THE USE AND ABUSE OF TOBACCO
Ye hot, ye cold, ye Rheumatick draw nigh;
In this rich leafe a sovereign dose doth lie.
We’ll cure ye all; Physick ye need not want,
Here, ’tis i’ th’ gummy inside of a plant.
—1670.
Though differences of temperament may not allow everyone the mild
indulgence of the pipe, all are interested in learning that in the
leaves of the Indian’s weed dwells a friendly genius ready to protect
us from the virulent attacks of the myriad host of invisible life which
floats around us, in some cases infecting the air we breathe, the
food we eat, and the water we drink. This assurance comes to us from
the bacteriologist, whose experiments conducted under the microscope,
demonstrate that contact with the smoke of tobacco destroys the vitality
of microbes. Especially comforting is it to know this at the season of
the year when the air lies heavily upon the land.
Here, then, we come upon ground interesting alike to the smoker and the
non-smoker, for both will agree that it is infinitely better to let the
weed spread its wings on the blast and breathe in the face of the foe
than to go unprotected through unwholesome air laden, it may be, with
noxious germs.
It is also gratifying to learn that our forefathers, in whose wisdom all
right-minded people, of course, fondly believe, were not wholly wrong
in their estimate of the manifold virtues of their beloved herb. With
the largeness of faith which belongs equally to the infancy of research
and the springtime of life, they believed with the implicit faith of
childhood in its all-healing powers. And the learned in the secrets of
Nature proclaimed to suffering humanity that out of the heart of the
New World had come a remedy for all the ills that flesh is heir to. But
if facts grew too strong for faith to grapple with, and overthrew their
Dagon, this one consolation remains to testify to their just appreciation
of the weed, namely, that it can, and does, destroy contagious germs.
Early in the seventeenth century, physicians at home and abroad had
observed a connection between the use of tobacco and freedom from the
dread pestilence which at times swept over the land. Doctors Gardiner and
Lewis, Thorius and Diemerbroeck, Hoffman and Willis have left records
of their experience of cases where tobacco proved to be efficacious,
administered either in fume or liquor, lotions or unguents. No doubt
their treatment was somewhat crude, and their concoctions (marvels of
simplicity) were not always successful, and, needless to say, that modern
therapeutics takes no account of their remedies. But their discovery
that tobacco was destructive of insect life on animals as well as on
vegetables, that it cleansed old wounds and sores and suffered them
to heal ‘comfortably,’ surely redeems them from a multitude of sins
committed in the name of tobacco.
Glancing back to the early records of its advent in Europe we come
upon Liebault in 1570 discoursing pleasantly on the marvellous virtues
of the herb, and learn of him that it owes its introduction into the
fashionable world to Jean Nicot. He says, ‘Although it be not long since
it hath been known in France, notwithstanding, deserveth palm and price,
and among all other medicinable herbs it deserveth to stand in the front
rank, by reason of its singular virtues, and, as it were, almost to be
held in admiration, as hereafter you shall understand.… The herb is
called Nicotiane, of the name of him that gave the first intelligence
thereof into this realm—as many other plants have taken their name from
certain Greeks and Romans, who, having been in strange countries for
service of their commonweals, have brought into their countries many
plants which were before unknown. Some have called it the Queen’s herb,
because it was first sent to her, as hereafter shall be declared by the
gentleman that was the first inventor of it, and since has by her been
given to divers people for to sow, whereby it might be planted in the
land. Others have named it the Grand Prior’s herb, for that he caused it
to multiply in France, more than any other, and for the great reverence
that he bears to his herb, because of the divine effects therein
contained. Notwithstanding, it is better to name it Nicotiane, the name
of him that sent it into France, first, to the end that he may have the
honour thereof, according to his desert, for that he hath enriched our
country with so singular an herb.’
