Chapter IV
Forasmuch as I have lately treated of place I will now treat of time, which for the smoker may be cut into three divisions—initiative, inchoative-contingent, and ultimate, of which technical terms the meaning is this: initiative has reference to the time (or age) at which a man may begin to smoke; inchoative-contingent to the time (or hours) at which he smokes after he hath begun; and ultimate to the time after which he smokes no more, whether by death (which is woeful) or by the compulsion of others (which is more woeful), his own deliberate choice (which is beyond comparison most woeful). But, you ask, do I say that stopping short by death is the least woeful of all? Yea, verily I do. For as in the case of a drunkard (who does evilly) it is good if he cease to drink by his own free-will, less good if he do so compelled by others, and least good if he be estopped by death; so in the case of a smoker (who does well) the very opposite is the case. For it is most melancholy when a man ceases to do well by his own infirmity of mind, less so when he ceases compelled by others (for there is a chance that he may free himself and do well again), and least of all when death finds him still persisting in his well-doing, and to be subdued by it alone. So the three above terms being made clear, we can proceed to a separate consideration thereof.
Firstly, initiative or absolute commencement. That is to say the smoking of the first pipe, the causes that lead to it, the manner of smoking it, and the events that result from it. And as to the causes that lead to it they usually commence with an idle curiosity excited by seeing others smoking, especially if he in whose mind there is this curiosity be of tender years and he perceive certain of his own age (ἤλικες ἤβης) smoking in secret or openly, and apparently deriving gratification therefrom. Secondly, I assign as a cause original sin, disposing the mind to do what is forbidden. Especially is this the case in the schools, where smoking, being strictly forbidden, is much practised. Thirdly, I assign as a cause vanity or self-love, which represents that smoking promoteth a brave and manly appearance. All these acting together cause desire, the only counter to which is fear, arising naturally from the risk of stripes and the well-known vigour of tobacco in the unaccustomed stomach. But finally desire casts out fear, and the catechumen obtains possession of the fumificables in one of the four ways that we have before pointed out. And mostly it is by buying, this method affording the most pleasure. Next in secret (if he be fearful) or in the sight of witnesses (if he be vainglorious) is the very first pipe smoked, with all its rites of solemn illumination, placing between the lips, turning in the fingers, and the rest. At this point the casuists make an objection that properly there is, in fact, no such thing as a first pipe, inasmuch as the beginner's courage and stomach both fail him before half or a quarter of the tobacco in the pipe hath been smoked. Therefore, they maintaining that the term "primus tubulus," or first pipe, connotes the smoking of all the tobacco that may be in the aforesaid pipe, deny that such first pipe properly exists. To this I reply that primus tubulus doth by no means respond to their definition, but only denotes the first smoking of tobacco, were it but a single whiff, or even if a pipe be not used, but a cigar or cigarette. Secondly, it is by no means the fact that all beginners are sickened in the middle, for, if I remember rightly, I myself smoked my first pipe through without flinching, and dare say that many others have done likewise. But I admit that in most cases there cometh a horrid presentiment, with quaking of the flesh and a fearful pallor. Then all things, as it were, whirl round, the whole universe appears a-wrack, and night descends upon the soul. Such terrors, indeed, does the wretched one endure that it is likely that he vows henceforth a lifelong abstinence and curseth the hour in which he bought this dreadful herb to be a torment both to his spirit and his flesh. All this if he be private, and no one but himself wotteth of it; how much more if he be discovered and perchance rewarded with stripes and disgrace! And to represent this chain of cause and effect more clearly I subjoin the scheme on the following page ad exemplar Dummerkopfii, the which hath met with much approval at the hands of Pipe Philosophers.
Of a verity this initiative demandeth "robur et aes triplex," and it might seem wonderful how, knowing all this, any one can have courage to begin. But the heart of man is a stubborn thing and not to be taken aback, so, in spite of all, the flame is ever kindled anew, and the race of smokers multiplieth exceedingly.
