CHAPTER IV
TOBACCO IN RELATION TO HEALTH AND CHARACTER

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—

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

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:

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

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

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

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

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

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:

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.

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.’