Jean Nicot, Lord of Villemain, and Master of the Requests of the French
King’s household, was sent as ambassador to the Portuguese Court in
1559, remaining there until 1561. On the occasion of his visiting the
state prisons of Lisbon, the keeper, being a gentleman, as Liebault
states, presented him with specimens of a strange herb, which had just
arrived in Port from Florida, shipped by a Flemish merchant. Nicot’s
curiosity was aroused and he took an early opportunity of purchasing
from the merchant a quantity of the prepared leaves, and some seeds of
the plant. Learning from him what use the Indians made of the weed, and
their manner of smoking it, he began to experiment, first upon himself
(as all good practitioners should do) and liking it, he caused some of
the seeds to be sown in his garden, where to his great joy they grew
and multiplied exceedingly. There can hardly be a doubt that Nicot had
been told by the merchant that the Indians expressed a juice from the
leaves with which they cured the wounds received in battle, and that he
had made this known to his domestics. For Liebault says that the Lord
Ambassador was one day advertised of a young man of kin to his page who
had made assay of the herb, bruised and in liquor, upon an ulcer he had
upon his cheek near unto the nose, coming of a _Noli me tangere_, which
began to take root already at the gristle of the nose, wherewith he found
himself marvellously eased. Whereupon Nicot caused the said young man
to be brought before him, and after a minute inspection he ordered the
sufferer to continue the treatment eight or ten days longer. Nicot now
hurried off to the King of Portugal’s physician and informed him of the
case, and together they watched the progress of the cure. By the end of
ten days the physician was enabled to certify that the _Noli me tangere_
was ‘utterly extinguished’ and the face ‘comfortably healed.’ Shortly
afterwards Nicot’s cook almost cut off his thumb with a great chopping
knife, and he too, flew to the new remedy for relief, and after five or
six dressings was likewise comfortably healed. A captain presented his
son to the Lord Ambassador and besought him to exert his healing art upon
the boy, who was grievously afflicted with the King’s evil. And unto
him was assay made of the liquor of the herb, and again its curative
powers were asserted in the complete removal of the disease. Next came
a gentleman from the fields, craving the Lord Ambassador to cure him
of a wound in his leg, which for a space of two years had tortured him
and rendered the limb useless. Nicot, filled with generous enthusiasm,
readily acceded to his appeal, and lotions and unguents were prepared
for him, with instructions how to apply them. In ten days’ time he again
presented himself, and with overflowing gratitude declared that the ulcer
had disappeared, and that he had now perfect use of his leg. Many other
similar _Noli me tangere_ cases and their comfortable cure are recorded
by Liebault and Monardes. News of the potent influence of the weed, now
commonly called the Ambassador’s herb, over bodily infirmity spread with
amazing rapidity, and out of every nook and corner of the kingdom there
flocked to the Ambassador sufferers of all sorts and conditions, praying
to be healed of their _Noli me tangere_. Nicot’s garden was now a centre
of attraction for fashionable loungers: his house had already become an
infirmary; and great was the rejoicing when the maimed, the sick, and the
wounded threw away their crutches, sound of body and full of faith. From
the recital whereof it plainly appears that though names may change, poor
humanity remains pretty much what it was in the beginning, and none wax
so fat in fame or fortune as those who minister to its weaknesses.
But Nicot’s work as a healer of the sick with the Indian weed was not
yet completed; there were patients at home demanding his immediate
attention. Hearing that Lady Montague was dying at St. Germains of an
ulcer ‘bred in the breast,’ which of course was none other than our old
friend _Noli me tangere_ in the form of cancer, and for which no remedy
could ever be found, though the Countess of Russe had consulted on her
friend’s behalf the most eminent physicians of the realm, Nicot, with
commendable promptitude, despatched to the king a quantity of the weed,
sending therewith precise instructions how to prepare and administer
it. With this first instalment he wrote describing it as having a
peculiarly pleasant taste, and oddly enough, he bestowed upon it his own
name, saying, ‘Nicotiane est une espèce d’herbe de vertu admirable pour
guérir toutes ulcères et autres tels accidents au corps humain.’ This
letter is said to be still preserved in the Chateau Belem. To the Queen
Mother he presented seeds of the plant which she caused to be sown in
the royal gardens. This wondrous product of the new-found world, where
all was strange and clothed in the garb of mystery, created a lively
interest in France. But Europe had hardly yet emerged from the glamour
of the Dark Ages, when every important event was governed by invisible
agencies, and magic alone could explain the inexplicable. Catharine de
Medici would secretly consult her magician before entering upon any of
her numerous dark designs. Parenthetically it may be mentioned that
George Buchanan, the Scotch philosopher and tutor to our James I., had
so strong an aversion to Catharine de Medici that in one of his Latin
epigrams, where he alludes to tobacco being called _d’herbe Medici_, he
warns all who value their health to shun the herb, not that in itself
it is hurtful, but being called by so vile a name it must needs become
poisonous. A single instance may suffice to indicate the kind of interest
the weed on its first introduction into France awakened in the French
court. Gathered round the queen’s table are some of the brightest wits
of the gay capital, discussing with eager curiosity the marvellous story
told of the Indian’s herb in the despatch just received from Nicot.
