The Tobacco-Glutton.
It is almost a peculiarity of the thief that he is in his furtiveappetite omnivorous. Everything that can be reduced to the chyle ofmoney is acceptable to him. While others have predilections, he hasabsolutely none. It is not that he is always, however, or even often inneed, and therefore glad to seize whatever comes in his way. I haveknown instances where he was by no means driven to his calling bynecessity, and yet not only was the passion to appropriate strong inhim, but he was at same time regardless of the kind of prey. Yes; itwould seem as if his passion sprang out of an inverted view of property,so that the word "yours" incited him to change its meaning. As a certainvalorous bird becomes ready for war the moment a brother of the samespecies is placed opposite to him on the barn-floor, so theregularly-trained "appropriator" gluggers and burns to be at a"possessor," as representing in his person some actual commodity. As aconsequence of this strange feeling I have found, however unlikely itmay appear, that thieves have really nothing of the common sense ofproperty--that is, love to it--after they obtain it. Unless for thesupply of a want, they often treat what they have stolen as if they notonly did not care for it, but absolutely wished it out of theirpossession,--not from fear of being detected by its presence, but forsome _loathing_ not easily accounted for. I have a case, however, of areal predilective _artiste_, the more curious that it stands in my booksalmost alone.
The way in which I became acquainted with Peter Sutherland was singularenough. I was, in April 1837, walking in the Meadows, where I have morethan once met wandering stagers whom I could turn to account of myknowledge of mankind. I came up to a young man very busy sending from ablack pipe large clouds of tobacco smoke. Always on the alert to add tomy number of profiles, I felt some curiosity about this lover of theweed, and going up to him, I made my very usual request for a light.
"By all means," said he, as he drew out his matchbox (and matches werethen dear, sometime after Jones's monopoly) and struck for me what Iwanted; "and I can fill your pipe too," said he, "for I like a smoker."
"Very well," said I, as I handed him my pipe, which was not out of theneed of a supply; "I like a smoke, though I cannot very well tell why."
"Why, just because, like me, you like it," said he laughing; "it makesone comfortable. I deny the half of the rhyme--
'Tobacco and tobacco reek, It maks me weel when I'm sick; Tobacco and tobacco reek, When I'm weel it maks me sick.'
It never makes me sick,--I smoke at all times, sick or well, night orday, in or out, working or idle."
"You carry it farther than I do," said I, "or, I rather think, than anybody I ever knew. I cannot touch the pipe when I'm unwell."
"I never found myself in that way yet," replied he. "I believe if deathcould take a cutty within those grinning teeth of his, I would smoke apipe with him."
"But it must cost you much money," said I, as I glanced at his seedycoat and squabashed hat.
"Oh, I can keep it off the price of my dinner," was the reply.
"But does it not dry your throat and make you yearn for ale?"
"Never a bit; though water, I admit, is a bad smoking drink. I take theale when I can get it, and if you'll stand a pot, this minute I'm ready.If I can't get it, I stick to the tobacco."
"And if you can't get the tobacco," said I, with more meaning perhapsthan he wotted, "what do you do?"
"That never happened yet," replied he, with a chuckle, "and it neverwill."
"You wouldn't steal it, would you?"--a question much in my way.
"I hope not," said he; "but if I did, 'twould only be the starved wretchtaking a roll out of the baker's basket, and you know that's notpunishable. My roll is just of another kind."
"You'd better not try the experiment."
"Never fear," said he; "I intend always to smoke my own twist, and havea bit to give to a friend in need."
And under the influence of this generous sentiment, he sent forth acloud worthy of Jove's breath to send it away into thin air, and leavingme, he struck off in the direction of the links, probably to see thegolfers. As I looked after him, there he was blowing away in thedistance, and apparently not less happy than King Coil, albeit that kingwas of a nation that loved another weed. I have known great smokers, butnever found that the passion, like that of opium, goes on without aterm. It has a conservative way about it, I think, and cures its ownexcess by producing a reaction in the stomach somehow. I have noticed,too, that the greatest smokers give up at some period of their lives,almost always--at least much oftener than the moderate-cloud compellers.
But be all that as it may, it is certain that I looked upon my friend asa kind of tobacco-glutton, only a curiosity not in my way, nor did Iexpect that he would ever be so. I say not, being unaware that I havelearned my readers a bad habit in looking for some ingenious connexionwhere none as yet exists--just as if I were a weaver of a cunning web,where the red thread is taken up where it suits me. By no means so, Imay say; but will I thereby prevent you throwing your detective visionbefore my narrative, when I begin to tell you that some considerabletime after this interview with my tobacco-fancier, I got information ofa robbery of a grocer's shop at Ratho, from which a great many articleswere taken, among the rest several rolls of tobacco, besides a number ofounces? Just the man, you will say, and so said I, as I went over thedescription of the thief as given to the grocer by some neighbours whosaw him hanging about the shop. I recollected my friend perfectly; butin order to abate your wonder at such coincidences, please to rememberthat I was in the habit of going up to every lounger I met, and that Ihave so retentive a remembrance of faces, that I have a hundred timespicked out my man from impressions derived from these casual encounters.I had never seen my tobacco-lover before nor after, and knew no morewhere to go for him, than where to look for another such jolly smokerout of Holland.
