A Kemble Cigar?

There is an English expression, particularly popular in the far western English county of Herefordshire, that the last pipe smoked on any occasion is called the "Kemble pipe" and the last drink had is called the "Kemble cup." The expression comes from the story of the martyrdom of a Roman catholic priest named John Kemble.

John Kemble was born in Rhydicar Farm, St. Weonard's in Herefordshire, England in 1599, son of John Kemble and Anne Morgan. He was ordained a priest at Douai College in 1625, and was sent back to England where he ministered the people of Herefordshire and Monmouthshire without event for 54 years. In his eightieth year, he was accused of participating in the concocted plot of Titus Oates, a rumored "Popish Plot" where the Protestant King Charles II was to be murdered to allow the installation for his Catholic brother James. This false accusation led to his arrest. He was charged with treason, though probably entirely innocent of the affair. In any event, though absolved of participation in the "Popish Plot," he was found guilty of treason for simply saying Mass and being a Catholic priest, but illegal at the time. He spent months in jail, first in Hereford Gaol, and the in Newgate Prison in London, before his execution by hanging. Prior to his execution, it is said that, after having engaged in his devotions, he calmly smoked a pipe and drank a cup of sack with the under-sheriff and the governor of the prison. This gave rise to the expressions "Kemble pipe" and "Kemble cup."

St. John Kemble was one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales canonized by Pope Paul VI on October 25, 1970.

Merry Christmas the Cigar Way

To all the St. HOLG's members. Merry Christmas!

Metaphysical Tobacco

Michael East (ca. 1580-1648) (alternative spellings of his last name include Easte, Est, and Este) is the author of our next old poem on tobacco. He was an English composer, organist, and choirmaster and Lichfield Cathedral. He wrote a number of hymns, anthems, and madrigals, perhaps his most famous being the 5-part madrigal "Hence Stars" which is in the collection of madrigals dedicated to Queen Elizabeth I entitled Triumphs of Oriana. The madrigal we address in this posting is a short madrigal entitled "O metaphysical tobacco" written circa 1606.*

O metaphysical tobacco!
Fetch'd as far as from Morocco:
They searching fume
Exhales the rheum;**
O metaphysical tobacco!

______________________________
*E. H. Fellowes, English Madrigal Verse: 1588-1632 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1920), 81.
**Rheum is ultimately derived from Latin rheuma which itself is a borrowing from Greek rheuma (ῥεῦμα), meaning that which flows, has current, or is in flux, such as in, e.g., a stream or fortune.

Here's an interesting quote from the great British preacher Charles Haddon Spurgeon (1834-92), who much loved to smoke his cigars. The quote is from a sermon in the autumn of 1874, when a visiting preacher had condemned the smoking of cigars as sinful. Spurgeon got up after the visiting preacher sat down, and defended the smoking of cigars. This created such a controversy that he later felt the need to explain his actions in a letter to the newspaper The Daily Telegraph.

Part of Spurgeon's sermon:

"I intend to smoke a good cigar to the glory of God before I go to be tonight. If anybody can show me in the Bible the command, "Thou shalt not smoke," I am ready to keep it; but I haven't found it yet. I find ten commandments, and it's as much as I can do to keep them; and, I've no desire to make them into eleven or twelve. . . . . I wish to say that I'm not ashamed of anything whatever that I do, and I don't feel that smoking makes me ashamed, and therefore I mean to smoke to the Glory of God."

Spurgeon's defense as published by the newspaper:

To the Editor of the Daily Telegraph.
SIR,

YOU cannot regret more than I do the occasion which produced the unpremeditated remarks to which you refer. I would, however, remind you that I am not responsible for the accuracy of newspaper reports, nor do I admit that they are a full and fair representation of what I said. I am described as rising with a twinkling eye, and this at once suggested that I spoke flippantly; but indeed, I did nothing of the kind. I was rather too much in earnest than too little.
I demur altogether and most positively to the statement that to smoke tobacco is in itself a sin. It may become so, as any other indifferent action may, but as an action it is no sin.
Together with hundreds of thousands of my fellow-Christians I have smoked, and, with them, I am under the condemnation of living in habitual sin, if certain accusers are to be believed. As I would not knowingly live even in the smallest violation of the law of God, and sin in the transgression of the law, I will not own to sin when I am not conscious of it.
There is growing up in society a Pharisaic system which adds to the commands of God the precepts of men; to that system I will not yield for an hour. The preservation of my liberty may bring upon me the upbraidings of many good men, and the sneers of the self-righteous; but I shall endure both with serenity so long as I feel clear in my conscience before God.
The expression "smoking to the glory of God" standing alone has an ill sound, and I do not justify it; but in the sense in which I employed it I still stand to it. No Christian should do anything in which he cannot glorify God; and this may be done, according to Scripture, in eating and drinking and the common actions of life.
When I have found intense pain relieved, a weary brain soothed, and calm, refreshing sleep obtained by a cigar, I have felt grateful to God, and have blessed His name; this is what I meant, and by no means did I use sacred words triflingly.
If through smoking I had wasted an hour of my time—if I had stinted my gifts to the poor—if I had rendered my mind less vigorous—I trust I should see my fault and turn from it; but he who charges me with these things shall have no answer but my forgiveness.
I am told that my open avowal will lessen my influence, and my reply is that if I have gained any influence through being thought different from what I am, I have no wish to retain it. I will do nothing upon the sly, and nothing about which I have a doubt.
I am most sorry that prominence has been given to what seems to me so small a matter—and the last thing in my thoughts would have been the mention of it from the pulpit; but I was placed in such a position that I must either by my silence plead guilty to living in sin, or else bring down upon my unfortunate self the fierce rebukes of the anti-tobacco advocates by speaking out honestly. I chose the latter; and although I am now the target for these worthy brethren, I would sooner endure their severest censures than sneakingly do what I could not justify, and earn immunity from their criticism by tamely submitting to be charged with sin in an action which my conscience allows.

Yours truly,

C. H. SPURGEON.

Nightingale Lane, Clapham, Sept. 23.

Spurgeon's love of cigars was so well known that there used to be a brand of cigars in Spurgeon's name, no doubt the result of some advertiser trying to get some Protestants hooked on the leaf.

Source: Spurgeon's Love of Fine Cigars

Cigar Mouthpieces

I'd like to get the opinion of Jorge, our resident cigar guru, on the merits/demerits of cigar holders or cigar mouthpieces. I would have to liken it to engaging contraceptive sex: that is an entirely artificial falsification of the real thing.

The 19th century Smoker's Guide, Philosopher and Friend, by "A Veteran of Smokedom," puts it this way: "For our part, to smoke a cigar through a mouthpiece is equivalent to kissing a lady through a respirator." (p. 61)

The Religious Drinking of Tobacco

I have found a couple of old cigar poems. I will post the first one by the Puritan poet Robert Wisdome in this posting, and another--being a madrigal authored by Michael East (1580-1648)--in the next.