Listening to these things the Comte de Jarnac felt irresistibly impelled
to do something significant of the occasion, and springing from his seat
he hastened to the house of his dearest friend to repeat the story. His
friend was ‘short-breathed,’ suffering indeed from a severe attack of
asthma. Unfolding the packet containing his share of the precious herb,
Jarnac directed an attendant to distil it; this done, he added to the
liquor some euphrasy (eyebright). Then presenting the decoction to the
patient, he explained to him with the eloquence born of a new faith that
the spirit of the herb would enter into his own and would assuredly expel
the demon of asthma. Thus urged and entreated, the sufferer swallowed
the potation, and wonderful to relate, if we are to believe the zealous
chronicler, the man who but a little while before was gasping for breath
was now comfortably healed!
Clearly then tobacco owes its introduction into the highest ranks of
European society to its credentials as a healer of the sick. Immediately
after France had received her first instalment, along with Nicot’s
laudatory account of its marvellous virtues, Italy obtained the herb
direct from the hands of Cardinal Santa Croce on his return from his
nunciature in Spain, and for years it bore in his honour the name of Erba
Santa Croce. Castro Duranti celebrated the event in Latin verses, wherein
he ascribes to the Indian’s herb the efficacy of a charm over every
malady, and extols the cardinal for his service in bringing it, coupling
his name with his distinguished ancestor, who brought to Rome a portion
of the true cross. He assures the reader that their services rightly
considered
Procure, as much as mortal man can do,
The welfare of our souls and bodies too.
Tidings of the pleasing delusion of tobacco’s wonderful curative
properties reached these shores towards the close of the sixteenth
century, when the pipe was already installed in almost every
chimney-nook. Needless to say that lovers of the weed received the
intelligence with warmth, and held to the new belief with a steadfastness
nothing could shake. Some of England’s foremost poets and dramatists
signalized their high appreciation of the exotic’s rare attributes
in imperishable literature. Edmund Spenser, for example, was a great
smoker, and as we have already seen, when he and Raleigh met in Ireland
they would sit together by the hour over a soothing pipe, while holding
delightful contests of responsive versifying. In the _Faërie Queene_ is
a sweet passage telling how Belphœbe hastened into the woods to gather
herbs to heal the wounded Timais:
For she of herbs had great intendiment,
Taught of the Nymph which from her infancy
Her nursed had in true nobility:
There, whether it divine Tobacco were,
Or Panachea, or Polygony,
She found and brought it to her patient dear,
Who all this while lay bleeding out his heart-blood near.
In a similar vein William Lyly, Queen Elizabeth’s court-poet, speaks of
the weed in his play entitled _The Woman in the Moone_. Pandora, having
wounded a lover with a spear, urges her attendant to gather
… Balm and cooling violets,
And of our holy herb nicotian,
And bring withal pure honey from the hive,
To heal the wound of my unhappy hand.
Ben Jonson, Thomas Dekker, and a host of other playwrights and
pamphleteers found in the new indulgence a source of endless amusement,
and belaboured ‘Tobacconists’ with rare sallies of wit and humour.
Authors learned in the materia medica of those days tell of wonderful
cures wrought by this _Sana Sancta Indorum_. In a booklet bearing the
rather droll title of _Dyet’s Dry Dinner_ (1599) Henry Buttes informs the
reader that ‘Tobacco cureth any grief, dolour, imposture, or obstruction
proceeding of cold or wind, especially in the head or breast. The fume
taken in a pipe is good against rumes, hoarseness, ache in the head,
stomach, lungs, breast, etc., also in want of meat, drink, sleep, or
rest.’ The dyspeptic and the sleepless are invited to banquet upon a dry
dinner, and they will assuredly find in the pipe a never-failing remedy
for their several ailments. The uplifted author feels himself impelled to
give expression to his high appreciation of the new regimen in verse, and
exclaims,
Fruit, herbs, flesh, fish, whitemeats, spice, sauce, all,
Concoct are by Tobacco’s Cordiall!
