Chapter 9

Female Smoking in Algiers.

"There is one difficulty here, however, for the artist—that of finding satisfactory models. You can get one at last, and here is her portrait. Her costume, when she throws off her haik (and with it a tradition of the Mohammedan faith, that forbids her to show her face to an unbeliever), is a rich, loose, crimson jacket embroidered with gold, a thin white bodice, loose silk trousers reaching to the knee and fastened round the waist by a magnificent sash of various colors, red morocco slippers, a profusion of rings on her little fingers, and bracelets and anklets of gold filagree work. Through her waving black hair are twined strings of coins and the folds of a silk handkerchief, the hair falling at the back in plaits below the waist. She is not beautiful, she is scarcely interesting in expression, and she is decidedly unsteady. She seems to have no more power of keeping herself in one position or of remaining in one part of the room, or even of being quiet, than a humming-top. The whole thing is an unutterable bore to her, for she does not even reap the reward—her father, or husband, or other male attendant always taking the money. She is petite, constitutionally phlegmatic, and as fat as her parents can manage to make her; she has smallhands and feet, large rolling eyes—the latter made to appear artificially large by the application of henna or antimony black; her attitudes are not ungraceful, but there is a want of character about her, and an utter abandonment to the situation, peculiar to all her race. In short, her movements are more suggestive of a little caged animal that had better be petted and caressed, or kept at a safe distance, according to her humor. She does one thing—she smokes incessantly, and makes cigarettes with a skill and rapidity which are wonderful. Her age is thirteen, and she has been married six months; her ideas appear to be limited to three or four, and her pleasures, poor creature, are equally circumscribed. She had scarcely ever left her father's house, and had never spoken to a man until her marriage. There seems to be in the Moorish nature a wonderful sense of harmony and contrasts of color. Two Orientals will hardly walk down a street side by side unless the colors of their costumes harmonize. You find a negress selling oranges or citrons; an Arab boy with red fez and white turban, carrying purple fruit in a basket of leaves—always the right juxtaposition of colors. The sky furnishes them a superb background of deep blue, and the repose of these solemn Orientals, who sit here like bronze statues, save that they smoke incessantly, inspires you with a curious respect. They are men who believe in fate—what need that they should make haste?"

In Africa the pipes are made of clay and horn, and are mostly rude affairs, but well suited to their ideas of implements used for holding tobacco. King gives the following description of smoking among them:—

"A party of headmen and older warriors, seated cross-legged in their tents, ceremoniously smoked the daghapipe, a kind of hookah, made of bullock's horn, its downward point filled with water, and a reed stem let into the side, surmounted by a rough bowl of stone, which is filled with the dagha, a species of hemp, very nearly, if not the same, as the Indian bang. Each individual receives it in turn, opens his jaws to their full extent, and placing his lips to the wide mouth of the horn, takes a few pulls and passes it on. Retaining the last draught of smoke in his mouth, which he fills with a decoction of bark and water from a calabash, he squirts it on the ground by his side through a long ornamented tube in his left hand, performing thereon, by the aid of a reserved portion of the liquid, a sort of boatswain's whistle,complacently regarding the soap-like bubbles, the joint production of himself and neighbor. It appeared to be a sign of special friendliness and kindly feeling to squirt into the same hole."

African Pipe.

We give an engraving of a kind of pipe used by the natives of interior Africa. It is made of clay, and holds but a small portion of the weed. The natives are great smokers and indulge in it almost constantly, but their love for it can hardly exceed that of the more hardy Laplanders, who are described as "passionately fond of the plant." Nothing is so indispensable as tobacco to their existence. A Laplander who cannot get Tobacco sucks chips of a barrel or pieces of anything else which has contained it. Tobacco gives the Laplanders a pleasure which often rises to ecstacy. They both chew and smoke, and they are certainly the dirtiest chewers in the world. When they chew they spit in their hands, then raise them to their nose that they may inhale from the saliva the irritating principles of the plant. Thus they satisfy two senses at the same time. They regularly smoke after their meals. If their supply of Tobacco falls short, they sit down in a circle and pass the pipe round, so that every one in his turn may have a whiff.[53]

"A Painter's Camp in the Highlands" defends the custom of smoking in the following well chosen words:

"People who don't smoke—especially ladies—are exceedingly unfair and unjust to those who do. The reader has, I daresay, amongst his acquaintances ladies who, on hearing any habitual cigar-smoker spoken of, are always ready to exclaim against the enormity of such an expensive and useless indulgence; and the cost of Tobacco-smoking is generally cited by its enemies as one of the strongest reasons for its general discontinuance. One would imagine, to hear thesepeople talk, that smoking was the only selfish indulgence in the world. When people argue in this strain, I immediately assume the offensive. I roll back the tide of war right into the enemy's intrenched camp of comfortable customs; I attack the expensive and unnecessary indulgences of ladies and gentlemen who do not smoke. I take cigar-smoking as an expense of, say, half-a-crown a-day, and pipe-smoking at threepence."I then compare the cost of these indulgences with the cost of other indulgences not a whit more necessary, which no one ever questions a man's right to if he can pay for them. There is luxurious eating, for instance. A woman who has got the habit of delicate eating will easily consume dainties to the amount of half-a-crown a-day, which cannot possibly do her any good beyond the mere gratification of the palate. And there is the luxury of carriage-keeping, in many instances very detrimental to the health of women, by entirely depriving them of the use of their legs. Now, you cannot keep a carriage a-going quite as cheaply as a pipe. Many a fine meerschaum keeps up its cheerful fire on a shilling a-week. I am not advocating a sumptuary law to put down carriages and cookery; I desire only to say that people who indulge in these expensive and wholly superfluous luxuries, have no right to be so hard on smokers for their indulgence."Nearly every gentleman who drinks good wine at all will drink the value of half-a-crown a-day. The ladies do not blame him for this. Half-a-dozen glasses of good wine are not thought an extravagance in any man of fair means, but women exclaim when a man spends the same amount in smoking cigars. The French habit of coffee-drinking and the English habit of tea-drinking are also cases in point. They are quite as expensive as ordinary Tobacco-smoking, and, like it, defensible only on the ground of the pleasurable sensation they communicate to the nervous system. But these habits are so universal that no one thinks of attacking them, unless now and then some persecuted smoker in self-defence."Tea and tobacco are alike seductive, delicious, and deleterious. The two indulgences will, perhaps, become equally necessary to the English world. It is high treason to the English national feeling to say a word against tea, which is now so universally recognized as a national beverage that people forget it comes from China, and that it is both alienand heathen. Still, I mean no offence when I put tea in the same category with Tobacco. Now, who thinks of lecturing us on the costliness of tea? And yet it is a mere superfluity. The habit of taking it as we do is unknown across the Channel, and was quite unknown amongst ourselves a very little time ago, when English people were no less proud of themselves and their customs than they are now, and perhaps with equally good reason. A friend of mine tells me that he smokes every day, at a cost of about sixpence a-week. Now, I would like to know in what other way so much enjoyment is to be bought for sixpence. Fancy the satisfaction of spending sixpence a-week in wine! It is well enough to preach about the selfishness of this expenditure; but we all spend more selfishly, and we all love pleasure, and I should very much like to see that cynic whose pleasures cost less than sixpence a-week."

