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