Proceeding with his description of a dry dinner and elaborating many
mysterious complications of the human system and their complete removal
by the use of tobacco, he says that he ‘names his book, _Dyet’s Dry
Dinner_, not only _Caminum Prandium_, without wine, but _Accipritinum_,
without all drink, except tobacco, which also is but dry drink.’ And as
to the first introduction of tobacco into this kingdom, he informs us
that it was ‘translated out of the Indies in the seed or root, native or
sative in our own fruit-fullest soil. The Indian name for the plant is
Peicelt, surnamed tobacco, by the Spaniards of the Ile Tabago. Yet we
are not beholden to their tradition. Our English Ulisses, renowned Syr
Walter Rawleigh, a man admirably excellent in navigation and Nature’s
privy counsell, and infinitely read in the wide boke of the worlde, hath
both farre fetcht it and deare bought it, the estimate of which I leave
to other; yet this all know, since it came into request, there hath been
_Magnus Fumi Questus_; and _Fumi-Vendulus_ is the best Epithite for an
Apothecary.’
How enraptured medical men were with the new herb, believing that at
last they had discovered the panacea of their happiest dreams, may be
learned from Dr. Gardiner’s _Trial of Tobacco_. On the title page of this
rare quarto volume, published in London in 1610, the author describes in
prolix detail the contents of his book, thus:—‘Wherein his (tobacco’s)
worth is most worthily expressed: as in the name, nature, and qualitie
of the same hearb—his speciall use in physick, with the right and
true use of taking it, as well for the seasons and times, as also the
complexions, dispositions, and constitutions of such bodies and persons
as are fittest, and to whom it is most profitable to take it.’ He asks:
‘What is a more noble medicine, or readier at hand, than tobacco?’ And he
informs the reader that although he is an old man he undertakes the task
of compiling the book in order to supply a proper knowledge of the plant
so much in use among Englishmen. For the cure of the asthmatical, and
such persons as are of a consumptive tendency, he prescribed liberally of
_Foliorum Sana Sancta Indorum_ combined with other medicaments unknown
to modern therapeutics, and which may be readily accredited with very
effectual properties—effectual, one would think, in dispelling the
extravagant belief of the learned leeches of those days in tobacco as a
‘soverane remedy.’ How people managed to take such concoctions as Dr.
Gardiner prescribed and live is beyond conception: their Spartan-like
endurance shines out conspicuously under a treatment which embraces
‘tobacco gruel,’ ‘tobacco wine,’ also, tobacco made up into a kind of
soup, or syrup, with sufficient sugar. The patient is recommended to
drink the decoction hot, as a medicine good against the plague.
A glimpse of the strange notions which entered the heads of our
forefathers respecting the medicinal virtues of the Indian weed may
be gained from a perusal of the curious collection of odds and ends
of social and literary gossip, contained in the Harleian Miscellany.
Under the head of _Tobacco_ the writer says he once knew some persons
who every day ate several ounces of the herb without experiencing any
sensible effect; and from this he infers that, ‘Use and custom will
tame and naturalize the most fierce and rugged poison, so that it will
become civil and friendly to the body.’ In the hands of the chemist it
is perfectly true that some of the most virulent poisons can be made
subservient to the healing art, and yield to the physician some of the
most helpful medicines known to pharmacy; but it would be unwise to
the last degree for the uninitiated in the mysteries of the laboratory
to experiment upon himself in the vain belief that use and custom will
carry him safely through the ordeal. The writer goes on to say that,
‘Some anatomists tell us most terrible stories of sooty brains and black
lungs, which have been seen in the dissection of dead bodies, which when
living had been accustomed to tobacco. I know a curious woman in the
North, that does very great feats in healing the sick by a preparation
of tobacco. And our learned and most experienced countryman, Mr. Boyle
(experimental philosophy) does highly recommend tobacco for pains, which
are often epidemical in cities and camps.’ He appears, however, to have
a wholesome dread of such experimenting, for he consoles himself now and
then by remarking that ‘custom and conversation will make the fiercest
creature familiar.’ Yet he seems quite unable to break away from the
common belief, that, ‘the qualities, nature, and uses of tobacco may
be very considerable in several cases and circumstances, although King
James himself hath both writ and disputed very smartly against it.’ The
reader is next informed that a French author in the Journal of Science
(1681) has ‘writ a peculiar tract on tobacco, wherein he commends it for
bringing on sleep;’ an idea probably derived from Dr. Thorius’ _Hymnus
Tabaci_ (1625) which passed through many editions in London, Paris, and
Utrecht. In this elegant Latin poem Thorius playfully alludes to the
drowsiness tobacco-smoking produced upon the gods:—
… The gods Bacchus, Liber,
Jove, Mars, Vulcan, Mercury, Apollo,
Lustily through their nose the smoke did take,
As if another Ætna they would make.