"I then compare the cost of these indulgences with the cost of other indulgences not a whit more necessary, which no one ever questions a man's right to if he can pay for them. There is luxurious eating, for instance. A woman who has got the habit of delicate eating will easily consume dainties to the amount of half-a-crown a-day, which cannot possibly do her any good beyond the mere gratification of the palate. And there is the luxury of carriage-keeping, in many instances very detrimental to the health of women, by entirely depriving them of the use of their legs. Now, you cannot keep a carriage a-going quite as cheaply as a pipe. Many a fine meerschaum keeps up its cheerful fire on a shilling a-week. I am not advocating a sumptuary law to put down carriages and cookery; I desire only to say that people who indulge in these expensive and wholly superfluous luxuries, have no right to be so hard on smokers for their indulgence.

"Nearly every gentleman who drinks good wine at all will drink the value of half-a-crown a-day. The ladies do not blame him for this. Half-a-dozen glasses of good wine are not thought an extravagance in any man of fair means, but women exclaim when a man spends the same amount in smoking cigars. The French habit of coffee-drinking and the English habit of tea-drinking are also cases in point. They are quite as expensive as ordinary Tobacco-smoking, and, like it, defensible only on the ground of the pleasurable sensation they communicate to the nervous system. But these habits are so universal that no one thinks of attacking them, unless now and then some persecuted smoker in self-defence.

"Tea and tobacco are alike seductive, delicious, and deleterious. The two indulgences will, perhaps, become equally necessary to the English world. It is high treason to the English national feeling to say a word against tea, which is now so universally recognized as a national beverage that people forget it comes from China, and that it is both alienand heathen. Still, I mean no offence when I put tea in the same category with Tobacco. Now, who thinks of lecturing us on the costliness of tea? And yet it is a mere superfluity. The habit of taking it as we do is unknown across the Channel, and was quite unknown amongst ourselves a very little time ago, when English people were no less proud of themselves and their customs than they are now, and perhaps with equally good reason. A friend of mine tells me that he smokes every day, at a cost of about sixpence a-week. Now, I would like to know in what other way so much enjoyment is to be bought for sixpence. Fancy the satisfaction of spending sixpence a-week in wine! It is well enough to preach about the selfishness of this expenditure; but we all spend more selfishly, and we all love pleasure, and I should very much like to see that cynic whose pleasures cost less than sixpence a-week."

Egyptian Pipes.

The Egyptian pipes, especially those of modern date are exceedingly fanciful in shape and resemble somewhat the pipes used by the Persians. Many of them are made of clay and are sold very cheap.[54]The Chinese use a variety of pipes but all of them have small bowls for the tobacco. Some of their pipes are made of brass and attached to the pipe is a receptacle for water, so as to cool the smoke before it passes into the mouth. The Japanese use both copper and silver pipes, most of them similar in shape and size to those used by the Chinese.

Japanese Pipes.

A writer says of smoking among the Japanese:

"Let us sit down to a good Japanese dinner—down on the floor. Food on the floor. Fire and cigars or pipes on the floor. Sit on your heels, waiting. Enter first course—Fish-skin soup. Smoke. Third—Fish, cake and bean-cheese. Smoke. Fourth—Row fish and horse-radish. Smoke. Fifth—Broiled fish. Smoke again, Sixth—Custard soup. Smoke. Seventh—Chicken stew, turnips and onions. Smoke a little. Eighth—Cuttle-fish, wafer cakes, Nipon tea. Here, if tired you can stop at the end of about two hours' ankle-ache. All is cleanly, well spiced with talk, and served with the utmost politeness. Sipping tea may be substituted for the infinitesimal whiffs of polite smoking. A grand dinner is much more elaborate; at least, so far as the variety of smokes is concerned. After dinner, rest and smoke."

An English writer could very appropriately call this a cloud of smoke as he has another scene herein described.

"'Tis all smoke, possibly, but what cannot we discern, through a cloud of smoke? Objects dim, but

'Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooksIn Vallambrosa.'

Be the medium of the smoke an honest 'churchwarden,' a short clay, or a costly meerschaum; does the smoke emanate from a refined Havana, a neat Manilla, or a dainty cigarette, such as we are at this moment enjoying as a sequel to a modest breakfast, 'tis all smoke."