The first poem entitled "A Religious Use of Taking Tobacco" is attributed by many to the archdeacon of Ely and poet Robert Wisdome, later nominated by King Edward VI to an Irish bishobric (d. 1568). I therefore offer this poem with a monitum, a warning, inasmuch as our right reverend archdeacon was an enemy of both the Pope and the Turk. As to the first, he was in error. As to the second, he was aright.

Wisdome's unwise tendentiousness shows itself in his hymnody. There is a hymn attributed to Wisdome which begins:

Preserve us, Lord, by thy dear word,
From Turk and pope defend us, Lord.

I suppose he had his reasons, and he is said to have fled merry old England when the Catholic Queen Mary assumed the throne of England.

In any event, this sort of bias was mocked by Bishop Richard Corbet (1592-1635), one of the so-called "metaphysical poets," who wrote a poem entitled "To the Ghost of Robert Wisdome."* He was dean of Christchurch Oxford, then Bishop of Oxford, and finally Bishop of Norwich.

Thou once a body, now but air,
Arch-botcher of a psalme or prayer,
From Carfax come!
And patch me up a zealous lay.
With an old ever and for ay,
Or, all and some.

Or such a spirit lend me,
As may a hymn down send me
To purge my brain:
So, Robert, look behind thee,
Lest Turk or Pope do find thee,
And go to bed again.

"Puritan" Brand Cigar Label

In his poem "A Religious Use of Tobacco," Wisdome wisely seeks to link the smoking of tobacco with human life within the perspective of the Christian revelation. The poem therefore seeks to view the smoking of tobacco as a memento mori, a reminder of death. It notes that tobacco is like a man who is born and quickly shoots up like a sapling. Not long, however, the decay of age sets in, and eventually the life is cut down by death. The change of the tobacco leaf into smoke is a symbol of life's fleetingness, its vanity. Life and all the earthly goods are as ephemeral as cigar smoke. Wisdome likens the filth of the pipe to the soul marred by sin, and such sin is cleansed only as if through fire. The ashes that are left behind ought to remind us that were but dust and ash, and to dust and ash we shall return. Cinerem in cinerem, pulverem in pulverem.

The Indian weed, withered quite,
Green at morn, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay,
All flesh is hay:
Thus think, then drink Tobacco.**

And when the smoke ascends on high,
Think thou beholdest the vanity
Of worldly stuff,
Gone with a puff,
Thus think, then drink tobacco.

And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soul defil'd with sin,
And then the fire
It doth require.
Thus think, then drink tobacco.

The ashes that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind,
That unto dust
Return thou must.
Thus think, then drink tobacco.

Some forms of this poem have an alternative first stanza attributed to the Calvinist George Wither (1588-1667). Wither also adds an additional stanza.

Why should we so much despise,
So good and wholesome an exercise,
As early and late,
To meditate:
Thus think, then drink Tobacco.

The pipe that is so lily-white,
Shows thee to be a mortal wight;***
And even such,
Gone with a touch,
Thus think, then drink tobacco.

__________________________________

*See Thomas Warton, History of English Poetry: From the Twelfth to the Close of the Sixteenth Century (London: Reeves & Turner, 1871), Vol. 4, 131-32.
**It seems odd, but "drinking" tobacco was another way of referring to the "smoking" of tobacco. See Notes and Queries: Media of Inter-Communication for Literary Men, Artists, Antiquaries, Genealogists, etc. (London: Bell & Daldy, 1856) (2nd series, Vol. I (Jan-Jun 1856), 378 (s.v. "Song on Tobacco") It may, however, also stem from the Elizabethan custom of both breathing and swallowing the smoke. As a result of this oddity, some versions of the poem have replaced the term "drink" with "take."
***Wight is a Middle English word derived from Old English wiht, and it is used to refer to a sentient being or creature. It is most often used to describe a living human being.

And interesting discussion of this poem may be found at "To 'Drink' Tobacco" a posting in the blog Gypsy Scholar.

One very long smoke!

Now here's a cigar to strive for, though it won't fit even in Jorge's humidor!



The world's longest cigar that stretched 268 feet 4 inches, or most of the length of a football field, is seen in Havana May 3. Resting on tables, it sprawled through El Morro, an old Spanish fort overlooking Havana Bay, where Cuba is holding its annual International Tourism Fair. The cigar, once it is officially accepted by Guinness World Records in London, will eclipse the previous record cigar of 148 feet 9 inches, both rolled by Jose Castelar Cairo, better known as "Cueto".

Cigar Brand I Will Never Buy

Some cigar brands simply do not make the cut. This is one of them that will not touch the lips of a St. HOLG's cigar member.

Cigars Help in The Difficult Crossing

We have had a couple of postings on the Belgian artist René François Ghislain Magritte (1898-1967) who was famous for his surrealist paintings. One should refer to the prior postings Ceci n'est pas un cigare and The Cigar in a State of Grace for background. In this posting, we look at another of Magritte's works that incorporates a cigar. It is one of a series of paintings that attempt to depict the "difficult crossing," la traversée difficile. These paints all seem to have several fixtures. First, there is something akin to to a column or a baluster-like object, a bilboquet. In some of these paintings, it looks like a white pole similar to a pawn or a bishop's piece in a chess set.

In this particular painting dated 1946, the bilboquet shows itself in the form of a lamp. It may be called the "hero" or protagonist of the painting, and seems to be the center or stability in the piece. An additional common feature of all these paintings is the presence of a table. Most of the time, the legs of the table are depicted. In this particular version, only the tabletop remains. When there is a table, there is always an object on the table. In one of his paintings, for example, it is a wooden hand holding a bird. In this instance, the object on the table is a cigar box holding a lit cigar. Though the other paintings of this kind all have steps, in this instance the steps are only implied in the balustrade in the background. The curtain and the ambiguity between the outer and inner space are also frequent objects, in this case the presence of a window is extremely disguised. Always, the outside is stormy weather tied to the energetic and frothy sea.

Cigar Envy: A Vice Frowned Upon by St. HOLG's

St. HOLG's is a Christian cigar club, though we are ecumenical and tolerant of all faiths with which we share the natural law that binds are cigar lovers. But one thing we expect from every member and visitor is to curb any cigar envy. Cigar envy is a mortal sin among the members of St. HOLG's. We enjoy sharing our cigars, some good camaraderie, and will not brook any scintilla of jealousy of others' cigars.

A Dogma of St. HOLG's

This is one of the irreformable dogmas of the St. HOLG's cigar club.

This, one might add, is a great example of solidarity.