The goddesses, pleas’d with the novelty,
Laugh’d all the while, but when they did see
How much to sleep that night the gods were given,
Angry, decreed it should be banish’d Heav’n.
The purifying action of tobacco-smoke on unwholesome air was fully
recognised in Pepys’ time, when during the Great Plague of 1665-6 the
pipe was to be seen in almost every mouth. Pepys like others sought
protection in the weed, and purchased roll-tobacco to ‘chaw.’ Alas, poor
man, it took away his apprehension! In his immortal diary is a note under
date, June 7th. 1665:
This is the hottest day that I ever felt in my life. This day,
much against my will, I did in Drury Lane, see two or three
houses marked with a red cross upon the doors, and, ‘Lord, have
mercy upon us,’ writ there, which was a sad sight to me, being
the first of the kind that to my remembrance I ever saw. It put
me in an ill-conception of myself and my smell, so that I was
forced to buy some roll-tobacco to smell and chaw, which took
away my apprehension.
Clearly Pepys was not a ‘tobacconist,’ but surely he should have known
better than to have ‘chawed’ the black twist.
Dr. Willis, physician in ordinary to Charles the Second, speaks highly
of the valuable antiseptic properties of tobacco. In his work entitled,
_A Plain and Easy Method of Preserving (by God’s Blessing) Those That
are Well From the Infection of the Plague_ (1666) he remarks upon the
exemption from the pestilence of houses where tobacco was stored for
manufacture or sale.
Nor indeed were those persons affected who smoked tobacco,
especially if they smoked in the morning, a time when the body
is more susceptible to outer influences than it is later in
the day. For the smoke of the plant secures those parts which
lie most open, namely, the mouth, nostrils, etc., and at once
intercepts and keeps the contagion that floats in the air from
the brain, lungs, and stomach. It also stirs the blood and
spirits all over, and makes them throw off any contagion that
may adhere to them.
In another treatise on the subject Dr. Willis makes equally shrewd
remarks on the use of tobacco among soldiers and sailors. He says,
‘Tobacco taken in the vulgar way at the mouth through a pipe has effects
not only manifold but diverse,’ and he explains that its use, when it
may be had, seems not only necessary but profitable for soldiers and
mariners, for that it renders them both fearless of any danger, and
patient of hunger, cold, and labour.’ Army experiences of recent years
bear testimony to the beneficial use of tobacco in almost the same words.
The learned Dutch Physician, Dr. Diemerbroeck, of Utrecht, in his
_Tractatus de Peste_ (1635-6) lays stress on the good which he found
to come of smoking tobacco. So fully was he persuaded of its powers to
kill contagion that for his own sake he smoked almost continuously while
attending upon his patients in the hospitals at Nimeguen during the
prevalence of the great plague in Holland. He began the day with a pipe;
after dinner he would take two or three more, and a like number after
supper; and if at any time he felt himself affected by his surroundings
he immediately had recourse to the weed, which he regarded as his
comforter in affliction and preserver from the plague. Dr. Diemerbroeck
would seem to have been a model officer of health. Armed with his
chosen instrument he gallantly charged the enemy at all hours and in
all places, striding along the aisles of death unscathed. His services
were invaluable, and ought surely to have been utilised over a larger
area than they were. As Smoking Sanitary Commissioner he might have
visited, say, Cologne, where much to the advantage of the inhabitants,
more particularly to visitors, he doubtless would have founded a
_Tabako-Collegium_. Coleridge would then most likely have been spared his
discomfiture and precipitate rout on his encountering there ‘seventy-two
separate and well-defined stinks.’ The Farina Brothers doubtless loved
their quaint city whose quainter smells have passed into a proverb, and
were animated with sublime ideas of patriotism when they concocted their
sweet-smelling waters which were to bring back to it wealth and renown.