We have thus given a somewhat lengthy description of the custom and implements used in smoking, from the first discovery of the plant until now, and turn to other implements used in connection with the pipe. We, however, give the following from Cop's "Tobacco Plant," descriptive of the part played by tobacco on the stage two centuries ago:

"The 'Return from Parnassus' was published anonymously, and the copy I have used is dateless. It was 'publicly acted by the students of St. John's College in Cambridge.' In Act I., Scene 2d, characters are given of Spenser, Ben Jonson, Marlow, Drayton, Marston and Shakespeare, together with some other of the known poets and dramatistsof the Elizabethan age. It contains many references to tobacco. In 'Act IV., Scene 1st,' the characters are thus placed: 'Sir Rodericke and Prodigo at one corner of the stage, Recorder and Amaretto at the other. Two pages scouring of Tobacco pipes.' Actual smoking from tobacco-pipes was introduced on the stage afterwards; and instances from the early dramas have been given by the writers on tobacco history. In the second scene of Act III. smoking is alluded to as one of the marks of the current man of fashion, and is coupled with that of wearing love-locks, which was to prove such a scandal to the Puritans. 'He gins to follow fashions. He wore thin sireduelt in a smooky roofe, must take tobacco and must weare a locke.' 'Work for Chimney Sweepers, or a Warning against Tobacconists, by J. H.,' was published in quarto in the year 1602."It was answered in the same year by the anonymous 'Defence of Tobacco,' a quarto of seventy pages. The author of the attack followed the line of King James, or, I should rather say, showed him the line to take, for the King's 'Counterblast' did not appear until he had been King of England for some years. The book is divided into sections, each section being called 'A Reason.' The seventh 'Reason' against the use of tobacco is, that the devil is the discoverer and suggester of smoking. 'It was first used and practised,' says J. H., 'by devils, priests, and, therefore, not to be used by us Christians. That the devil was the first author hereof. Monardus, in his 'Treatise of Tabaco,' dooth sufficiently witnesse, saying: The Indian priests, who, no doubt, were instruments of the devil, whom they serve, even before they answer to questions propounded to them by their princes, drinke of this tobacco-fume, with the vigour and strength whereof they fall suddenly to the ground as dead men, remaining so according to the quantity of smoke that they had taken. And when the hearbe hath done his worke, they revive and wake, giving answers according to the vissions and illusions which they saw while they were wrapt in that order.' It is not unlikely that J. H.'s authority had confused opium with tobacco."It was the opinion of the age that every Pagan deity had a real existence in the world of evil spirits. After further quotations of Monardus, to prove that the devil is 'the author of Tobacco, and of the knowledge thereof,' J. H. concludes his seventh reason by declaring, 'Wherefore in mine opinion this practice is more to be excluded of usChristians, who follow Veritie and Truth, and detest and abhor the devil as a lyar and deceiver of mankind.' In the first year of this century, pipes were not only exhibited, but were used upon the stage. They seem at first to have been smoked, not during 'the induction.' In the induction to Ben Jonson's 'Cynthia's Revels' (1601), the Third Child says: 'Now, sir, suppose I am one of your genteel auditors, that am come in, having paid my money at the door, with much ado; and here take my place, and sit down, I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket, my light by me, and thus I begin.' The Third Child thereupon smokes; but it seems as if the smoking on the stage was a kind of protest against a prior smoking in the pit. In John Webster's 'Malcontent,' as augmented by John Marston in 1604, Sly says in the introduction: 'Come, coose, (coz or goose!) let's take some tobacco.'"In 'The Puritan, or the Widow of Watling Street,' published in 1607, and attributed by some to Shakespeare, tobacco-taking or tobacco-drinking (as smoking was then usually called) appears no longer in the induction, but in the play itself, Idle, the highwayman, says to the old soldier, Skirmish, 'Have you any tobacco about you?' Idle being supplied, smokes a pipe on the stage. These extracts, however, may have been cited before, together with others of like character in the great days of the English Drama. Pipes continued to appear upon the stage until its abolition (in company with the Prayer Book) by the Puritan rulers. They reappeared on the stage of the Restoration. In Thomas Shadwell's 'Virtuos' (1676),—to take one instance,—Mirando and Clarinda fling away Snarl's cane, hat and periwig, and break his pipes, because he 'takes nasty tobacco before ladies.'"

"It was answered in the same year by the anonymous 'Defence of Tobacco,' a quarto of seventy pages. The author of the attack followed the line of King James, or, I should rather say, showed him the line to take, for the King's 'Counterblast' did not appear until he had been King of England for some years. The book is divided into sections, each section being called 'A Reason.' The seventh 'Reason' against the use of tobacco is, that the devil is the discoverer and suggester of smoking. 'It was first used and practised,' says J. H., 'by devils, priests, and, therefore, not to be used by us Christians. That the devil was the first author hereof. Monardus, in his 'Treatise of Tabaco,' dooth sufficiently witnesse, saying: The Indian priests, who, no doubt, were instruments of the devil, whom they serve, even before they answer to questions propounded to them by their princes, drinke of this tobacco-fume, with the vigour and strength whereof they fall suddenly to the ground as dead men, remaining so according to the quantity of smoke that they had taken. And when the hearbe hath done his worke, they revive and wake, giving answers according to the vissions and illusions which they saw while they were wrapt in that order.' It is not unlikely that J. H.'s authority had confused opium with tobacco.

"It was the opinion of the age that every Pagan deity had a real existence in the world of evil spirits. After further quotations of Monardus, to prove that the devil is 'the author of Tobacco, and of the knowledge thereof,' J. H. concludes his seventh reason by declaring, 'Wherefore in mine opinion this practice is more to be excluded of usChristians, who follow Veritie and Truth, and detest and abhor the devil as a lyar and deceiver of mankind.' In the first year of this century, pipes were not only exhibited, but were used upon the stage. They seem at first to have been smoked, not during 'the induction.' In the induction to Ben Jonson's 'Cynthia's Revels' (1601), the Third Child says: 'Now, sir, suppose I am one of your genteel auditors, that am come in, having paid my money at the door, with much ado; and here take my place, and sit down, I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket, my light by me, and thus I begin.' The Third Child thereupon smokes; but it seems as if the smoking on the stage was a kind of protest against a prior smoking in the pit. In John Webster's 'Malcontent,' as augmented by John Marston in 1604, Sly says in the introduction: 'Come, coose, (coz or goose!) let's take some tobacco.'

"In 'The Puritan, or the Widow of Watling Street,' published in 1607, and attributed by some to Shakespeare, tobacco-taking or tobacco-drinking (as smoking was then usually called) appears no longer in the induction, but in the play itself, Idle, the highwayman, says to the old soldier, Skirmish, 'Have you any tobacco about you?' Idle being supplied, smokes a pipe on the stage. These extracts, however, may have been cited before, together with others of like character in the great days of the English Drama. Pipes continued to appear upon the stage until its abolition (in company with the Prayer Book) by the Puritan rulers. They reappeared on the stage of the Restoration. In Thomas Shadwell's 'Virtuos' (1676),—to take one instance,—Mirando and Clarinda fling away Snarl's cane, hat and periwig, and break his pipes, because he 'takes nasty tobacco before ladies.'"

