HIDDEN PASSENGERS
Trade brought more than silver across the Pacific. Tobacco may have led the parade. Somehow Portuguese ships brought the species across oceans and borders to Guangxi. in southern China. where archaeologists hale unearthed locally made tobacco pipes dating back to 1549. Little mote than two decades later, the plant arrived in the southeast, aboard a silver ship from Manila. Not long after that, it filtez.cl into the northeast, probably from Korea.
Nicotiana tabacum was as much an object of fascination in Yuegang as in London and Madrid. "You take file and light one end [of the pipe] and put the other end in your mouth," explained the seventeenth-century Fujianese poet Yao Lü. "The smoke goes down your throat through the pipe. It can make one tipsy." Writing not long after the smoking weed arrived in Fujian, Yao was amazed by its rapid spread across the province. "Now there is more here than in the Philippines," he marveled, "and it is exported and sold to that country."
Then as now, smoking was made to order for the boredom and inertia of army life. Tobacco was embraced by Ming soldiers. who disseminated it as they marched around the empire. In the southwestern province of Yunnan, one physician reported. Chinese soldiers "entered miasma-ridden (malarial) lands. and none Of them were spared disease except for a single unit, whose members were in perfect health. When asked the reason. the answer that they all smoked." (Mosquitoes dislike smoke, so smoking actually may have provided some protective effect against malaria-carrying insects.) From that point. the account continued. "smoking spread and now in the southwest, whether old or young, they cannot stop smoking from morning until night." As a child in the 1630s, the writer Wang Pu had never heard of tobacco. When he grew to adulthood, he later recalled, "customs suddenly changed, and all the people, even boys not four feet tall. were smoking."
"Tobacco is everywhere." announced what was apparently China's first smoking how-to book. Calling the plant "golden-thread smoke" and '"lovesick grass—the latter a nod to its penchant for hooking the user—the Qing dynasty's legions of smokers may have been the planet's most enthusiastic nicotine slaves. An ostentatious addiction to tobacco became the hallmark of the fashionable rich. Men boasted of their inability to eat, converse. and even think without a lighted pipe. Women carried special silk tobacco purses with elaborate jeweled fastenings: to protect their delicate essences from the harsh spirit of tobacco, they smoked extra-long pipes, some so big that they had to be lugged around by servants. A new poetic sub-genre among China's wealthy aesthetes: the hymn to tobacco.
Late-waking aristocratic women slept with their heads elevated on special blocks so that attendants could do their hair and makeup they were unconscious—it shortened the time between waking and the first tobacco of the day. "The scene is a little hard to imagine." remarked Timothy Brook, the Canadian historian whose studies of Chinese tobacco I am drawing upon here:
Brook found the tale of the sleeping smokers in Chen Cong's Yancao pu (Tobacco Manual), a learned collection of tobacco-related poetry and prose from 1805. An even more recondite compendium. Lu Yao's Yan pu (Smoking Manual) appeared around 1774. Lu, a former provincial governor, laid down the rules for nicotine consumption in aristocratic circles. Like a modem etiquette handbook, the manual provided a set of smoking do's and don'ts:
Late-waking aristocratic women slept with their heads elevated on special blocks so that attendants could do their hair and makeup they were unconscious—it shortened the time between waking and the first tobacco of the day. "The scene is a little hard to imagine." remarked Timothy Brook, the Canadian historian whose studies of Chinese tobacco I am drawing upon here:
Brook found the tale of the sleeping smokers in Chen Cong's Yancao pu (Tobacco Manual), a learned collection of tobacco-related poetry and prose from 1805. An even more recondite compendium. Lu Yao's Yan pu (Smoking Manual) appeared around 1774. Lu, a former provincial governor, laid down the rules for nicotine consumption in aristocratic circles. Like a modem etiquette handbook, the manual provided a set of smoking do's and don'ts:
From today's perspective. the Chinese courtier’s ornate surrender to tobacco seems absurd. but it had many equally odd counterparts abroad. At the same time that Lu Yao was laying out smoking etiquette, wealthy English were taking snuff (finely ground tobacco stems) in public sessions heavy with ritual. Opening their silver or ivory fetish of the eighteenth century." as the anthropologist Berthold Laufer put it—fashionable young blades scooped out measures of fresh-ground snuff with finger-length ladles made of bone. Parties fell quiet as groups of men in embroidered waistcoats simultaneously inserted tiny pucks of ground tobacco into their noses, then whipped out lace to muffle the ensuing volley of sneezes. Mastering the arcana of snuff was, for the addict, worth the bother: snorted tobacco delivered nicotine to the bloodstream faster than cigarette smoke. Few were more enraptured by the ritual than the celebrated London dandy Beau Brummell. who claimed to have a different snuffbox for every day of the year. Brummell instructed his fellow gallants in the subtle alt of using only one hand to open the box, extract a pinch of snuff, and stick it in a nostril. The injection had to be accomplished with a rakish tilt of the head to avoid unsightly brown drips.