Their success has equalled their genius: all the world is grateful for
Eau de Cologne.
We now approach the threshold of new and more enlightened views of the
uses of tobacco. From the first inception of the idea of its possessing
curative properties it passed through two distinct phases in the medical
world. First it was received as a heaven-sent boon to suffering humanity,
and was applied with a lavish hand for the cure of every malady. Then
followed bitter experiences of pain and even death inflicted in cases
where it had been fondly hoped relief would be obtained. We see medical
practice struggling in a dim uncertain light towards fuller knowledge,
yet baffled at every step. Reluctantly the doctor is driven to forsake
his new love, and again we see him turning to the plants of his native
soil for the realisation of the great dream of his life,—a panacea,
which to him meant all that the philosopher’s stone could signify to
the alchemist; and once more we hear of Solar Elixirs, and of occult
medicaments prepared from herbs gathered in the glimpses of the moon;
for it was argued that the ruling heavenly bodies from whose energy
divine had sprung all life, must assuredly have provided remedies for
the evils with which life is burdened. The reaction which followed upon
the disappointment was so strong that tobacco became the shibboleth of
the profession, whose leading spirits denounced as charlatans all who
ventured to remain faithful to the creed of the tobacconist. This second
stage reached its culmination half a century ago, when Mr. Lizars,
and Mr. Solly, of St Thomas’s Hospital, inaugurated a crusade against
tobacco, holding forth on the physical and mental misery, leading to
insanity, which must inevitably follow its use in any form. One instance
among many may suffice to indicate Mr. Solly’s method of terrifying
smokers. He speaks of a young clergyman of his acquaintance who could
only write his sermons under the stimulus of a pipe; he admits that
his discourses were eloquent, even brilliant, and profitable to listen
to. Then Mr. Solly, pointing an admonitory finger, utters the solemn
warning—‘but the end of that man is not yet!’
Fortunately there is no longer need to consider whether the weed deserves
the hard things said of it, or whether it is to be ranked among the
chief blessings a beneficent Providence has conferred upon this nether
world. These things are settling themselves in their proper places under
the critical eyes of modern science, and the larger and more rational
views derived from experiences in the field, the camp, and the hospital.
Conspicuous among medical treatises of recent years, wherein the subject
is dispassionately surveyed, may be mentioned that of Dr. John C. Murray,
of Newcastle-on-Tyne. Remarking upon the observed curative effect of
tobacco-smoking on the sick and wounded in the Franco-German war, he
says that its healing virtues were so obvious to an army surgeon of his
acquaintance that from being strongly opposed to the use of tobacco
he became a convert, in so far that he actually purchased cigars and
presented them to the wounded, in consequence of having observed that
their smoking assisted recovery. ‘This experience,’ adds Dr. Murray, ‘is
contrary to what has been enunciated as theory, or deduced from isolated
examples taken from the hospitals. Practical observation from previously
healthy men must, however, be allowed precedence of speculation when
inferred from disease.’ This admission marks a decided advance towards
harmonising the faults of speculative reasoning with the actual
experience of every-day life.
Taking a general survey of army medical officers’ reports of work done in
the hospital-camps, he finds evidence in abundance supporting the view
that tobacco-smoking does in some indefinable way mitigate suffering and
help to a speedy recovery. Not only were the good effects manifest in
the comfort it afforded the men on the march, but chiefly in the camp and
the hospital, where under its soothing influence the wounded were often
snatched from death and the sick restored to health. An amusing incident
of a wounded soldier’s love for his pipe is noted in a lady’s diary kept
while occupied as a nurse in a British hospital. Private McCarthy while
under chloroform had just had one of his toes amputated by the surgeon.