There is printed evidence, however, in this same period to show not only that all the English ladies of the time were not enemies to tobacco, but that some of them were themselves smokers. In 1674 an anonymous quarto appeared under the title of "The Women's Petition against Coffee." It was a protest against the growing influence of the coffee-houses in seducing men away from their homes to sit together making mischief and drinking "this boiled soot." It was answered in the same year by "The Men's Answer to the Women's Petition." After speaking of the providentialintroduction of coffee into England in the midst of the Puritan epoch, when Englishmen wanted some kind of drink which would "at once make them sober and merry," the writer glorifies the coffee-house.

John Taylor, "the Water Poet," made a kind of compromise when he attributed the introduction of tobacco, not to the devil, but to Pluto,—"Pluto's Proclamation concerning his Infernal Pleasure for the Propagation of Tobacco." It appears in the folio collection of his works of the year 1628. The confusion of tobacco with opium and such destructive drugs seems to have been common with the travelers of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth centuries. Camerarius, in his "Historical Meditations," translated into English by John Malle (folio, 1621), speaks of tobacco as to be seen growing in many gardens throughout Europe. He quotes Jerome Benzo as saying that in Hispaniola "there be among them some that take so much of it, as their senses being all overcome and made drunke with the same, they fell down flat to the ground as if they were dead, and there lie without sense or feeling most part of the day or of the night."

The tobacco-box, during the reign of Elizabeth, was no unimportant part of a dandy's outfit; sometimes a pouch or bag was used. Tobacco-boxes came into general use in England soon after the introduction of tobacco, and were much sought after by all who "drank" tobacco. Marston, the Duke of New Castle, and other dramatists, alluded to the tobacco-box as a part of the smoker's outfit; thus in the play of "The Man in the Moone" (1609), one character, in answer to an inquiry who one of the company is, answers: "I know not certainly, but I think he cometh to play you a fit of mirth, for I behelde pipes in his pocket; now he draweth forth his tinder-box and his touchwood, and falleth to his tacklings; sure his throate is on fire, the smoke flyeth so fast from his mouth; blesse his beard with a bason of water, lest he burn it; some terrible thing he taketh, it maketh him pant and look pale, and hath an odious taste, he spitteth so after it."

The tobacco boxes of the Seventeenth Century were much larger than those of the present. Some of them held a pound of tobacco besides space for a number of pipes.

Many of them were made of brass while others were fashioned from horn:

"There is also a simple and ingenious tobacco-box used frequently in ale-houses, 'which keeps its own account,' with each smoker and acts also as a money-box. It is kept on parlor tables for the use of all comers; but none can obtain a pipe-full, till the money is deposited through a hole in the lid. A penny dropped in, causes a bolt to unfasten, and allow the smoker to help himself from a drawer full of tobacco. His honor is trusted so far as not to take more than his pipe-full, and he is reminded of it by a verse engraved on the lid:—

'The custom is, before you fill,'To put a penny in the till.'"

Engraved Boxes.

Some of the tobacco boxes were made of silver and beautifully engraved with fancy sketches, historical scenes, or representations of personages, landscapes, flowers, etc. The late Duke of Sussex had a large collection of pipes and tobacco boxes.

A journal describing them says of the collection:

"The Duke of Sussex had a wonderful collection of these, the values attached to some of them being almost fabulous. One example from the work-shop of Vienna—long celebrated for this description of art,—represented the combat of Hector and Achilles, the cover of the pipe being a golden hemlet cristatus of the Grecian type."

Swiss and Tyrolean artistsalso produce exquisite carving, but use wood as a material; and in the famous collection of Baron de Watteville will be found a marvelous piece of carving representing Bellerophon overturning the Chimera. But French pipes are the most interesting of all to collectors, from the fact that tobacco was introduced into that country long before it was known in England, and also from the ingenuity of a people who can give interest of various kinds to what might seem a simple and prosaic branch of manufacture. In the sentiment of the following lines on "A pipe of Tobacco" by John Usher, all lovers of the plant will heartily join:

"Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale,Or with alcohol moisten his thropple,Only give me I pray, a good pipe of soft clay,Nicely tapered, and thin in the stopple;And I shall puff, puff, let who will say enough,No luxury else I'm in lack o',No malice I hoard, 'gainst Queen, Prince, Duke or Lord,While I pull at my pipe of Tobacco."When I feel the hot strife of the battle of life,And the prospect is aught but enticin',Mayhap some real ill like a protested bill,Dims the sunshine that tinged the horizon;Only let me puff, puff,—be they ever so rough,All the sorrows of life I lose track o',The mists disappear, and the vista is clear,With a soothing mild pipe of Tobacco."And when joy after pain, like the sun after rain,Stills the waters, long turbid and troubled,That life's current may flow, with a ruddier glow,And the sense of enjoyment be doubled,—Oh! let me puff, puff, till I feelquantum suff,Such luxury still I'm in lack o',Be joy ever so sweet, it would be incomplete,Without a good pipe of tobacco."Should my recreant muse,—Sometimes apt to refuseThe guidance of bit and of bridle,Still blankly demur, spite of whip and of spur,Unimpassioned, inconstant, or idle;Only let me puff, puff, till the brain cries enough,Such excitement is all I'm in lack o',And the poetic vein soon to fancy gives reign,Inspired by a pipe of Tobacco."And when with one accord, round the jovial board,In friendship our bosoms are glowing;While with toast and with song we the evening prolong,And with nectar the goblets are flowing;Still let us puff, puff—be life smooth, be it rough,Such enjoyment we're ever in lack o';The more peace and goodwill will abound as we fillA jolly good pipe of Tobacco."

"When I feel the hot strife of the battle of life,And the prospect is aught but enticin',Mayhap some real ill like a protested bill,Dims the sunshine that tinged the horizon;Only let me puff, puff,—be they ever so rough,All the sorrows of life I lose track o',The mists disappear, and the vista is clear,With a soothing mild pipe of Tobacco.