The Smoker a la Affiches Arrachées

The French modernist artist Jean-Charles Blais was born in Nantes (Loire-Atlantique) on October 22, 1956. At eighteen he was enrolled at the "École des Beaux-Arts" in Rennes, where he studied art for five years between 1974 to 1979. Beginning in the early 1980s Jean-Charles Blais focused on the art of the Nouveaux Réalistes, Pop-Art and Arte Povera of Mario Merz, especially the works of the so-called "affiches arrachées", i.e, "torn posters," which had a fundamental influence on Blais' work.

Jean-Charles Blais began to paint on recycled materials, including posters, cans, cardboard boxes and sheets of newspaper. In 1982, he painted only on torn off posters, using the irregular surface to guide him in the painting of his characters, The surface defects, which removed an element of freedom, determined his compositions. His first characters are generally large men who occupy a large part of the pictorial space. The faces are always hidden, a characteristic which transforms the figures into heavy silhouettes. Later works of this genre subsequently refined the appearance, but the identity of the subject is still missing. In the art of Jean-Charles Blais of this period, his figures are no longer characters but objects, their bodies are pieces of painting.

The 1984 painting Le Fumeur, or "The Smoker," is of this latter category. We do not have a silhouette, but a large figure, with a small head, any personality hidden by a large hand holding a cigar and a great puff of smoke billowing forth from the hidden mouth of the anonymous smoker.

The piece is a pastel on paper, 32 cm x 26 cm.

The Virtuous Apathy of Cigars

Thomas Hood (1799 – 1845), a British humorist and poet, was apparently a cigar lover. He wrote a poem whose thrust is the ability of a cigar to allow withdrawal from the world, an experience which most cigar smoker has felt at one time or another. The desert fathers and Greek spiritual writers often urge the Christian to develop a sort of divine apathy--apatheia. In a way, what these writers suggest ought to be done by virtue, discipline, prayer, conversion, and grace, the cigar does naturally. Fame, politics, running for office, international affairs, reading the newspaper, one's investments, one's career, one's ambition, the desire for wealth, the thirst for travel, the disappointments of love. All these things seem to be overcome through a cigar smoked in the quiet of one's home.

Thomas Hood

The Cigar*
by Thomas Hood

Some sigh for this and that,
My wishes don't go far;
The world may wag at will,
So I have my cigar.

Some fret themselves to death
With Whig and Tory jar;
I don't care which is in,
So I have my cigar.

Sir John requests my vote,
And so does Mr. Marr;
I don't care how it goes,
So I have my cigar.

Some want a German row,
Some wish a Russian war;
I care not. I'm at peace
So I have my cigar.

I never see the 'Post,'
I seldom read the 'Star;'
The 'Globe' I scarcely heed,
So I have my cigar.

They tell me that Bank Stock
Is sunk much under par,
It's all the same to me,
So I have my cigar.

Honors have come to men
My juniors at the Bar;
No matter - I can wait,
So I have my cigar.

Ambition frets me not;
A cab or glory's car
Are just the same to me,
So I have my cigar.

I worship no vain gods,
But serve the household Lar;**
I'm sure to be at home,
So I have my cigar.

I do not seek for fame,
A general with a scar;
A private let me be,
So I have my cigar.

To have my choice among
The toys of life's bazaar,
The deuce may take them all
So I have my cigar.

Some minds are often tost
By tempests like a tar;
I always seem in port,
So I have my cigar.

The ardent flame of love,
My bosom cannot char,
I smoke but do not burn,
So I have my cigar.

They tell me Nancy Low
Has married Mr. R.;
The jilt! but I can live,
So I have my cigar.

_____________________________________
*From The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, (London: Frederick Warne & Co, 1890),498-99.
*Lar is the singular form of Lares, the domestic deities of ancient Rome.

In his film City Lights, Charlie Chaplin uses the cigar as a prop to show the deception of people's appearances relative to reality. Chaplin has received a Rolls-Royce and a nice suit from a drunk millionaire who cannot remember anything the next morning when sober. He therefore kicks Chaplin out of his home unceremoniously. As he tries to figure out what to do, a man strolls by with a cigar, and the smoke is simply irresistible. He follows the gentleman until he drops his cigar butt on the sidewalk, and then quickly gets into a competition with a bum for the cigar. The bum, of course, is fooled by the appearance of Chaplin. He is left wondering how such a rich man as drives a Rolls-Royce and wears nice clothes should fight him for a cigar butt on the sidewalk.

For those in our cigar club, there is no need to go chasing after cigar butts. We have a nice inventory of cigars at Fr. James Farfaglia's humidor.

Hey, Pink, whoever you are, have a cigar!

Pink Floyd uses the cigar in its cynical classic "Have a Cigar." The song is found in the group's Wish You Were Here album. One may recall that the original cover shows a businessman on fire. For those that don't recall, one can find a copy of the cover below.

While speaking of burning businessmen, "Have a Cigar" is essentially a short ballad. The story line is one where the members of the band are brought into the office of a record company executive. They are offered a cigar, and promised immortality along with a sweet deal which will introduce them into the "gravy train." The executive displays his ignorance by asking the group, "Which one of you is Pink?" not realizing that Pink Floyd was not the first and last name of a band member. It seems that there is a certain sense that the band has sold its soul for money. Mammon won the day.

"Have A Cigar"

Come in here, dear boy, have a cigar.
You're gonna go far, you're gonna fly high,
You're never gonna die, you're gonna make it if you try; they're gonna love you.
Well I've always had a deep respect, and I mean that most sincerely.
The band is just fantastic, that is really what I think.
Oh by the way, which one's Pink?
And did we tell you the name of the game, boy
We call it Riding the Gravy Train.

We're just knocked out.
We heard about the sell out.
You gotta get an album out,
You owe it to the people.
We're so happy we can hardly count.
Everybody else is just green, have you seen the chart?
It's a helluva start, it could be made into a monster
If we all pull together as a team.
And did we tell you the name of the game, boy
We call it Riding the Gravy Trail.

And they tell me all the winners smoke cigars

Josiah Leming, who might be classified as a musician that lived out of his car and who was self-promoted through Facebook and You Tube, is one of those modern phenomenons given to us by American Idol. Though he was cut before the semifinals in Season 7 of American Idol, he was able to negotiate a contract with Warner Brothers which resulted in his debut album, "Come on Kid." The album was a failure, which resulted in Warner Brothers quickly dropping him from its label. He continues his musical career, therefore, largely solo, suffering the disadvantage of weak marketing.

Though he is hardly a star, he does have the distinction of writing a song about cigars. For Leming, the cigar is a symbol of his dreams, dreams that he has not be successful at achieving. He seeks to go beyond mere cigarettes and alcohol, and seeks the grandeur that is epitomized by the cigar. For Leming, therefore, the cigar is a symbol of both his failure and his desire for success.