The wound bled freely, and the surgeon, after binding it up, left strict
injunctions that the man was not to put his foot down. It happened that
the nurse was called away to another patient for a few minutes, but
before leaving she reminded the patient of the doctor’s orders about
remaining still. On her return, to her astonishment the man was nowhere
to be seen. After some searching she discovered him by traces of blood on
the floor, quietly seated in the yard smoking his pipe. To her admonition
about disobeying orders, and concern for the injury he was likely to do
himself, he paid no heed, and continued smoking in happy indifference.
Better success attended her endeavour to bring him to a repentant frame
of mind when she told him of how he had disfigured the floor with his
blood. Then he rose and quietly returned to his bed, saying, ‘Indeed,
ma’am, I could not help going to have a pipe, for sure, that was the
nastiest stuff I ever got drunk on,’—alluding to the taste of the
chloroform.
Besides being a social comfort to the soldier on the march and in camp,
the wholesomeness of the weed has long been recognised in the Army. Lord
Wolseley on the occasion of his rapid dash to Coomassie gave proof of
his belief in its prophylactic properties when on landing at Cape Coast
Castle he caused pipes and tobacco to be dealt out to the men. George
Gilham, of the 2nd Battalion, Rifle Brigade, writing from the ranks
tells of his experiences on the march, and says, ‘The climate about Cape
Coast Castle is bad, and the stenches we came upon almost knocked us
over. But the General had pipes and tobacco served out to us with orders
to smoke for protection. I was then no smoker, but I soon managed to
learn the art.’ And Corporal J. C. Ives, of the Buffs, bears pathetic
testimony to the soldiers’ love of a pipe of tobacco during some hard
service, fighting the Zulus. After describing a fierce encounter with
the enemy he concludes with this lament: ‘The worst of all was we had no
tobacco, the last having been already issued. We did not know we had so
little in our possession when we sold some to the Kaffirs in charge of
the track oxen. When we found all was gone we would have given double the
value of it, but it was too late, and we were induced to try experiments
with dry tea-leaves, grass, and coffee grounds. Some of the men found a
herb which they smoked, but this had the effect of making their heads
swell to such an extent that they had to be attended by the doctor.’
On another occasion when the 91st Highlanders came within sight, and
greeting cheers had resounded on the still night air, he says, ‘When our
friends arrived the first question from the Ekowe garrison was, “Have
you any tobacco?” Oh, that smoke! The same night we were served out with
a tot of rum, white biscuits and a small piece of tobacco, luxuries
subscribed for by the inhabitants of Port Natal.’
With innumerable experiences such as these before them it is difficult to
understand the action of the Home authorities in dealing with contraband
tobacco seized by Custom-house officers. Some years ago a ton of tobacco
and cigars was seized at Portsmouth, the whole of which was buried in
order to get rid of it. A protest was made, and the reasonableness of
distributing, instead of wasting, such seizures of tobacco among the
men of the Army and Navy could not be gainsaid; and it was satisfactory
to learn that the Revenue Department had been moved to issue directions
to the proper officers to, in future, supply troop-ships with seized
tobacco at the rate of one ounce per diem for each man. But this humane
practice was soon discontinued; indeed, the arrangements for the disposal
of seized tobacco present some curious features, and have varied
considerably from time to time. The course pursued with such seizures,
including that unreleased by consignees from the bonded warehouses at
the London Docks, had been the very primitive one of burning it in an
instrument known and recognised as the ‘Queen’s tobacco-pipe.’ Possibly
some outdoor officer of Customs hit upon the device in order to shield
himself from blame for thus wasting good stuff. It was a huge instrument
of enormous ventrical capacity and would fume away hundreds of tons in
a few hours. Then an afterthought of economy crept in, and suggested
that the ashes might make good manure. They were accordingly sold to
agriculturists for what they would fetch; a ton of the ashes it was found
served as tillage for four acres of ground. But this monster pipe is now
put out; it was arranged that future seizures of contraband tobacco,
and also such as remained in Bond unclaimed on account of its having
sustained damage in transit from the place of exportation, should be
thrown upon the market for sale, a course which did not commend itself to
the trade, nor to the palate of dainty smokers. In face of the difficulty
another arrangement was made for its disposal; the criminal lunatics
confined in certain Government asylums were thought of, and gratuitously
provided with tobacco from this source. Large quantities were also
supplied to certain public botanical gardens where tobacco is required
for the destruction of insect life, and which would otherwise have to
be purchased at the public expense. If after meeting these demands a
sufficient quantity of tobacco was available, then troops ordered on
foreign service were furnished with a supply for use on the voyage.