Now this state of sorrow and abasement continues not long, and "mox reficit rates," soon the beginner getteth new pipes to replace those which were broken, and new tobacco in the room of that which was consumed. So little by little,
by slow degrees, he advanceth to cloudiness, fearing less with every pipe to be disturbed by sickness, and so at last becometh a smoker. But some there be (O infausti, miserabiles!) whose habit of body will never allow them to smoke, or at best only by whiffs and starts, by which little profit is to be got. Others are so confounded by the event of that first pipe that weeks become months and months years before they venture again and become in truth smokers. And Scriblerus Redivivus appears to me to discriminate very wisely between a smoker and one who smoketh, "for the first hath the habit of smoking, which the last hath not yet." And if it be asked at what age it is best to acquire the habit, I answer that generally the age of seventeen is the best, or thereabouts, but this must depend greatly on circumstances and habit of body, since it may be too early for some and too late for others.
Next, let us proceed to the inchoative-contingent, which presupposes the habitude of smoking, and has reference to the hours of the day or night at which it is most pleasant to smoke. And as to this answer—at all hours—with certain necessary and obvious exceptions. Firstly, it is good to smoke one pipe, and only one, before breakfast, at which time the body being empty of food is most amenable to the nicotinic energy. Secondly, fail not to smoke three pipes at the least immediately after breakfast. And these should be performed in the open air, and, if it is possible, while sauntering about a fair garden or pleasaunce, off which the dew has not yet gone, and odorous with the scents of flowers. Thirdly, in the afternoon smoke not less than three pipes, but not immediately after eating lest they breed heaviness and black choler. Fourthly, and lastly, in the evening, and far into the night, when hanging over your books, smoke as many pipes as possible, at the least not less than four. This I propound not as a maximum but a minimum, and necessary to be discharged by all. For any one who smokes less than eleven pipes per diem is not so much to be accounted a smoker as one who smoketh. And if at any time the student should feel his mouth to be, as it were, cloyed and brackish with much smoking, let him by all means pause for awhile, and drink a strong decoction of tea without either sugar or milk. For nothing is more recuperative and invigorant than this same black tea, and altogether a drink mightily to be commended. And thus in constant smoking and meditation passeth the life of the Pipe Philosopher. To him no place and no time are good save they give him liberty to smoke, and none ill save they take this liberty away. Although, by misfortune, he be compelled to battle with the world and earn his livelihood, yet it is but the body of the man that is so engaged, and his mind not at all. Wealth he only cares for as relieving him of this necessity, and enabling him to be more choice and curious in his fumificables. Opiparous fare and gentle living are held by him of no account, but rather as hindrances and stumbling-blocks to the spirit. Outward show, rich dress, and a fine appearance he dreams not of for himself, but delights to see them in others that he may on them vent his scorn. But most of all he despises that which men call love, and is wont, as we have seen, to look under a fair outside, and see the ruddy skin grow yellow and wrinkled, and at last, bursting asunder, disclose the grinning jaws, and holes for eyes, and layers of bone, about which, when they are covered over, there is such a pitiful to-do and exclamation. Thus, with much tobacco, many books, and a few friends, his life goes on, till at last the inchoative-contingent draws to an end, and the ultimate begins.
And when it has come to this, and he knows that he has but a few pipes more to smoke in this world, he taketh care that they be smoked well and with a good grace, until it cometh to ultimus tubulus, the very last pipe, and dying as he hath lived, neither hoping, fearing, nor regretting, he departs hence, and becomes but a memory of a life well lived, and a death bravely endured. But if this is a woeful matter—μείζων ἤ κατὰ δάκρυα—what shall we say of the man who by his own choice leaves off to smoke, and takes to himself some ribbon as a proclamation of his shame? He shall be as an evil savour, a stink, and an abomination in the nostrils of the faithful, and as one not fit to be named as a man. And let those who have brought him unto this be accounted as lemures and larvæ, and their voices as the squeaking of the bats of hell. So shall they be emptied out like ashes, and the recollection of them be even as the foulness of a pipe that is foul, but with a more exceeding foulness, and their memory as the memory of a bucket that is broken. Wherefore let those to whom there is still time take heed and make use of that time, concerning which such things have been said.