"And when joy after pain, like the sun after rain,Stills the waters, long turbid and troubled,That life's current may flow, with a ruddier glow,And the sense of enjoyment be doubled,—Oh! let me puff, puff, till I feelquantum suff,Such luxury still I'm in lack o',Be joy ever so sweet, it would be incomplete,Without a good pipe of tobacco.

"Should my recreant muse,—Sometimes apt to refuseThe guidance of bit and of bridle,Still blankly demur, spite of whip and of spur,Unimpassioned, inconstant, or idle;Only let me puff, puff, till the brain cries enough,Such excitement is all I'm in lack o',And the poetic vein soon to fancy gives reign,Inspired by a pipe of Tobacco.

"And when with one accord, round the jovial board,In friendship our bosoms are glowing;While with toast and with song we the evening prolong,And with nectar the goblets are flowing;Still let us puff, puff—be life smooth, be it rough,Such enjoyment we're ever in lack o';The more peace and goodwill will abound as we fillA jolly good pipe of Tobacco."

Tobacco Jars.

The tobacco jar is another accessory of more recent date than tobacco pipes but interesting from the varieties of style and shapes. The finest are made of porcelain and are lavish in design and enrichment. Of all the articles of the smokers' paraphernalia none however exhibit more fanciful designs than Tobacco-stoppers used by smokers for crowding the tobacco into the pipe while smoking. The author of "A Paper of Tobacco" says:

"This was the only article on which the English smoker prided himself. It was made of various materials—wood, bone, ivory, mother-of-pearl, and silver: and the forms which it assumed were exceedingly diversified. Out of a collection of upwards of thirty tobacco-stoppers of different ages, from 1688 to the present time, the following are the most remarkable: a bear's tooth tipped with silver at the bottom, and inscribed with the name of Captain James Rogers of theHappy Return whaler, 1688; Dr. Henry Sacheverel in full canonicals, carved in ivory, 1710; a boat, a horse's hind leg, Punch, and another character in the same Drama, to wit: his Satanic majesty; a countryman with a flail; a milkmaid; an emblem of Priopus; Hope and Anchor; the Marquis of Granby; a greyhound's head and neck; a paviour's rammer; Lord Nelson; the Duke of Wellington; and Bonaparte. The tobacco-stopper was carried in the pocket or attached to a ring worn on the finger."

In Butler's Hudibras it is alluded to in connection with the astronomer's sign.

"——Bless us! quoth he,It is a planet now I see;And if I err not, by his properFigure that's like tobacco-stopper,It should be Saturn!"

In James Boswell's "Shrubs of Parnassus" (1760) a description in verse of the various kinds of tobacco-stoppers is given:

"O! let me grasp thy waist, be thou of woodOr levigated steel, for well 'tis knownThy habit is disease. In iron cladSometimes thy feature roughen to the sight,And oft transparent art thou seen in glass,Portending frangibility. The sonOf laboring mechanism here displaysExuberance of skill. The curious knot,The motley flourish winding down the sides,And freaks of fancy pour upon the viewTheir complicated charms, and as they please,Astonish. While with glee thy touch I feel,No harm my fingers dread. No fractured pipeI ask, or splinters aid, wherewith to pressThe rising ashes down. Oh! bless my hand,Chief when thou com'st with hollow circle crownedWith sculptured signet, bearing in thy wombThe treasured Cork-screw. Thus a triple serviceIn firm alliance may'st thou boast."

Tobacco-stoppers were often made of wood from some relic like a celebrated tree or mansion which gave additionalvalue by its historic associations. Taylor alludes to several made from the well known Glastonbury thorn. He says:—

Tobacco Stoppers.

"I saw the sayd branch, I did take a dead sprigge from it, wherewith I made two or three tobacco-stoppers, which I brought to London."

Pipes and tobacco-stoppers have often been favorite testimonials of friendship and reward. Fairholt says:—

"It was the custom during the last century to present country churchwardens with tobacco-boxes, after the faithful discharge of their duties."

The following lines from "The Tobacco Leaf," penned by some favored one on receiving a rare pipe, are no doubt as neat as the object that called them forth:—

"I lifted off the lid with anxious care,Removed the wrappages, strip after strip,And when the hidden contents were laid bare,My first remark was: "Mercy, what a pipe!"A pipe of symmetry that matched its size,Mounted with metal bright—a sight to see—With the rich umber hue that smokers prize,Attesting both its age and pedigree.A pipe to make the royal Freidrich jealous,Or the great Teufelsdrockh with envy gripe!A man should hold some rank above his fellowsTo justify his smoking such a pipe!What country gave it birth? What blest of citiesSaw it first kindle at the glowing coal?What happy artist murmured "Nunc dimittis,"When he had fashioned this transcendent bowl!Has it been hoarded in a monarch's treasures?Was it a gift of peace, or price of war?Did the great Khalif in his "Houre of Pleasures,"Wager and lose it to the good Zaafar?It may have soothed mild Spenser's melancholy,While musing o'er traditions of the past,Or graced the lips of brave Sir Walter Raleigh,Ere sage King Jamie blew his "Counterblast."Did it, safe hidden in some secret cavern,Escape that monarch's pipoclastic ken?Has Shakespeare smoked it at the Mermaid Tavern,Quaffing a cup of sack with rare old Ben?Ay, Shakespeare might have watched his vast creationLoom through its smoke—the spectre-haunted Thane,The Sisters at their ghostly invocations,The jealous Moor and melancholy Dane.Round its orbed haze and through its mazy ringlets,Titania may have led her elfin rout,Or Ariel fanned it with his gauzy winglets,Or Puck danced in the bowl to put it out.Vain are all fancies—questions bring no answer;The smokers vanish, but the pipe remains;He were indeed a subtle necromancer,Could read their records in its cloudy stains.Nor this alone: its destiny may doom itTo outlive e'en its use and history—Some ploughman of the future may exhume itFrom soil now deep beneath the eastern sea.And, treasured by some antiquarian Stultus,It may to gaping visitors be shown,Labelled: "The symbol of some ancient Cultus,Conjecturally Phallic, but unknown."Why do I thus recall the ancient quarrel'Twixt Man and Time, that marks all earthly things?Why labor to re-word the hackneyed moral,Ως φυλλωνγενεη, as Homer sings?For this: Some links we forge are never broken:Some feelings claim exemption from decay;And Love, of which this pipe was but the token,Shall last, though pipes and smokers pass away."

