After that, the doctor thanked the audience for their attention and concluded his speech by sitting down in his seat. His statement had a strongly encouraging effect upon the supporters of tobacco. I had the feeling that things were gradually slipping out of the king’s hands and going in an entirely different direction than that which he had intended. Despite his smile, it seemed that I could read certain signs of irritation and even alarm on his face. And these only grew when a man by the name of Tobias Venner stood up in the audience and said the following: “Gentlemen, we shall earn the scorn of future generations, if we do not recognize one very important and life-saving property of tobacco, which neither Dr. Cheynell nor Dr. Monardes preferred to emphasize. But I would like to stress it. Because among tobacco’s numerous medical properties we can also count its effect as a prophylactic measure against the plague. I have personally witnessed how in the city of Birmingham, where, due to the exceptionally unhygienic customs of its inhabitants, the plague recurs more often than anywhere on this earthly ‘sphere,’ as is said lately, I personally have witnessed how during the last plague the market-people there brought their provisions, having their mouths primed with tobacco as a preservative. One could see them chewing tobacco anytime one passed through the market place. Some of them stuffed their mouths so full of tobacco that, when you add to that their abominable dialect, a man from central London such as myself could not understand what they were saying at all. I would like to note, however, that contrary to uninformed expectation, nearly all of them survived. Furthermore, it has also been noted that that cruel affliction never dared pass the doorstep of a tobacconist. For example, Mr. Howell in one of his ‘Familiar Letters’ dated January 1—I can’t remember the year — says that the smoke of tobacco is one of the wholesomest scents that is against all contagious airs, for it overmasters all other smells. And I’ve heard that even our most learned King James found it true, when being once a hunting, a shower of rain drave him into a pigsty for shelter, where he smoked a pipe full to overmaster the repulsive scent.”
A surprised “aaaah” ran through the crowd.
“Your information is to some extent true, sir,” the king admitted. “Indeed, some such thing did occur once and we sought shelter in the pigsty of the Venerable Preston, the bishop there. However, I did not smoke the pipe, rather Lord Lonsdale did, on my orders.”
“Now that you mention the Venerable Preston’s pigsty, Your Majesty, this reminds me to add that in many places tobacco is used in churches as a disinfectant, as anyone who finds sufficient courage and patience to undertake a journey through the English countryside will discover.”
“That’s true,” the king nodded. “I can only confirm this unfortunate fact.”
“And allow me to note in closing, Your Majesty,” Venner continued, “that many of the unfortunate characteristics of tobacco emphasized here are not actually due to the plant itself, but to the substances it is mixed with. It is widely known that so-called ‘Birmingham tobacco’ is heavily mixed with coltsfoot. Hardly anyone will be surprised when I say that in Birmingham, a city known for its counterfeiters, some of whom recently swung from a rope thanks to their counterfeit coins, in Birmingham, I maintain, it is absolutely impossible for a man to supply himself with pure tobacco. For such simply does not exist there, gentlemen, anywhere in the city. My friend from London, Ridgecole, had the misfortune to spend a whole week in that city without taking tobacco with him from London, and he told me how one evening he nearly died from smoking only a half-pipe of tobacco, which he unwisely bought in the city of Birmingham. When we later examined this tobacco in my laboratory on Fenchurch Street — I am an apothecary, gentlemen — we were astounded to find that this tobacco contained huge quantities of salt. This caused me to think that in Birmingham they wet the tobacco and salt it, which is not visible to the naked eye, but which undoubtedly makes the tobacco considerably heavier, and allows the unscrupulous shopkeepers there to fill their pockets at your expense. Of course, if you smoke salt, a whole host of unpleasant things might happen to you and your health might suffer seriously. But not because of the tobacco, gentlemen, but because of the salt. Thus, I will take the liberty of giving our smokers a piece of advice. Most of you have heard tobacconists, especially those who have long been in the business, saying that ‘the Man in the Moon could enjoy his pipe.’ Hence, the Man in the Moon is represented on some of the tobacconists’ papers with a huge cloud of smoke billowing from his pipe and covering the entire sky, and underneath the words, ‘Who’ll smoake with ye Man in ye Moone?’ My advice, gentlemen, is to look for this sign. That tobacco is pure and real. Not that the Birmingham counterfeiters could not counterfeit these papers — of course, they could — but at least they have not begun to do so as of yet.”
A useful speech, indeed. How nice, I thought, that the debate about tobacco has shifted from a theoretical to a more practical vein. And even nicer still is the fact that in Spain such a problem does not exist. Where tobacco is sold in rolled-up leaves as cigars and cigarellas, such things are harder to do. Here they sell tobacco ground for pipes, and really anything could be mixed in there. It’s no coincidence that the Dutch thought up this business. Those hucksters are constantly lying. That’s why they came up with tobacco for pipes. They claim that they supposedly do it because that’s the way the Indians themselves smoke it, but in fact they do it to cut the tobacco. Ask anyone in Spain about the Dutch and you’ll get an earful. If they weren’t such terrible liars, Duke de Alba would’ve gotten the best of them long ago. But no. They show up somewhere, our people go to engage them in battle, and they strike you somewhere else entirely. They are always up to tricks, constantly lying about something. Revolting people.
“Yes,” the king called. “A Tobacco-seller is the only man that finds good in it which others brag of, but do not; for it is meat, drink, and clothes to him. I would call his shop the Rendezvous of spitting, where men dialogue with their noses, and their communication is smoke. It is the only place, by the way, where Spain is commended in this country, and preferred before England itself. Well, gentlemen, does anyone wish to take the floor before I make my concluding remarks?”