One night (just the old way) I was walking, with Mulholland behind me,down towards the west end of West Crosscauseway. My object at the time,I recollect, was to observe what was going on about Flinn's house inthat quarter; and I frankly confess, that so little hope had I of everseeing my old friend of the Meadow Walk, that I was thinking nothingabout him; nor when I saw a lounging-like fellow--it was in thegloaming--standing at the turn of the street speaking to a woman, had Ithe slightest suspicion that he was one on whom I had any claims forattention; and perhaps if there is to be a miracle in the matter, byhook or crook, it consisted in this, that with a view to get a nearerlook of him to see whether he belonged to Flinn's, I again went up toask, what I did not want, a light. My first glance satisfied me that Ihad my tobacco-fancier before me; but I was perfectly satisfied he hadno recollection of his friend of the Meadow Walk, and with thisconfidence I could enjoy a little fun. He took my pipe quite frankly.
"Why, there's nothing in it," said he, with the old generosity, "I willfill it for you, for I don't like to see a smoker with his pipe not onlyout, but empty."
And taking out a pretty large piece of tobacco, he twisted off a bit,took out a knife, and bidding me hold my hand, he cut it into shreds,filled my pipe, and lighted it.
"You seem to have plenty of tobacco," said I.
"Oh yes," said he; "and since you seem to be smoked out, I'll give you aquid for supper."
And to be sure he was not slack in giving me at least a quarter of anounce.
"Capital stuff," said I, as I blew away; "where do you get it?"
"Special shops," said he; "I won't have your small green-shop article."
I admit to have been a little cruel in this case, for I felt aninclination to play with my old friend, and straightway gave him the endof the thread he had drawn in the Meadows. By and by he got on in theold strain in praise of the object of his passion.
"It makes me comfortable," and so forth, reverting again to the rhyme,to the half of which he again demurred, and which I really rejoiced tohear, nor can help repeating--
"Tobacco and tobacco reek, It maks me weel when I'm sick; Tobacco and toba
cco reek, When I'm weel it maks me sick."
Restraining my laughter, and recurring again to the subject of the shopwhere such excellent stuff was to be got,
"In Edinburgh?" said I.
"No," said he, grandly, "there's no such thing in Edinburgh. It's madeby a special manufacturer, who uses the best young leaf from Virginia,and who wouldn't put a piece of common continental stuff in--no an' itwere to make his fortune. Ah, he likes a good smoke himself, and that'sthe reason, as I take it."
"It's so wonderfully good stuff," said I, preparing for my last whiff,"that if I knew where to send for half a pound, I would be at theexpense of the carriage. I see no reason why you should keep it asecret; such a manufacturer deserves encouragement. Come, is it atLeith, where so much of the real thing is smuggled?"
"Never uses smuggled tobacco," said he, as he looked to the woman withcomplacent smile, as if, according to my thought, he wanted to appearbig in her presence--a little simple even I myself in this thought, asyou will see immediately. "I find no use," he added, "in blowing in theQueen's face."
"Ratho?" said I.
And the word was no sooner out, than the girl went off like a flash,proving thereby that she was an accomplice, and he at the same instant;and, before I could seize him, he made up the Potterrow like a CherokeeIndian throwing away his calumet of peace in escaping from war. I madeinstantly after him, quickened by the conviction of my folly in utteringthe charmed _word_ without using at the same time my _hand_. Beingsupple in those days, and, though I say it, a first-rate runner,sufficient to have coped with Lapsley himself--whom I had afterwardssomething to do with, though not in the running line--I made up withmy man in the entry leading from the Potterrow to Nicolson Square,where, collaring him, I brought him to a stand. He became quitepeaceful, and as I walked him to the Office, I let him up to our oldacquaintanceship--the recollection of the part he took in which, so likethe conversation into which I had so playfully led him, made him bitehis lip for his stupidity.
"I fear you will now know," said I, "whether your case of the starvedwretch and the roll is applicable to your _roll_. I put you on yourguard at the time, and you see what you have made of it."
"Tobacco!" said the poor fellow with a groan, which went to my heartlike so many other groans necessitated to be shut out. "I began to smokewhen a mere child. I imitated my father. The passion grew upon me bydegrees, till I came to spend more money on't than I did upon meal. Iwas never happy unless I was steeped in the beloved lethargy, and alwaysmiserable when I could not get it. It has been to me what drink is to somany. I would have pawned my coat for a pipeful; ay, and I _have_ pawnedfor it. Surely this is God's work following the devil's."
And letting his head drop upon his breast, he groaned again deeper thanbefore.
"Yes," said I, "you have been upon the sliding scale. You began with a_whiff_, and you will end with a _blast_ that will carry you to BotanyBay."
"Yes, yes," he responded, "I now see that a very small gratificationmay be fed up into a passion, and that passion to a crime, and then theburst." And after some time he added, "But maybe the judges may havepity on me, when they know how I was pushed on from less to more."
"Then they would pity all that come before them," said I; "all crimeshave small beginnings and big endings."
And so I took him to the Office, where I proceeded to search him, andhere is something curious: He wore a kind of bonnet--a Gilmerton bonnet,because it is usually worn by the carters of that village. The articlehas often a hoop in it, to keep it light on the head; and concealed inthe case of the hoop there were a number of plies of the stolen twist.Nor was this all. On pulling up the legs of his trousers, there werediscovered three or four ply on each leg, serving the purpose ofgarters. Then within his neckcloth there were so many plies, that hemight have been said to have had a tobacco neckerchief. You might havecalled him a tobacco idol, fitted for being set up to be worshipped bythe votaries of the leaf.
No doubt he admitted afterwards that he had stolen from the shop theother articles amissing, but he asserted that it was the desire topossess the tobacco that urged him to the robbery, and that once beingin he had laid hold of whatever came to his hand. I cannot helpremarking, that my poor tobacco-fancier paid dear for his quid, ingiving for it seven long years of servitude in Botany Bay. I havesometimes wondered whether, when there, he ever took a pipe into hismouth. Not unlikely.