Strange to say, even this small chance of obtaining a little comfort for
the men who are to fight our battles in foreign lands under hardships
which tax the strongest powers of endurance has ceased. Troop-ships at
the best of times are none too comfortable, and anything that can be done
towards making those on board contented would be a distinct gain to the
Service. Both policy and humanity indicate a little generous treatment
of the men upon whose prowess the existence of the Empire so largely
depends. It is hard to believe that criminal lunatics can have a better
claim to the indulgence than our soldiers.
Referring to the antiseptic properties of tobacco, Dr. Murray says that
he is fully convinced from close observation, that though it does not
produce ozone it is an excellent disinfectant; and he mentions instances
of ladies who, while attending upon their relatives laid up with a
fearful epidemic malady, recognised, as if by intuition, the advantage
of smoking. On one occasion a lady came into the sick-room where he was
seeing a confluent case of epidemic small-pox puffing a cigar, and upon
his remarking it she pointed to the patient with a triumphant air more
eloquent than words. Whereupon Dr. Murray with a touch of old-fashioned
chivalry says, ‘I immediately bent to her as a Master.’ In the same gay
vein he continues: ‘I have myself seen, and also been informed, that
many ladies during the current epidemic have given pronounced evidence
of their faith in the antiseptic virtues of tobacco by selecting the
smoking compartments when travelling by rail, and not a few have even
in severe cases while waiting upon their relatives trusted to tobacco
as a safeguard. I am happy to add that so far they have rejoiced in an
immunity from the most contagious disease with which the present age is
acquainted.’
Drs. Klein, Tassinari, Werke and other distinguished bacteriologists have
carried their investigations into this interesting field of research with
marked success.
Dr. Klein, of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, says that ‘direct experiment
proves that tobacco-smoke has a decided germicidal effect; it is not
known, however, which is the active principle in the tobacco-smoke.’ He
also remarks that the popular idea which has again sprung up of tobacco’s
prophylactic powers, ‘is well supported by laboratory experiment.’ Dr.
Tassinari, adopting the microscopical methods of Pasteur, illustrates
his investigations into the subject and the results obtained by a series
of charts. These results may be briefly summarised. He found that the
smoke of tobacco in some cases entirely destroyed, in others retarded
the development of, micro-organisms. For example, the bacilli of Asiatic
cholera and pneumonia were in every instance destroyed by the smoke of
tobacco irrespective of the kind or quality of the tobacco used. Anthrax
bacilli and the bacilli of typhoid offered greater resistance, the latter
indeed were but little affected by the smoke. He makes an odd remark
about the surprising growths of germs found by the microscope adhering to
the coating of the teeth, and says that as tobacco-smoke destroys them,
it is a preventive of decay; should it darken the enamel, the ashes of
the weed used as a dentifrice will make them whiter than before.
Similar investigations have been made in Spain and Germany. Werke
saturated a cigar with a liquid fully impregnated with cholera bacilli
and found that in twenty-four hours every germ was destroyed. He next
placed bacilli upon dry tobacco leaves; in this case they were rendered
harmless in half an hour. In other trials a contact with the leaf of
three hours was required for their destruction. Strange to say, damp
tobacco was the least effective; the germs struggled hard for existence,
and held out for three days before yielding up their lives to the
superior genius of the weed. A fifty per cent. solution of tobacco
over-mastered them in twenty-four hours. But it is in burning tobacco,
when its elements are liberated from their confinement, that the battle
is most decisive. Werke says, that when he tested them with the smoke of
tobacco every germ was rendered incapable of propagating disease in less
than five minutes.
Though the medical man whom duty calls to densely-crowded, unwholesome
districts fortifies himself against attack from the invisible foe with a
Manila or Cuban leaf, he protests emphatically against the smoking habit
which has recently cropped up among boys. The boy-smoker, besides being
a nuisance, is rendering himself physically and mentally unfit for the
duties of life.