"I lifted off the lid with anxious care,Removed the wrappages, strip after strip,And when the hidden contents were laid bare,My first remark was: "Mercy, what a pipe!"

A pipe of symmetry that matched its size,Mounted with metal bright—a sight to see—With the rich umber hue that smokers prize,Attesting both its age and pedigree.

A pipe to make the royal Freidrich jealous,Or the great Teufelsdrockh with envy gripe!A man should hold some rank above his fellowsTo justify his smoking such a pipe!

What country gave it birth? What blest of citiesSaw it first kindle at the glowing coal?What happy artist murmured "Nunc dimittis,"When he had fashioned this transcendent bowl!

Has it been hoarded in a monarch's treasures?Was it a gift of peace, or price of war?Did the great Khalif in his "Houre of Pleasures,"Wager and lose it to the good Zaafar?

It may have soothed mild Spenser's melancholy,While musing o'er traditions of the past,Or graced the lips of brave Sir Walter Raleigh,Ere sage King Jamie blew his "Counterblast."

Did it, safe hidden in some secret cavern,Escape that monarch's pipoclastic ken?Has Shakespeare smoked it at the Mermaid Tavern,Quaffing a cup of sack with rare old Ben?

Ay, Shakespeare might have watched his vast creationLoom through its smoke—the spectre-haunted Thane,The Sisters at their ghostly invocations,The jealous Moor and melancholy Dane.

Round its orbed haze and through its mazy ringlets,Titania may have led her elfin rout,Or Ariel fanned it with his gauzy winglets,Or Puck danced in the bowl to put it out.

Vain are all fancies—questions bring no answer;The smokers vanish, but the pipe remains;He were indeed a subtle necromancer,Could read their records in its cloudy stains.

Nor this alone: its destiny may doom itTo outlive e'en its use and history—Some ploughman of the future may exhume itFrom soil now deep beneath the eastern sea.

And, treasured by some antiquarian Stultus,It may to gaping visitors be shown,Labelled: "The symbol of some ancient Cultus,Conjecturally Phallic, but unknown."

Why do I thus recall the ancient quarrel'Twixt Man and Time, that marks all earthly things?Why labor to re-word the hackneyed moral,Ως φυλλωνγενεη, as Homer sings?

For this: Some links we forge are never broken:Some feelings claim exemption from decay;And Love, of which this pipe was but the token,Shall last, though pipes and smokers pass away."

The verse that has been written in praise as well as dispraise of the "Indian Novelty" would of itself fill a volume of no "mean pretentions." The following clever lines from The Tobacco Plant entitled "Puffs from a Pipe," convey much advice to all smokers of tobacco.

Sage old friend! with judgment ripe;Come and join me in a pipe.Brother student! brother joker,Thee I greet, O! brother smoker.Smoke, O! men of every station,Every climate, every nation.East and West, and South and North,Recognize Tobacco's worth.Red man! let thy warfare cease:Smoke the calumet of peace.Chinaman! shun opium-grief:Use the pure Tobacco leaf.Frenchmen! no more foes provoke:Follow arts of peace—and smoke!German victors! crowned with laurel,Smoke, content; and seek no quarrel.Americans no one needs bidTo blow a cloud, or take a quid.Though rows shake Dame Europa's school,Johnny Bull smokes, calm and cool.Toffy, it will ease thy brain, man!Smoke and snuff, and smoke again, man!Paddy, light of heart and gay,Smoke thy dhudeen: short black clay.Sawney, on thy Hielen' hill,Tak' thy sneishin'; tak' thy gill!Tourist, thou hast journey'd far;Rest, and light a mild cigar.Sailor, from the stormy seas,Take a quid, and take thine ease."Soldier tired," put off thy shako;Prepare to fire, and burn tobacco.Workman, prize thine honest labor;Burn thy weed, and love thy neighbor!Evil-doers, when ye burnThe weed; think how soon 'twill be your turn.Artist, let thy "coloring" beOf a pipe; thy "drawing," free!Miser, moderate thy greed!Mend thy life, and take a weed.Lawyer, loose thy bitter gripe!Burn thy writ—to light a pipe.Statesman, harassed night and day,Blow a cloud; puff care away!Hardy tiller of the soil!Light a pipe; 'twill lighten toil.Usurer, we surely knowThou wilt have thyquid pro quo.Merchant, smoke thy pipe; hang care!Draughts are always honored there.Gentle friend, whom troubles fret!Smoke a soothing cigarette.Preacher! take a pinch with me:Snuff is dust, and so are we.Hence with moralizings musty!I say life is "not so dusty."Smoke in gladness; smoke in trouble;Soothe the last, the former double!Teach the Fiji Indians, then,To chew their quids, instead of men.Pain from heart and brain to wipe,Pass the weed, and fill your pipe!Prince and peasant, lord and lackey,All in some form take their 'Baccy.

Sage old friend! with judgment ripe;Come and join me in a pipe.

Brother student! brother joker,Thee I greet, O! brother smoker.

Smoke, O! men of every station,Every climate, every nation.

East and West, and South and North,Recognize Tobacco's worth.

Red man! let thy warfare cease:Smoke the calumet of peace.

Chinaman! shun opium-grief:Use the pure Tobacco leaf.

Frenchmen! no more foes provoke:Follow arts of peace—and smoke!

German victors! crowned with laurel,Smoke, content; and seek no quarrel.

Americans no one needs bidTo blow a cloud, or take a quid.

Though rows shake Dame Europa's school,Johnny Bull smokes, calm and cool.

Toffy, it will ease thy brain, man!Smoke and snuff, and smoke again, man!

Paddy, light of heart and gay,Smoke thy dhudeen: short black clay.

Sawney, on thy Hielen' hill,Tak' thy sneishin'; tak' thy gill!

Tourist, thou hast journey'd far;Rest, and light a mild cigar.

Sailor, from the stormy seas,Take a quid, and take thine ease.

"Soldier tired," put off thy shako;Prepare to fire, and burn tobacco.

Workman, prize thine honest labor;Burn thy weed, and love thy neighbor!