Snuff mania had few consequences in England other than interrupted party chatter, high laundry bills, and nasopharyngeal cancer. China's tobacco addiction occurred in an entirely different context, and thus had an entirely different impact. N. tabacum was part of an unplanned ecological invasion that shaped, for better and worse, modern China.
At the time, China had roughly a quarter of the world's population, had to provide for itself on roughly a twelfth of the world's arable land. Both figures are imprecise at best, but there is little dispute that the nation has long had a lot of people and that it always has had relatively little land to grow crops to feed them. In practical terms. China had to harvest huge amounts of food—half or more of the national diet—from areas with enough water to grow rice and wheat. Unluckily, those areas are relatively small. The nation has many deserts, few big lakes, irregular rainfall, and just major rivers, the Yangzi and the Huang He (Yellow). Both rivers run long, looping courses from the western mountains to the Pacific coast. emptying into the sea scarcely 150 miles from each other. The Yangzi carries mountain runoff into the lice-growing flats near the end of its course. The Huang He takes it into the North China Plain, then as now the center of Chinese wheat production. Both areas are vital to feeding the nation: there are no other places in China like them. And both are prone to catastrophic floods.
Song and Yuan. Ming and Qing—every dynasty understood both this vulnerability and the concomitant necessity of maintaining China's agricultural base by controlling the Yangzi and Huang He. So important was water management that European savants like Karl Marx and Max Weber identified it as China's most important institution. Cleating and operating huge. complex irrigation systems, Weber claimed required organizing masses of laborers, which inevitably Cleated a powerful state bureaucracy and subjugated the individual. In an influential book from 1957. the historian Karl Wittfogel built on Marx to describe China and places with similar water-control needs as "hydraulic societies." Wittfogel's view of these societies can be gathered from the title of his book: Oriental Despotism. Europe, to his mind, avoided despotism because farmers didn't need irrigation. They fended for themselves. which created traditions of individualism, entrepreneurship. and technological progress that China never had. In recent years this thesis has fallen out of favor. Most Sinologists today believe that hydraulic Asia was just as diverse, individualistic, and market oriented as anywhere else, including non-hydraulic Europe. But this image still remains influential, at least in the West, where China is all too often viewed as an undifferentiated mass of workers, moving ant-wise to the directives of the state.
Excerpts taken from 1493: Uncovering the New World Columbus Created, by Charles Mann, Vintage, 2011.
From today's perspective. the Clinese courtier’s ornate surrender to tobacco seems absurd. but it had many equally odd counterparts abroad. At the same time that Lu Yao was laying out smoking etiquette, wealthy English were taking snuff (finely ground tobacco stems) in public sessions heavy with ritual. Opening their silver or ivory fetish of the eighteenth century." as the anthropologist Berthold Laufer put it—fashionable young blades scooped out measures of fresh-ground snuff with finger-length ladles made of bone. Parties fell quiet as groups of men in embroidered waistcoats simultaneously inserted tiny pucks of ground tobacco into their noses, then whipped out lace to muffle the ensuing volley of sneezes. Mastering the arcana of snuff was, for the addict, worth the bother: snorted tobacco delivered nicotine to the bloodstream faster than cigarette smoke. Few were more enraptured by the ritual than the celebrated London dandy Beau Brummell. who claimed to have a different snuffbox for every day of the year. Brummell instructed his fellow gallants in the subtle alt of using only one hand to open the box, extract a pinch of snuff, and stick it in a nostril. The injection had to be accomplished with a rakish tilt of the head to avoid unsightly brown drips.
Snuff mania had few consequences in England other than interrupted party chatter, high laundry bills, and nasopharyngeal cancer. China's tobacco addiction occurred in an entirely different context, and thus had an entirely different impact. N. tabacum was part of an unplanned ecological invasion that shaped, for better and worse, modern China.
At the time, China had roughly a quarter of the world's population, had to provide for itself on roughly a twelfth of the world's arable land. Both figures are imprecise at best, but there is little dispute that the nation has long had a lot of people and that it always has had relatively little land to grow crops to feed them. In practical terms. China had to harvest huge amounts of