"This Cigar" Lyrics:

This cigar, burns a hole straight through my jeans and
Through your heart, as we watch the ashes form
Another scar, that I will never show
But some how everybody seems to know my demons
In all my efforts I've committed treason
For chasing dreams that are changing like the seasons
Make me feel so small, but I'm so proud to tell them all

That I'm a man now
I can drive a car
And I'm a drop out
I'm nobody so far
But I don't mess with
Cigarettes and alcohol
Cos I'm the best there is
And they tell me all the winners smoke cigars

This guitar, is pouring melodies that burn
Inside my heart, as the sound is broken up
By passing cars, they don't know that I'm above
Ir that I'm swimming in the middle of an ocean
I'm riding on a wave of pure emotion
Yeah, I'm drinkin up this sea like it's a potion
Maybe it could lend me wings, I'll either float or start to sink

Cos I'm a man now
I can drive a car
And I'm a drop out
I'm nobody so far
But I don't mess with
Cigarettes and alcohol
Cos I'm the best there is
And they tell me all the winners play guitar

And I know I've never been the kind
To let them get inside my mind
You just got to see that I need them on my side
I promise not to breathe it in
or ever strum a chord again
cos it hurts my lungs and burns my tongue to know that....

This cigar, burns a hole straight through my jeans
And through her heart, as we watch the ashes form
Another scar, that I could never show
Yet somehow everybody seems to know my demons
In all my efforts I've committed treason
For chasing dreams that are changing like the seasons
I know that I'm so small but I'm so proud to tell you all

That I'm a man now
I can drive a car
And I'm a drop out
Nobody so far
But I don't mess with
Cigarettes and alcohol
Cos I'm the best there is
And they tell me all the winners smoke cigars

I'm a sucker for fine Cuban cigars . . .

Brad Paisley, the country music singer, enjoys cigars on sufficient enough occasions to have developed a love for them, and to write a song about them. It is called "The Cigar Song," and it is found on his "Mud on the Tires" album. Unfortunately, the character loves cigars so inordinately that he ends up committing insurance fraud. No evil goes unpunished. And the love of cigars is no recognized affirmative defense to arson. So he is convicted and ends up in jail smoking cheap 10-cent cigars.

In his album "Mud on the Tires" is included a song entitled "The Cigar Song." The lyrics are as follows:

Well I'm a sucker for fine Cuban cigars
The problem is I can't afford 'em
But last year I went and got myself a whole box
And just to be safe I insured 'em

[Chorus]
I took out a policy against fire and theft
And then I hurried home
With a fifty-cent lighter I sat on my back steps
And I smoked 'em one by one

Two weeks later I went to see that insurance man
And I handed in my claim
With a straight face I told him that through a series of small fires
They'd all gone up in flames

[2nd Chorus]
They reviewed my case and they had no choice
But to pay me for what I'd done
And I took that check and bought a whole new box
And I smoked 'em one by one

Two weeks later this detective shows up
Tells me that company's pressin' charges
One speedy trial later they locked me up
On twenty-four separate counts of arson

[3rd Chorus]
And now I sit and I stare at a blank brick wall
Lookin' back on what I've done
To pass the time I've got some ten-cent cigars
And I smoke 'em one by one
Yeah, I smoke 'em one by one

Brad Paisley with cigar in mouth

I ain't vouching for this one

Frankly, guys, I ain't vouching for this one. This cartoon from Futurama Series that is entitled "Three Hundred Big Boys" just simply needs to be watched. It is tainted modernism. I think the moral of the story is that coffee is better than cigars, which, of course, is modernism by definition. The orthodox view is that there ain't nothing better in the world than cigars.

L'Enfant Terrible: Baby Herman

Baby Herman is Roger Rabbit's deuteragonist in the animated cartoons in which they appear together. He is Roger Rabbit's best friend. Baby Herman and Roger Rabbit appeared together in routines redolent of Abbott and Costello in the so-called "Maroon Cartoons" of the 1940s.

In the Robert Zemeckis' toon-noir, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Baby Herman's role was significantly reduced relative to the old cartoons. In one scene, however, he is tipping off Eddie about the whereabouts of Marvin Acme's will, saying that Roger didn't murder Acme. Baby Herman also appears in the first cartoon on the scene at the Acme Factory after Valiant's battle with Judge Doom.

Despite his name and appearance, "Baby Herman" is actually a middle-aged, cigar-smoking actor who happens to look like an infant, and act as one. While filming "in character," he speaks baby talk in a typical baby boy's voice provided by April Winchell. Off-camera, however, his real persona kicks in, and he has a loud, gravelly voice courtesy of the voice talents of Lou Hirsch. It is said that Richard Williams, the animation director for the film, so loved the character of "adult" Baby Herman that he personally animated those scenes in the film.

Baby Herman with Cigar

When he loses his cigar, however, Baby Herman cries like a real baby, only in the voice of an adult.

Baby Herman without cigar

I have not seen any member of the St. HOLG's cigar club cry when bereft of his cigar. But, then again, I have never seen a member of the St. HOLG's cigar club sans cigar.

That SEEGAR sure is a big'un!

What do you get if you have a lot of wood, paint, paper, and tobacco on hand, love cigars, and think big? Well, if you are the artist Roger Gober, you come up with a huge (alas, unsmokable!) cigar.

Gober was born in 1954 in the town of Wallingford, Connecticut. He studied at Middlebury College in Vermont and then at the Tyler School of Art in Rome. Currently, he lives and works in New York City and is represented by the Matthew Marks Gallery.

"Cigar" by Robert Gober

Gober is probably best known for his sculptures, particularly sinks and human legs, but he has also ventured into other areas, including photography, print-making, drawing, and other media. He has had exhibitions of his work in Europe, North America, and Japan. As Wikipedia puts it:

His work is often related to domestic and familiar objects such as sinks, doors, and legs, and has themes of nature, sexuality, religion, and politics. The sculptures are meticulously handcrafted, even when they appear to just be a re-creation of a common sink.

In his 1991 work entitled simply, "Cigar," Gober crafted a human-sized cigar. It is approximately 15 3/4 inches in diameter and 70 7/8 inches in length. "Cigar" may be found in the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, California.

