happy in anticipation of what
the future might bring forth, Sir Isaac suddenly seized her hand—now
the blissful moment had arrived!—but, instead of tenderly pressing
it within his own, he probed her little finger into the bowl of his
pipe to remove some obstruction. The story told by Sir David Brewster
points a moral—ladies should be chary of lavishing their affection on
philosophers, they are so very absent-minded. Divinity furnishes a host
of devotees to the pipe. Leading the throng are Dr. Henry Aldrich, of
Christ Church, Oxford; Dr. Parr, whose Greek was the admiration of ripe
scholars and the terror of little boys; who overwhelmed his friends
with torrents of eloquence and clouds of tobacco-smoke; Robert Hall,
England’s greatest pulpit orator, and many another divine burned incense
continually at the shrine of Nicotiana; while towering in the forefront
of the great tobacco-smokers of the Victorian age are the figures of
Carlyle and Tennyson. But these illustrious examples of great tobacco
smokers are, in respect to the whole community, altogether exceptional,
and may be regarded as having no more bearing on any general rule
applicable to all men than had their individual capacity for imbibing,
say, ‘sweet waters.’ It may be observed, however, that those who pass
severe censure on the smoking habit seem to overlook the fact that men do
not eat or drink tobacco; that the prudent smoker is quite contented if
its ambient fumes gently float about him, regaling his olfactory sense.
It can never satisfy reasonable inquiry to be told that deadly results
follow the administration, not of the smoke, but of a single drop of the
essential oil of tobacco to a dog, that dies of old age at fifteen years;
or to a rabbit, that breeds seven times a year and dies at the age of
five. Far above theorising there is the teaching of experience, and if
each would-be smoker will in this, as in other things, be guided by this
unfailing monitor, and act upon the dictates of common sense, no harm
will come to him.
There are people of so gloomy a temperament that they would not let a man
cultivate a flower-garden or listen to the songs of birds on the Sabbath;
who look upon music as a sensuous indulgence, and reading as idleness.
To these we have nothing to say; it is their misfortune to think and
feel so. Stripping the argument of the puerilities and exaggerations of
prejudice, let us recognise the broad fact that men of every nation and
in every climate do smoke; a fact that is universal needs no apology.
The prophylactic properties of tobacco will be considered from an
historical point of view in the next chapter, headed, ‘The Use and Abuse
of Tobacco.’
This chapter first appeared in _The Nineteenth Century_ for May
1897. Mr. W. T. Stead, commenting upon it in his _Review of
Reviews_, agreed with the writer’s firm stand against juvenile
smoking, and expressed the opinion that ere long an act of
Parliament would be entered in the Statute Book prohibiting
the sale of tobacco to youths under the age of 16. Unavailing
efforts to this end were subsequently made by private members
of the House of Commons. At last the Legislature has taken up
the subject, and under the tactful conduct of the measure of
Mr. Herbert Samuel, the Under-Secretary for the Home Office, a
Bill has passed the third reading making the sale of cigarettes
to children illegal. This step in the right direction will have
the effect of awakening public attention to the subject, and of
stirring up parents to a more watchful supervision over their
children’s habits.