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.