"Cigar" by Robert Gober

The Existential Cigar

Kierkegaard, his vocation as a philosopher in the Socratic spirit, his belligerence against the values of the bourgeoisie, and the smoking of cigars went hand-in-hand. This is an odd mixture, since this rather unique existentialist philosopher was said to suffer from pyrophobia, fear of fire. But his fear of fire must have been overcome by his love of cigars. In fact, according to his biographer, Kierkegaard sketched himself in 1835, while still a young man, "dressed in modern attire, wearing glasses, and with a cigar in his mouth."* (Alas! I haven't been able to locate this sketch.) But perhaps it was just this unsettling aspect of the cigar, the fear and trembling that each cigar caused him, that led him to devote his life to the pursuit of philosophy, knowing that life, like a cigar, is pleasant, though, like all contingent being and contingent good, fraught with danger, and is . . . for a time only. Every cigar, like every human, has an end. And it is both the wonder of life and the concern with death that are the impetuses of philosophy. Aristotle says that wonder drives philosophy. "Philosophy," Aristotle says in his Metaphysics, "begins with wonder." Schopenhauer says that death is the "real inspiring genius or musagetes of philosophy, and for this reason Socrates defined philosophy as 'thanatos melete' (rehearsal for death)."** Cigars and cigar smoking, and life and death, then, appear to have some linkage to which Kierkegaard was attuned.

One of Kierkegaard's favorite techniques was to write under the names of aliases. Sometimes a direct link between Kierkegaard's personal life and experience and his characters can be made. In the instance of the cigar and it generating Kierkegaard's calling to be a philosopher who opposed himself particularly to the bourgeois muffling of the Christian message, we have such a link.

First, we might look at Kierkegaard's Journals. In one of his journal entries,*** Kierkegaard describes his situation this way:

It is three years now since I got the notion to try my hand at being an author. I remember it quite clearly, it was a Sunday afternoon; I sat as usual in the café in Frederiksberg Gardens and smoked my cigar.

Statue of Kierkegaard at the Frederiksberg Gardens in Copenhagen

Of this event, his biographer says the following:

Kierkegaard loved the [Frederiksberg] gardens; he often sat there absorbed in his cigar and the in the sight of the serving girls, whom he sketched masterfully in a lengthy passage in "The Seducer's Diary," wehre the girls from Nyboder take top honors because they are "buxom, voluptuous, fine-complexioned, merry, cheerful, sprighly, talkative, a bit coquettish, and above all, bareheading, wearing, at most , something as endearing as a "saucy little cap."†

But we're not here to talk about buxom girls in saucy caps, but about Kierkegaard. (The cigar, by the way, also features also in Kierkegaard's In Vino Veritas (The Banquet), but we're not here to talk about that either.)

Kiekegaard's experience documented in his Journal is elaborated under an alias, "Johannes Climacus," in one of Kierkegaard's works, where the character realized that his job was--unlike the mass of men about him whose task was to make things easy for their fellows and get rich in the process--going to be something like a neo-Socrates, "to make difficulties everywhere." Using his frequent aliases, Kierkegaard depicts himself as a certain Johannes Climacus in Concluding Unscientific Postscript as thoughtully smoke a cigar and assessing his situation. As the biographer Graff puts it:

[Kierkegaard] (alias Johannes Climacus) sat thoughtfully smoking a cigar and attempted to take stock of his situation. He was no longer quite young, he had passed the time with a bith of studies about one thing or another, but he had not been of any use to the human race. And this pained him. For he saw himself surrounded on every side by energetic people who were doing everything they could to make existence more tolerable: "Some by means of railroads; others with omnibuses and steamships; others with the telegraph; others with easily understood surveys and brief bulletins about everything worth knowing; and finally, the true benefactors of the age, who by virtue of thought make spiritual existence systematically easier and easier, yet more and more meaningful. And what about you? Her my introspection was interrupted because my cigar was finisehed and I had to light a new one."

No sooner was the cigar lit than Climacus hit on the idea that his contribuiton to the modern world could be to make everything more and more difficulty, thereby supply existence with its lost gravity.††

Søren Kierkegaard

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*Joakim Garff, Søren Kierkegaard: A Biography (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 54.
**Musagetes is an epithet of Apollo, the "leader of the muses."

***Journals and Papters, Vol. 5, 5756, VA111, n.d., 1844, p. 262.
†Garff, 304.
††Garff, 465 (internal quotes are from Concluding Unscientific Postscript.

M & M and Cigars

The title to this posting is deceiving, as it has nothing to do with candy. Rather it has to do with an artist and a poet, with Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-1898) and the painting of Mallarmé by impressionist painter Édouard Manet (1832-83). Mallarmé is a famous fin de siècle French poet whose poetic works were frequently put to music. For example, Mallarmé's poem, L'après-midi d'un faune (or The Afternoon of a Faun) was wonderfully put to music by the impressionist Claude Deubssy in the orchestral work Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune. This would be a wonderful piece to listen to while smoking a cigar by oneself.

Mallarmé had a great affinity for cigars, and it shows up not only in one of his poems, but it shows up in Manet's portrait of Mallarmé painted in 1876. I have thus conveniently combined Mallarmé's poem and Manet's portrait of Mallarmé in one posting which yields the clever title M & M and cigars, for which I pat myself on the back.

First the picture:

Edouard Manet's portrait of Stéphane Mallarmé
1876. Oil on canvas, H. 27.5; W. 36 cm © RMN (Musée d'Orsay)

Now, the poem:

Toute l’âme résumée

by the cigar-smoking Stéphane Mallarmé

(in original French)

Toute l’âme résumée
Quand lente nous l’expirons
Dans plusieurs ronds de fumée
Abolis en autres ronds

Atteste quelque cigare
Brûlant savamment pour peu
Que la cendre se sépare
De son clair baiser de feu

Ainsi le chœur des romances
A la lèvre vole-t-il
Exclus-en si tu commences
Le réel parce que vil

Le sens trop précis rature
Ta vague littérature.

(in English translation)


The whole soul encircled
In our slow exhalings
Plural rings of smoke
Vanishing in other rings

They attest to some cigar
Burning wisely while
The cinders keep apart
From the clear kiss of fire

As the choir of romance
Flies up to your smile
Keep out if you come to
The real for it's vile

To clear a sense erases
Your vague literature.

(detail)

The poem seems typically impressionistic, concerned more with feelings and less with reality, calling reality vile, and something from which one ought to separate oneself, just like one ought to separate one's impressionistic lips and smoke, from the reality of the cigar's fire. When reality gets too close to the emotion it impresses, the impressionist runs scared, for the impression is more important that the reality, which, based upon Kantian philosophy, cannot be known. Only impressions can be known, the ding an sich, the reality in itself, is unknowable. Better vague musings and impressions than hard reality.

The Physiology of the Cigar

Honoré de Balzac (1799 – 1850) was a French novelist and playwright. He is most famous for a sequence of short stories and short novels that are gathered together into a series called La Comédie humaine, The Human Comedy. Through interesting characters and situations realistically described, these attempt to describe the foibles, sins, and shortcomings of characters in France after the fall of Napoleon in 1815.


