is a victim of Nature. In her madness she has created within his body one endlessly complex and poorly regulated mechanism, always on the verge of breaking down, yet at the same time unpredictable, chaotic, and random—he might collapse from the tiniest thing, yet he might also withstand the most monstrous experiences. Take, for example, the sailor, Francisco Rodrigues, one of the eighteen survivors from Magellan’s expedition (who was also Portuguese, by the way, which is surely one of the reasons he died in so absurd a fashion), who somehow endured a three-month fever in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, far from any source of succor, only to die from the prick of a rusty nail on the vessel Hyguiene, anchored in the Port of Sevilla, of all places, as he was looking her over, deciding whether to join her crew—an endeavor that he incidentally was under no financial compulsion to undertake, since Magellan’s spices had made him rich. He intended to take to the seas again because he was squandering his wealth so freely that in five or six years’ time, as he liked to say, it would be all gone.
This unpredictability of the body—to get back to my original thought—is a consequence of the chaoticness, randomness, and unpredictability of Nature itself. Did I say unpredictability? In fact, this is not always the case. If there is any great marvel whatsoever in this world, it is that Nature can sometimes be controlled. For that, of course, extensive skills and knowledge are necessary, but in principle it is possible. Figuratively speaking, you can drag Nature out of the madhouse and force her to do something. Of course, she continues lurching and grimacing, keeps babbling nonsensically, but she does it. Then next time she won’t do it. It depends.
There are certain means through which she can be forced, in particular circumstances, to act as we wish. Such a means, practically omnipotent, was discovered by our seamen in the Indies over the past half-century or so. This well-nigh magical means was completely unknown to Antiquity, whose number includes even Herodotus, Heraclitus, or whatever they called that mighty ancient healer, whose name escapes me for the moment. Of course, we are talking about the almost almighty tobacco. This is precisely the medicine to which Dr. Monardes has dedicated his book about its healing powers. Dr. Monardes is an ideal innovator, a true discoverer. This was the first and, at the time, the only book of its kind in Europe. However, I will let the author speak for himself:
My assistant and colleague Señor Dr. da Silva asked me to write a few words in his work—a request I responded to joyfully, being flattered by the faith shown in me, for which I wish to thank him sincerely. Henceforth I shall express myself more briefly (due to pressing engagements).
My tract about tobacco was published in Sevilla under the title “On Tobacco and Its Great Virtues, by Dr. Nicolas Monardes, M.D. LL.D. I.S.O. M.A. D.J. M.C.” The latter is a selection of my titles. It is also known by the same name in France (without the titles, however). The tract in question is part of my book “A Medical History of Remedies Brought from the West Indies,” or, in short, “Historia medicinal.” In England, due to the singular whim of its translator, it appeared under the title “Joyfull News out of the New Found World.” Following my indignant inquiry, I was assured that in England if something does not begin with “Joyfull News” no one buys it or reads it. The English, as I came to understand, look upon all books, including medical writings, primarily as a means of entertainment to pleasantly while away one’s spare time, for which reason every other title there now begins with “Joyfull News.” For example, if the work in question addresses the massacre in Lancaster, the book will be published as “Joyfull News out of the Massacre in Lancaster.” I give this example because I have seen it with my own eyes. In short, I was forced to back down.
This was merely a clarification. Now I would like to offer the reader some useful advice:
1. Go to bed early. The best time is around eight o’ clock in the evening in the winter and nine o’ clock during the summer.
2. No fewer than eight hours of sleep.
The advice above could be paraphrased more simply as follows: Go to bed one hour after sundown, get up one hour before sunrise. The more attentive reader will most likely note that this is precisely a simplified paraphrase. However, with the passage of time I have become convinced that not only in England, where it is absolutely necessary, but also everywhere else, it is best to state things in a simplified manner, as this is the only way they will be understood. With the exception of France, however, where it is preferable to state things as complexly as possible, ideally such that nothing whatsoever can be understood. Then in France they will declare you a philosopher.
3. Food—three times a day. Lavish breakfast, fair-to-middling lunch, light supper. The reader may imagine food as a slide: in the morning you find yourself at its highest point, at noon in the middle, and in the evening at its lowest part. Its lowest part is not necessarily a place where one falls on one’s arse and subsequently spends the next hour thus in the privy.
4. Meat dishes should be alternated with meatless ones, ideally on the same day, but if this proves impossible—then every other day. Overconsumption of meaty foods leads to diseases of the kidneys, while eating only meatless fare weakens the organism.
5. Moderate labor. If possible—none at all. Avoid working in the afternoon and especially the evening. Do not forget what the Bible teaches us—labor was something used to punish Adam.
6. Warm clothes during the winter. If when you look outside you reckon you will need one woolen jersey, put on two. It is of particular importance to keep your feet warm, thus the same applies to socks as well. Countless people die of colds that could easily be avoided, except in the cases of the most destitute, among whose ranks our reader can scarcely be counted. Furthermore, one’s neck should be wrapped in a scarf.
3a) It is sufficient for a person to go to any pub whatsoever to see gluttonous animals. Overeating gathers all the bodily fluids in the stomach, leads to a feeling of heaviness, and upsets the activity of the entire organism (from whose extremities the fluids are withdrawn so as to aid digestion within the stomach). In cases of systematic abuse, this leads to corpulence, which thins the bones and encumbers the heart. Stop gorging yourself!
3b (7.) It has been said many times, but let us repeat: Do not abuse alcoholic beverages. Two glasses of wine a day maximum, one at noon and one in the evening. Spirits—only in the winter, 75 gr. maximum. Yes, I know it seems like very little. This is not news to me.
The above-mentioned advice could be formulated in a more simplified manner (and summarized, which is, in fact, the same thing) as follows: He who eats and drinks a lot dies young. You have certainly heard the so-called blessing “Eat, drink and be merry!” To the same effect they may as well have told you: “Die sooner!”
8. Use tobacco habitually, in the form of smoke for inhalation. This protects the organism from infection and strengthens it as a whole. Señor Dr. da Silva has informed me that in the present work he will discuss several illustrative examples of tobacco’s healing power, thus I will conclude, remaining
Your fervent well-wisher
and most humble servant,
Dr. Nicolas Monardes,
M.D. LL.D. I.S.O. M.A. D.J. M.C.
P.S. For other examples of the healing power of tobacco see my above-cited treatise “On Tobacco and Its, etc.”
My intention in the present book is to describe approximately thirty-six examples of the healing power of tobacco (it is I, Guimarães). I do not know whether it will be necessary to cite all of them—this question will be decided in the course of the writing. In any case, I can categorically claim that the unconquerable substance alluded to here can cure between thirty and forty illnesses and bodily indispositions. Now I will begin to cite them, beginning with the most illustrative:
1.
Against Death
Of course, I realize that death is neither an illness, nor a bodily indisposition. However, it could be considered their most extreme consequence and ultimate goal, thus in this sense it is uncontrovertibly—and inextricably—linked with them. Did I say inextricably? No! And no again! I personally witnessed how Dr. Monardes, with the help of the healing power of tobacco, resurrected a man from the