Evil-doers, when ye burnThe weed; think how soon 'twill be your turn.

Artist, let thy "coloring" beOf a pipe; thy "drawing," free!

Miser, moderate thy greed!Mend thy life, and take a weed.

Lawyer, loose thy bitter gripe!Burn thy writ—to light a pipe.

Statesman, harassed night and day,Blow a cloud; puff care away!

Hardy tiller of the soil!Light a pipe; 'twill lighten toil.

Usurer, we surely knowThou wilt have thyquid pro quo.

Merchant, smoke thy pipe; hang care!Draughts are always honored there.

Gentle friend, whom troubles fret!Smoke a soothing cigarette.

Preacher! take a pinch with me:Snuff is dust, and so are we.

Hence with moralizings musty!I say life is "not so dusty."

Smoke in gladness; smoke in trouble;Soothe the last, the former double!

Teach the Fiji Indians, then,To chew their quids, instead of men.

Pain from heart and brain to wipe,Pass the weed, and fill your pipe!

Prince and peasant, lord and lackey,All in some form take their 'Baccy.

Lord and Lackey.

The evil effects occasioned by man's indulging too frequently in tobacco have been the subject of many a fierce debate between the friends and foes of the "great plant." Many, however, are not aware of the fatality attending its use by the brute creation. A modern English poet on hearing of the result produced on a cow from chewing tobacco, penned the following sad lines which he entitles—"An elegy on somebody's Cow."

Weep! weep, ye chewers! Lowly bend, and bow;Here lieth what was once a happy cow.No more her voice she'll raise, now low, now high,In amber fields, beneath an autumn sky;No more she'll wander to the milking-pail,While swine stand by to see her chew "pig-tail;"No more round her the bees, a busy crew,Shall linger, eager after "honey-dew;"No more for her shall smoking grains be spread:All bellowless remains her empty shed.Sad was her fate. Reflect, all ye who read:Life's flower destroyed by the accursed weed.When first the yellow juice streamed o'er her lip,One might have said, "This is a sad cow-slip."To chew the peaceful cud by nature bid,Degraded man taught her to chew a quid.Sad the effect on body and on mind:Her coat grew "shaggy," her milk nicotined;Over her head shall naught but clover grow,While o'er her peaceful grave the clouds shall blow.No invalid shall ask for her cow-heel,To heal his ailments with the simple meal;Her whiskful tail into no soup shall go;Mother of "weal" that would but bring us woe.Her tripe shall honor not the festive meal,Where smoking onions all their joys reveal;Nor shall those shins that oft lagged on the road,Be sold in cheap cook-shops as "a la mode,"Her tongue must soon be sandwiched under ground,Nor at pic-nics with cheap champagne go round;Yea, even her poor bones are past all hope—Not fit to be boiled down for scented soap.Ah! hide her hide, poor beast. Her stomachs fiveDyed with the chewing she could not survive;The very worms from her will turn away,To seek some anti-chewer for their prey.Ye chewers! be ye pilgrims to her tomb;Lament with us o'er her untimely doom.Awhile she stood the anti-chewer's butt,Till scythe-arm'd Time gave her an "ugly cut."She stagger'd to her death, and feebly cried,And sneezed, "Achew! achew!" and chewing died.

Sad was her fate. Reflect, all ye who read:Life's flower destroyed by the accursed weed.When first the yellow juice streamed o'er her lip,One might have said, "This is a sad cow-slip."To chew the peaceful cud by nature bid,Degraded man taught her to chew a quid.Sad the effect on body and on mind:Her coat grew "shaggy," her milk nicotined;Over her head shall naught but clover grow,While o'er her peaceful grave the clouds shall blow.

No invalid shall ask for her cow-heel,To heal his ailments with the simple meal;Her whiskful tail into no soup shall go;Mother of "weal" that would but bring us woe.Her tripe shall honor not the festive meal,Where smoking onions all their joys reveal;Nor shall those shins that oft lagged on the road,Be sold in cheap cook-shops as "a la mode,"Her tongue must soon be sandwiched under ground,Nor at pic-nics with cheap champagne go round;Yea, even her poor bones are past all hope—Not fit to be boiled down for scented soap.

Ah! hide her hide, poor beast. Her stomachs fiveDyed with the chewing she could not survive;The very worms from her will turn away,To seek some anti-chewer for their prey.Ye chewers! be ye pilgrims to her tomb;Lament with us o'er her untimely doom.Awhile she stood the anti-chewer's butt,Till scythe-arm'd Time gave her an "ugly cut."She stagger'd to her death, and feebly cried,And sneezed, "Achew! achew!" and chewing died.

There are many parodies of popular poems written in praise of the weed; of which the following in imitation of Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade," entitled "The Charge of the Tobacco Jar Brigade," is one of the best.

"Epigrams, epigrams,Pour'd in, and numbered—Good, bad, indifferent—More than Six Hundred."Epigrams potters want,"Quoth The Tobacco Plant:Write! you for fame who pant;Write! we'll three prizes grant."Wrote for Tobacco-Jars,Over Six Hundred.Postmen, ere morning's light;Postmen, whilst day was bright;Postmen, as closed in night,Ran—tan'd and thunder'dLoud at our office door;Brought letters, many score—Contents of bags—to pourTable and desk all o'er:Handfuls and armfuls bore,Casting them on the floor.Then through the town they tore,Hastening back for more—More than Six Hundred.Letters to right of us,Letters to left of us,Letters in front of us,Seeming unnumbered!Envelopes every sizeMet our astonish'd eyes.Writer with writer vies!Which wins the chiefest prizeOut of Six Hundred.How did each writer strainAfter a happy vein!Pegasus, spurning rein,Shied, jibb'd, and blunder'd.Reverend writers, thenTook up the winged pen;Suff'rers on beds of painSought the bright muse again;Lawyer and barristerCourted and harassed her;M. D.s and editors;Debtors and creditors;Artists and artisans,Nicotine's partisans;Nurses and gentle damesCall'd it endearing names;Poets, ship-masters, too;Ay! poetasters, too;Wooing fair Nicotine,Six hundred scribes were seen.Anti-Tobacco cant,Bigoted, bilious rant,Bursting to vent their spleen,Joined the Six Hundred.Flash'd many fancies rare;Flash'd like Aurora's glare;Quick jotted down with care;Some the reverse of fair;Some that we well could spare;Some that were made to bearBlunders unnumbered.Plunging in metaphor,Not a bit better for—Pardon the Cockney rhyme!—Similies plunder'd.Praising Tobacco smoke,Heeding not grammar's yoke,Prosody's rules they broke.Many a rhyming moke,Sense from rhyme sundered:Many wrote well, but not—Not the Six Hundred.Honour Tobacco! roll'd,Cut, press'd, however sold.Alpha and Beta, bold,Ye shall be tipp'd with gold.Omega shall be sold,Others in type beholdNearly Six Hundred."

