NEAL DOW ON THE TOBACCO BONDAGE.
SOME time since, I met an Englishman on a steamer, both of us making the same journey, to whom I was fortunate enough to be able to render some service, under certain circumstances which were awkward for him, but from which he was extricated with my help. By and by we took the shore, and I invited him to a share of a wagon I had engaged to take me to a town to which he was also bound, seven miles away over a country road. We were no sooner started on our little journey, than my friend took a cigar case from his pocket and said:— "No, thanks; I never smoke nor use tobacco in any way; that's a part of my education that was entirely neglected." "But it is a very great pleasure to smoke; I could not get on without it." "Perhaps I'm not well informed as to the sort of pleasure that comes from tobacco. I have heard a great deal said about it, and have talked with a great many people upon the subject, but am not certain that I understand it thoroughly. Now, I think it is a good opportunity to learn from you all about the pleasure of smoking, so that I can form an intelligent opinion as to the wisdom or unwisdom of the habit. Now, in what does the pleasure really consist?" "Well, after eating, a good cigar is a great comfort; it is a greater pleasure even than a good dinner to a hungry man." "Yes, I understand that; I have heard smokers say so many times. But what I wish to know is in what the 'pleasure'—the 'comfort'—consists? We have just had a good dinner at the landing place, in that nice hotel. I am perfectly satisfied and comfortable. I cannot at this moment think of any thing to eat or to drink that I should like. I am thoroughly comfortable. But you want something more—your cigar, and if by some accident you could not have one, wouldn't you be uncomfortable?" "Yes, I confess that I should." "Wouldn't you be very uncomfortable?"—(with a strong emphasis on the "very.") "Yes, I acknowledge that I should be so." "Pray excuse me for pressing the matter, because I am really anxious to ascertain as accurately as I can whether any real pleasure comes from tobacco—a pleasure that a sensible man need not be ashamed of. No man likes comfort, real, down-right comfort, better than I do. I enjoy greatly suitable and intelligent pleasure. Now, if I were to allow myself to be influenced by your example so as to have a share of the pleasure you speak of, what would happen? I could not smoke freely at once, I suppose, as you do now?" "No. You must learn to smoke by slow degrees." "During this process of learning I suppose I should be very sick?" "Yes, of course you would be sick." "Very sick I suppose. I have heard it said there would be deathly nausea at the stomach and violent, prolonged vomiting, with a cracking, snapping headache; is that a fair description of what I should suffer?" "Probably; but all beginners do not suffer so much." "Yes, I understand that; there are differences in physical constitutions. And besides that, some children are saturated with tobacco smoke; they live in a tobacco atmosphere, so that they would not suffer so much in learning to use tobacco in any way. But generally, as a rule, people learning to use tobacco are dreadfully sick and suffer very much." "Yes, as a rule they do. I did." "For how long a time does this suffering continue?" "That varies in different persons. I was sick for about four weeks. That's the average time. Some people suffer less and some more, and some persons cannot learn to use tobacco; they are always sick if they touch it." "Yes, that corresponds with what I've often heard. But now, suppose I've fully made up my mind to learn to smoke so as to have my share of the 'pleasure' the 'comfort' coming from it. I have great powers of endurance; I sit down to my task, as in a dentist's chair to have all my teeth pulled out. I don't flinch, but endure heroically the torture of the dreadful nausea, the retching and violent vomiting, and the crashing headache. My lips are livid, my face has the pallor, the anguish of the most painful death agony. You are standing by encouraging me and doing your best to keep my courage up. 'Don't be afraid,' you say, 'you'll not die. I've been through it all and more. For all this suffering and anguish you'll be rewarded many-fold in the pleasure and comfort of smoking.' Would you not say all that to encourage me?" "There was a pause. He didn't answer at first. Then he said: 'I've never thought of it in that way. I do not think I should encourage you, or even stand by the bedside of any one learning to use tobacco and encourage him to persevere.' Laughing heartily. 'I never thought of the ridiculous, absurd figure a man makes in learning to use tobacco. In fact, men never acquire the habit, or very rarely, and then under exceptional circumstances. It's boys who learn, because they think it smart and manly to use tobacco. They steal away into secret places; they hide behind the barn or creep under the wood-shed, out of sight, because they're ashamed, and there they smoke and vomit. That's the way in which ninety-nine of every hundred tobacco users have acquired the habit.'" "But to come back to myself. I do not nauseate now, or but very little. I've conquered that, but I have no desire whatever for a cigar. I can smoke one without being sick, but I would not touch one but for the example of others. Isn't that exactly what would happen?" "Yes, that was precisely my case." "But I persist in smoking; and by and by it becomes a necessity because if I omit the customary cigar I should suffer. After a year or two of the tobacco habit I should suffer very much if I could not have my cigar. Is that not precisely where I should be, where you are now?" "Yes, that is exactly the case; that's a fair statement of it." "Then, in short, I have suffered all this dreadful pain in learning to use tobacco, only to fasten upon myself a most expensive and offensive habit, which I must gratify under penalty of inexpressible suffering; which I cannot throw off except at the cost of torture almost unendurable. I continue the tobacco habit only to avoid the intense suffering which would otherwise torment me. The 'pleasure,' the 'comfort,' coming from the tobacco habit is this, only this, and nothing more; it wards off pain." "I have never heard the matter put in that way before, but I must confess that that is the whole of it. If I cannot have my cigar I suffer; while I am smoking the pain is relieved, is gone, and in fact that is all the pleasure that comes from smoking." "Upon the whole, then, I do not think I shall learn to use tobacco: to acquire a habit which is very costly; which makes one offensive to many people—a habit which unmans a man so far that he feels himself under a bondage which he cannot throw off without an effort that few men who are subject to it find themselves equal to."—Witness.