Cigars are frequently mentioned in his novels and stories, and in another post I will try to gather them up. In this post, however, I focus on a small piece that Balzac wrote on the physiology of the cigar. Unfortunately, I could not find it in English on the Internet, but only in its original French. So with a little help from Google Translate and my limited knowledge of the Romance languages, I came up with a tolerable translation of The Physiology of the Cigar.

July 1831.

THE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE CIGAR
by Honore de Balzac

"The Parisian women have only two hatreds! The toad and the smoking of tobacco."
"I would give up the most beautiful mistress rather than my cigar!"

--A Smoker.

"Smoking is traveling in one's chair."

--Lautour-Mézeray

The cigar, like a pretty woman, has its admirers, its favorites, its victims, and its critics. It seduces initially, then intoxicates, and sometimes leads by excess to make those engaged with it nuisances. We see the cigar, and we want to try it. We hesitate, but we taste it; we go back to it, and suddenly it becomes habitual. Quickly after turning over the first chapter of this activity we are introduced to its disadvantages. Every day the disadvantages are renewed, and we begin to notice it. The number of cigars consumed tends upward, and we think perhaps to get rid of habit. But by then it is too late: the use of the cigar, at first a passing fancy, quickly becomes a habit, a necessity, and, as an tyrannical master, it bullies when it ceased to charm, until at last it is sacrificed for a passion more violent than the one given up.

The cigar is a source of all sorts of personal and internal enjoyment. Similar to liquor, snuff, and opium, it it is approved by those who use it, but repels those who do not. It is this that makes smoking so difficult to give up, as smokers are continually exposed to the reproaches of those who have a different taste, and one of the great principles of our nature is to be intolerant to those who are intolerant of us.

The fact is that in countries where smoking is not a general practice, we find hundreds who shudder at the smell of the smoking of a cigar. Also, while we are on this point, one should probably smoke at home or in places dedicated for that specific purpose, and not in public promenades, where, to satisfy a selfish need, one will merely inconvenience many people, especially women, who pretty generally prefer the smell of musk to the smell of tobacco.

In all rational animals, reason ought to be guide, and man must always ensure that his motives are good. Inasmuch as man does not come into the world with a cigar in his mouth, and there is no article in any basic law to compel him to smoke a cigar, it is not, after all, absolutely necessary to adopt such a habit here, since, as everyone knows, you can smoke without a pipe. So, before deciding to take on the obligation of smoking, it takes at least some reason to justify such a strong commitment. So many people use the cigar as a remedy, to soften the toothache, or to relieve breathing problems. Let them smoke; it is all very well if they heal themselves from their maladies, if possible, and then all will be even better.

But, just like all animals are not equally reasonable, there are many who, for no reason at all, placed a cigar in their mouths, and who, not content to smell the smoke, swallow it so as to even make them sick. They throw away the little they do not steal as a result of the detriment to their health through the glares of people that do not find it amusing in the least.

For some smoking is but idleness, and, for others, to smell, maintain and especially to see the swirling smoke of a cigar is at once a subject of occupation, amusement, and admiration. What a marvel is that!

In others, such as, for example, in adolescents, smoking is a way to make these who are still young to look like men. For these latter, they would do well to give up the habit because it is a poor kind of habit where it is not customary, and they would be better served if they spent their manly energies on more useful things, and certainly on those things that are less harmful to their lungs.

It is during those rare circumstances, the only time when one ought to smoke, where there is sufficient reason to use a rare and a mild cigar in that it provides a real pleasure, but this is only if one does not become a professional smoker. It is during these moments of low morale, when the mind is numb, when the imagination refuses any activity, and the soul is cast into a melancholy mood. In just these instances where, to smoke a cigar for a moment, to breath in a few mouthfuls of smoke, results immediately, as if by magic, in the head turning on, the mind becoming clear, and a tumultuous emotions taking over and replacing one's insouciant mood, and an unknown power reviving all the faculties which before then were dormant. That is to say that the smoke, which produces the same effect as the vapors of wine, begins to operate. And it is at that time where one should stop, otherwise one may soon feel the inconvenience of being giddy.

To continue to experience the benefits of this sort of remedy, it must be rarely used, and always with moderation, since otherwise each new use will cause a loss of degree in intensity, as it eventually degenerates into a habit, and will not produce the same results.

There are certain countries, especially those which brutally high temperatures, where smoking is an activity that is performed just like eating and drinking, and it is not even unusual to see women with cigars in their mouths. In such places, all public places and public meetings are transformed into as many tobacco shops. In the theater in such countries, when the curtain falls, everyone lights his cigar, and all the lodges shine with a thousand sparks of fire started by lighters and lit cigars. During the intermission, the hall is filled with smoke. It is a discomfort not only to those who are born, live, and die in the middle of that unhealthy air which is much in need of purification. But it is even more unpleasant for foreigners who are not used to it.

I was never more surprised than when I saw the use of the cigar in Mexico during the trip that I made there. I was invited to a party at the mayor's office, at which of course the entire nobility of the city would be, so I went to observe the manners of high society. Arriving at the antechamber, I detected the smell of smoke which surprised me, astonished that even the servants are permitted to smoke and so would soon experience the inconvenience of being light-headed and giddy as if drunk before their masters.

Quickly, I made it to the ballroom. It too was filled with smoke, and it was only through a light cloud formed by the smoke that I could distinguish objects. I was witness to a very lively and very animated waltz during which the dancers were smoking, changing their cigar hand by turn with as much grace and agility so as to embrace the size of their partners. These, carried away by the ardor of the dance, the intoxicating smell of the tobacco, and the sound of instruments abandoned themselves to their male counterparts with complacency, and seemed to enjoy the luxuriously thick puffs that were thrown upon them by their gentlemen as if lances.

As proposing to waltz with a cigar to a pretty women of France or England . . .

Oh fie! Oh what horror! they would reply.

To which I can only say: "Other countries, other customs."


November 1831.


--A.M.G. (trans.)

Sometimes a cigar is just a good cigar

There is a famous quote attributed to Sigmund Freud who, of course, was an avid cigar smoker. When he was reminded by a disciple that smoking cigars was clearly a phallic activity suggesting some form of neurosis, Freud, cigar in hand, is said to have responded, "Manchmal ist eine Zigarre eben nur eine Zigarre." "Sometimes a good cigar is just a good cigar." It is alas, an undocumented attribution, but it states a truth. Si non è vero, è ben trovato as the Italians say. If it is not true, it may as well be.

"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar"

What truth is that?

We might let Françoise Meltzer, professor of religion at the University of Chicago, tell us what that truth is:

The anecdote demonstrates, it seems to me, a problematic central to psychoanalysis: the discipline which insists on transference and, perhaps even more significantly, on displacement as fundamental principles, ultimately must insist in turn on seeing everything as being "really" something else. Such an ideology or metamorphosis is so much taken for granted that unlike the rest of the world, which generally has difficulty in being convinced that a pipe, for example, is not necessarily a pipe at all, psychoanalysis needs at times to remind itself, in a type of return to an adaequatio,* that it is possible for a cigar really to be a cigar.

