"If Shakespeare's contemporaries were silent about the then new fashion of smoking, we should not so much wonder at Shakespeare's taciturnity. But Decker's and Ben Jonson's works abound in allusions to tobacco, its uses and abuses. The humorist and satirist lost no opportunity of deriding the new fashion and its followers. The tobacco merchant was an important person in London of James the First's time—with his Winchester pipes, his maple cutting-blocks, his juniper-wood charcoal fires, and his silver tongs with which to hand the hot charcoal to his customers, although he was shrewdly suspected of adulterating the precious weed with sack lees and oil. It was his custom to wash the tobacco in muscadel and grains, and to keep it moist by wrapping it in greased leather, and oiled rags, or by burying it in gravel. The Elizabethan pipes were so small that now when they are dug up in Ireland the poor call them 'fairy pipes' from their tininess. These pipes became known by the nickname of 'the woodcock's heads.' The apothecaries, who sold the best tobacco, became masters of the art, and received pupils, whom they taught to exhale the smoke in little globes, rings, or the 'Euripus.' 'The slights' these tricks were called. Ben Jonson facetiously makes these professors boast of being able to take three whiffs, then to take horse, and evolve the smoke—one whiff on Hounslow, a second at Staines, and a third at Bagshot.
"The ordinary gallant, like Mercutio, would smoke while the dinner was serving up. Those who were rich and foolish carried with them smoking apparatus of gold or silver—tobacco-box, snuff-ladle, tongs to take up charcoal, and priming irons. There seems, from Decker's "Gull's Horn-Book," to have been smoking clubs, or tobacco ordinaries as they were called, where the entire talk was of the best shops for buying Trinidado, the Nicotine, the Cane, and the Pudding, whose pipe had the best bore, which would turn blackest, and which would break in the browning. At the theatres, the rakes and spendthrifts who, crowded the stage of Shakespeare's time sat on low stools smoking; they sat with their three sorts of tobacco beside them, and handed each other lights on the points of their swords, sending out their pages for more Trinidado if they required it. Many gallants 'took' their tobacco in the lords room over the stage, and went out to (Saint) Paul's to spit there privately. Shabby sponges and lying adventurers, like Bobadil, bragged of the number of packets of 'the most divine tobacco' they had smoked in a week, and told enormous lies of living for weeks in the Indies on the fumes alone. They affirmed it was an antidote to all poison; that it expelled rheums, sour humours, and obstructions of all kinds. Some doctors were of opinion that it would heal gout[43] and the ague, neutralise the effects of drunkenness, and remove weariness and hunger. The poor on the other hand, not disinclined to be envious and detracting when judging rich men's actions, laughed at men who made chimneys of their throats, or who sealed up their noses with snuff.
"Ben Jonson makes that dry, shrewd, water carrier of his, Cob, rail at the 'roguish tobacco:' he would leave the stocks for worse men, and make it present whipping for either man or woman who dealt with a tobacco-pipe. But King James, in his inane 'Counterblast,' is more violent than even Cob. He argues that to use this unsavory smoke is to be guilty of a worse sin than that of drunkenness, and asks how men, who cannot go a day's journey without sending for hot coals to kindle their tobacco, can be expected to endure the privations of war. Smoking, the angry and fuming king protests, had made our manners as rude as those of the fish-wives of Dieppe. Smokers, tossing pipes and puffing smoke over the dinner-table, forgot all cleanliness and modesty. Men now, he says, cannot welcome a friend but straight they must be in hand with tobacco. He that refused a pipe in company was accounted peevish and unsociable. 'Yea,' says the royal coxcomb and pedant, 'the mistress cannot in a more mannerly kind entertain her servant than by giving him out of her fair hand a pipe of tobacco.' The royal reformer (not the most virtuous or cleanly of men) closes his denunciation with this tremendous broadside of invective:
'Have you not reason, then' he says, 'to be shamed and to forbear this filthy novelty, so basely grounded, so foolishly received, and so grossly mistaken in the right use thereof? To your abuse thereof sinning against God, harming yourself both in persons and goods, and taking also thereby the notes and marks of vanity upon you by the custom thereof, making yourselves to be wondered at by all, foreign civil nations and by all strangers that come among you, and be scorned, and contemned; a custom both fulsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fume thereof nearest resembling the horrible Stigian smelle of the pit that is bottomless."
Exhaling through the Nose.
The supposed curative virtues of the tobacco plant had much to do with its use in Europe while the singular mode of exhaling through the nostrils added to its charms, and doubtless led to far greater indulgence. Spenser in his Fairy Queen makes one of the characters include it with other herbs celebrated for medicinal qualities.
"Into the woods thence-forth in haste she went,
To seek for herbes that mote him remedy;
For she of herbes had great intendiment,
Taught of the Nymph which from her infancy,
Had nursed her in true nobility:
There whether it divine Tobacco were,
Or Panachæ, or Polygony,
She found and brought it to her patient deare,
Who all this while lay bleeding out his heart-blood neare."
Lilly also a little later, in his play of The Woman in the Moone (1597), speaks of it (through one of the characters) as being a medicinal herb—