Postmen, ere morning's light;Postmen, whilst day was bright;Postmen, as closed in night,Ran—tan'd and thunder'dLoud at our office door;Brought letters, many score—Contents of bags—to pourTable and desk all o'er:Handfuls and armfuls bore,Casting them on the floor.Then through the town they tore,Hastening back for more—More than Six Hundred.

Letters to right of us,Letters to left of us,Letters in front of us,Seeming unnumbered!Envelopes every sizeMet our astonish'd eyes.Writer with writer vies!Which wins the chiefest prizeOut of Six Hundred.

How did each writer strainAfter a happy vein!Pegasus, spurning rein,Shied, jibb'd, and blunder'd.Reverend writers, thenTook up the winged pen;Suff'rers on beds of painSought the bright muse again;Lawyer and barristerCourted and harassed her;M. D.s and editors;Debtors and creditors;Artists and artisans,Nicotine's partisans;Nurses and gentle damesCall'd it endearing names;Poets, ship-masters, too;Ay! poetasters, too;Wooing fair Nicotine,Six hundred scribes were seen.Anti-Tobacco cant,Bigoted, bilious rant,Bursting to vent their spleen,Joined the Six Hundred.

Flash'd many fancies rare;Flash'd like Aurora's glare;Quick jotted down with care;Some the reverse of fair;Some that we well could spare;Some that were made to bearBlunders unnumbered.Plunging in metaphor,Not a bit better for—Pardon the Cockney rhyme!—Similies plunder'd.Praising Tobacco smoke,Heeding not grammar's yoke,Prosody's rules they broke.Many a rhyming moke,Sense from rhyme sundered:Many wrote well, but not—Not the Six Hundred.Honour Tobacco! roll'd,Cut, press'd, however sold.Alpha and Beta, bold,Ye shall be tipp'd with gold.Omega shall be sold,Others in type beholdNearly Six Hundred."

The following poem entitled "Weedless," after Byron's "Darkness," gives a vivid description of the world without tobacco.

"I had a dream, and it was all a dream:Tobacco was abolish'd, and cigarsWere flung by "Antis" fearsome space—The foreign and the British fared alike—And the blue smoke was blown beyond the moon.Night came and went and came, and brought no "weed,"And men forgot their suppers, in the dreadOf the dire desolation; and all tonguesWere tingling with the taste of empty pipes;And they did live all wretched; old hay bands,And street-door mats, and clover brown and dry;Carpets, rope-yarn, and such things as men sell,Were burnt for 'bacca; haystacks were consumed,And men were gathered round each blazing mass,To have another makeshift sniff.Happy were those who smoked, with smould'ring logs,The harmless Yarmouth bloater after death—Another pipe not all the world contain'd;The furze was set on fire, but, hour by hour,The stock diminish'd; all the prickly pointsQuivered to death, and soon it all was gone.The lips of men by the expiring stuffDrew in and out, and all the world had fits.The cinders fell upon them; some sprang up,And blew their noses loud, and some did standUpon their heads, and sway'd despairing feet;And others madly up and down the worldWith "two-pence" hurried, shouting out for "Shag;"And wink'd and blink'd at th' unclouded sky,The "Anti's" smokeless banner—then againFlung all their halfpence down into the dust,And chewed their tainted pockets; snuffers wept,And, flatt'ning noses on the dreary ground,Inhaled the useless dust; the biggest "rough"Came mild, tobacco-begging; p'licement came,And mix'd themselves among the multitude,"Run in" forgotten; uniforms were chew'd,And teeth which for a moment had had rest,Did move themselves again; old beaver hatsFetch'd little fortunes; they were torn in bits,And smok'd or chew'd at will; no bits were left.All earth was but one thought, and that was smoke,Immediate and glorious; and a pangOf horror came at intervals, and menCried; and the boys were restless as themselves,Till by degrees their stockings were devour'd;E'en pipes were dropp'd despairing—all, save one,One man was faithful to his pipe, and keptDespair and deeper misery at bay,By seeking ever for a "topper," droppedFrom some spurned pipe, but that he could not find;So, with a piteous and perpetual glare,And a quick dissolute word, sucking the pipe,Which answer'd never with a whiff, he slept;The crowd dispersed by slow degrees, but twoOf all the dreary company remain'd,And they kept 'bacca shops; they sat uponThe scanted lid of a tobacco tub,Wherein was heap'd a mass of coined bronze—Profits of 'bacca, sold—they were sold out;They, grinning, scraped with their warm, eager handsThe little halfpence and the bigger pence,Counted a little time, and cried "Haw! haw!"Like a whole rookery; then lifted upThe tub as it grew lighter, and beheldEach other's profits; saw, and smiled, and winked,Uncaring that the world was poor indeed,So they were rich in pence. The world was mad,The populace and peerage both alikeBirds—Eyeless, Shagless, and returnless, too—Oh! day of death, oh! chaos of hard times!—And princes, dukes, and lords, they all stood still,Feeling within their pockets' silent depths;And sailors went a-moaning out to sea,And chew'd their cables piecemeal: then they wept,And slept on the abyss without a quid.All quids were gone, cigars were in their graves;The plant, their mother, had been rooted up;Pawnbrokers had a ton of pipes apiece,And "Antis" triumph'd. Then they had no needTo keep a "Sec.," so Reynolds got the "sack."

One of the best of all parodies is one in imitation of Longfellow's "Excelsior," entitled "Tobacco." It is from "Copis' Tobacco Plant."

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