Ceci n'est pas un cigare

"This is not a cigar"

In other words, sometimes things really are as they seem. Sometimes common sense wins out. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. So, pace Freud, and pace Magritte, who both suffer from the epistemological "turn" ushered in by René Descartes and which brought us to modernity and its denial of reality or of the ability to understand it (e.g., Kant), perhaps we ought to maintain our sanity and, with St. Thomas return to a moderate realism. Things are, and they are true, and through our senses and our minds we are able to participate in that truth of that which is. It behooves us, for example, to read Josef Pieper or James Schall.

So it's not just that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. It is the fact that always, a cigar is a cigar, nothing more, nothing less.
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*A reference to the scholastic axiom of the link between reality and the mind: the concept in the mind corresponds to reality outside of it: adaequatio rei et intellectus.

The Cigar in a State of Grace

René François Magritte painted his infamous painting of a pipe, of which we wrote in a prior posting. We ragged the Belgian artist around a bit on his choice of a pipe, rather than cigar, in his La trahison des images, the Treachery of Images. Ceci n'est pas une pipe would have been better rendered Ceci n'est pas un cigare for the reasons given in that posting.

But Magritte was not entirely pro-pipe. In fact, the cigar was featured in another of his famous paintings, one called L'état de grâce, The State of Grace. It is composed of a simple gray bicycle atop a lit cigar (or is it a lit cigar below a bicycle?). (Does it make a difference whether the bicycle is atop the cigar or the cigar below the bicycle?) In doing a little research I found a letter from Magritte that helps answer this specific question. According to a letter to Andre Bosmans dated October 23, 1959, Magritte was not inspired by the bicycle, and it is unclear whether or not the cigar inspired him; what he said is that he was inspired, and from that inspiration he derived the "subject to be painted: a bicycle on a cigar." It is therefore--from the artist's own hand--a bicycle on a cigar, and not a cigar below a bicycle, but it's still unclear whether he was inspired before any cigar, or was inspired by the cigar, and if not the cigar, then what inspired him. Personally, I thought the painting was a marvelous depiction of a cigar below a bicycle, but it is a horrible depiction of a bike above a cigar. But I do not know much about art.

There is, of course, another issue which does not yield a ready answer: there is an obvious disproportion between the bicycle and the cigar, and the question then is: which figure is disproportionate? Is the bike painted small, and the cigar normal size? Or are we to regard the bike as normal, and the cigar overly-inflated? Or--banish the thought--is the bike smaller and the cigar larger simultaneously so that there is nothing here to scale? We only know that they are relatively presented in different scales. Either way the bike and cigar appear to suspend, as if we were looking at a bike on a smoking blimp.

Magritte observed in another letter, this one to Suzi Gablik, that he was contemplating painting a bicycle, and then as if obiter dicta, he mentioned that "a bike sometimes runs over a cigar down in the street." This is an odd thing by which to get inspired. But I will admit it is probably more likely to get inspired by a bike riding over a cigar, then a cigar riding over a bicycle, just because the probabilities of seeing the latter are so low.

Magritte's L'état de grâce

It is hard to tell, but the cigar band has a picture of an owl on it, at least that's what I read somewhere. I don't see the owl. It did do some quick-and-dirty research on cigars with owls in their brand names. There are such things as "White Owl Cigars," but they are very cheap, and not something a Belgian would deign to paint. There area also Buho brand cigars (Buho is "owl" in Spanish), but this brand is not old enough to have been around during Magritte's time. We probably will never know what brand cigar Magritte had in mind.

But there is something a little more ominous about the painting: Why would Magritte have called the painting "The State of Grace"? The state of grace is a theological term, and it seems that whatever "inspiration" Magritte had it was not anything that pertained to the theological concept of "state of grace." Methinks Magritte may have been naturalizing or emotivizing, and certainly deprecating, the notion of sanctifying grace.

Now I can see how a cigar may be a vehicle of actual grace, but that is an entirely different thing that sanctifying grace.

Ceci n'est pas un cigare

The Belgian artist René François Ghislain Magritte (1898-1967) was famous for his surrealist paintings, in particular those that seemed to challenge or at least ask questions about reality. One of his frequent techniques was to place familiar objects in unusual contexts. Contrary to another surrealist, Salvadore Dali, Magritte's purpose was not to shock or disgust, but rather to evoke the sense of mystery, of mystère. But Magritte's brain was a little muddled in that he spent much time mulling over the likes of Hegel, Heidegger, Sartre, Saussure, and Foucault. He might have been better served by reading Aristotle and St. Thomas and learned about the sanity of a philosophy of moderate realism.


Perhaps one of his best-known works is The Treachery of Images (La trahison des images). It shows a realistic depiction of a standard pipe, but below it, in writing which looks like that of a schoolboy's hand, he put, "Ceci n'est pas une pipe," which means (in French) "This is not a pipe." (In French, by the way, "pipe" is pronounced something like "peep," which makes it fun to say. A sentence like "I've got a pipe in my pants," becomes quite humorous if the word pipe is pronounced like the French would pronounce it. But I'm straying. Muhammad once condemned a man to hell because he had peep in his pants. But now I'm really straying.)

The painting is obviously meant to get us to think about the relationship between reality and concept and the representation of that concept, either in painting or in language. To get to the point, of course, there is truth and there is untruth in the statement "This is not a pipe" because it is ambiguous. Magritte insisted that had he written, "Ceci une pipe," "This is a pipe," below his depiction of the pipe, he would have been lying. But would he? If, before this discussion, I held out a picture of a pipe before you and asked you, "What is this?" You might have answered, "Why, it is a pipe," and you would not really be lying. You would of course would not be lying because you would be referring to the concept that is behind the painting. You would know that it is only a painting of a pipe, but you would know that it was communicating the concept of "pipe." Some things, however, are unexpressed: hence the ambiguity.

The problem, as I said, is one of ambiguity. It is unambiguously a problem of ambiguity. For one, what does the work "This" refer to? The painting? The painting of the pipe? The concept behind the painting? The sentence? The pipe that was the model for Magritte? What does "a pipe" refer to? A particular pipe, the "universal" or abstracted concept of a "pipe" or "pipeness," or the representation of a pipe? (We have been enlightened since Magritte's time, by that great mind and philosopher from Hope, Arkansas. We now know the copula "is" can mean some many things. To the ambiguity of "this" and "pipe" we can also ask, "It depends what you mean by 'is'?")

What, by the way, ties the sentence to the painting? If the sentence below the pipe had read, "Ceci n'est pas une piment," this is not a pepper, we would not even be able to have this discussion, because it would be true on all grounds: all the ambiguity is gone. But if the painting had read "Ceci n'est pas un piment" and had a painting of a pepper, the ambiguity is all in again.


Literally speaking, the painting of a pipe in Magritte's painting is not an actual pipe, a pipe in the concrete. This, of course, everyone knows. It is a representation of a pipe, and bears within it the ability to communicate the concept of a pipe, and perhaps even an individual pipe that lay before Magritte as he painted it. Thus the painting may encapsulate in representational form, both a concrete pipe and the concept, the abstracted idea of what a pipe is, of "pipeness." Conceptually speaking, however, the representation of a pipe does grasp in some way the concept of a pipe, even perhaps the individual characteristics of a particular pipe, and so it is false to say that the painting does not express, in some way, the concept of a pipe, the idea of what "pipeness" is, or even the whatness of a particular, concrete pipe. There is something of "pipeness" in the painting, maybe even the "pipeness" as expressed in one particular pipe that Magritte had before him that is communicated from the pipe, to Magritte's brain, back onto the canvas, even into the words "pipe," and from the canvas into our own brains, where we recognize the abstract concept "pipe" based upon our own experiences with pipes.

If we did not know what a concept of a pipe was, if we had no idea of what "pipeness" was, and if we did not have the ability to separate concepts or ideal objects from concrete objects or representation of concrete objects, then it would be impossible to know that a painted pipe is not a pipe. But obviously we see that a painting of a pipe has "pipeness" in it, just like an actual concrete pipe does, or just like the idea of a pipe in our own minds, or the the idea of a pipe in Magritte's own mind. Otherwise, we would not be able to be speaking of concrete, individualized pipes, paintings of pipes, and concepts of pipes or "pipeness." Indeed, we would not be able to even understand what the word "pipe" (whether pronounced "peep" or "pype") means.

It's all rather interesting, and it drove that erratic but brilliant Michel Foucault to write a monograph on it in 1968 (expanded in 1973) which (predictably) is entitled Ceci n'est pas un pipe. The work has been translated into English as This is Not a Pipe. It is almost ninety or so pages of ramblings, some of which makes sense, some of which does not. None of which is very important, and it is difficult to believe that the world is a better place for Foucault having written it. Did one person become better for reading it? Did one person come closer to truth for reading it? That is doubtful. I have looked at Foucault's work on Google books, and it is full of all sorts of interesting thoughts, including the concept of "calligram," which seem to dissipate as if they were so much smoke coming from a pipe. I wonder if it is my weak mind, but then I remember, that this is Foucault I'm reading. I'm not a better human for having glanced at it, but perhaps I need to mediate upon that.

Magritte got so much mileage off of his first painting that he painted a second which adds even more complexities, including perhaps a critique of Platonic or Hegelian notions of Idealism. I will not address those, as I already have said too much.


Anyway, what does Magritte's painting have to do with cigars? We are a cigar club, not a pipe club. Well, Magritte's selection of a pipe ("peep") betrays a hidden ambiguity which even the brilliant Foucault missed. The ambiguity is not one of painting or of the written language, but is one relating to the homphonic identity of "pipe" (pronounced "peep") and peep (pronounced "peep").


For that matter, there is a further ambiguity arising from the homophonic quality of the French "pipes" (peeps) and the famous if scurrilous diarist Samuel Pepys (pronounced, "peeps"). There are many pipes, but only one Pepys. But that aside, we can still have fun with the not ver savory Mr. Pepys. Others have observed this and have made a joke about it:


This homophonic ambiguity is disastrous, sloppy, problematic. It is a philosophical and artist faux pas. Had Magritte been thinking, he would not have painted a pipe, and he would avoided the homophonic ambiguity with "peep" and "Pepys." A clear thinker would have chosen a cigar, as a cigar suffers from no such pipe/peep/Pepys homophonic problem. A cigar is a cigar: there is no homophonic problem.*

It was very short-sighted of this artist. Even Homer nods. Magritte stumbled. I have therefore scoured the internet and found some folks who realized Magritte's lapse, and so I offer the club a modified version of Magritte's visual conundrum: Ceci n'est pas un cigare and (for the Spanish speakers) a version in Spanish, Esto no es un cigarro. These paintings are philosophically superior to Ceci n'est pas une pipe. Moreover, it makes me want to smoke a cigar.

One last thing. Magritte stumbled. But he did not do so because of a bias against cigars. Indeed, he painted a painting of a cigar below a bike in a painting entitled L'état de grâce, "The State of Grace." We'll get to that in our next posting.

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*There is a charter boat called "Sea-Gar" which might present a problem. But it did not exist in Magritte's time.

Sancte Pie Decime Fuma Pro Nobis

Here is a tribute to our patron, Pope St. Pius X:



The words are:
Sancte Pie Decime, gloriose patrone, ora pro nobis.
Saint Pius X, glorious patron, pray for us.

The Naked Beauty of Cigars

Ah, perhaps the title "naked beauty of cigars" misled you? We are not talking about "naked beauties" and cigars, but the naked beauty of cigars. The topic of this post is not some titillating topic, but rather Lord Byron's poem, "The Island," where he describes the naked benefit, the nudum beneficium, of cigars: so close are they to nature itself, without any mechanical or technical intermediaries or accoutrements, "clothing" as it were, such as we find in pipe or hooka, which interfere, or at least intermediate, with the natural enjoyment of the tobacco. In a cigar, the tobacco stains the hand, the lip: there is no "middle-man" between the tobacco and the smoke. We come into contact with the tobacco's flesh, even its very veins. Smoking cigars is, for Byron and for the aficionado, the enjoyment of tobacco in the most intimate way.

"The Island"
by Lord Byron
Canto II.xix.*

Sublime tobacco! which from east to west
Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest;
Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides
His hours, and rivals opium and his brides;
Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand,
Though not less loved in Wapping or the Strand;
Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe,
When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress.
Yet thy true lovers more admire, by far,
Thy naked beauties--give me a cigar!

Cigar manufacturers, of course, seized on such language, and, before long, Lord Byron--in addition to all the other things he symbolized, many of which do not become a Christian man--became a symbol of the art and the beauty of smoking a cigar. So Lord Byron appeared on books about tobacco, obtained his own cigar brand, and appeared on cigar bands or vitolas.

Lord Byron on Cigar Vitola

Lord Byron-Brand Cigars

Lord Byron puffing on a "naked beauty"
"Give me a Cigar!"

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*"tar" is slang for sailor; "Stamboul" is a variant of Istanbul, capital of Turkey; "Wapping" is a place in London close to the docks by the River Thames, at the time a lower class area; "Strand" refers to a location in London which, during Victorian England, was a fashionable address.