SMOKING AND SNUFFING IN CHURCH.
Amongst the ‘things not generally known’ to the present generation is that smoking has been indulged in in the churches of Great Britain, in various parts of ‘the continent’—particularly in the Netherlands—and in South America. It is nevertheless true. It must not, however, be inferred from this statement that the practice was so general amongst the male portion of the congregation as it is in the ‘smoking concerts’ of our day, or that the fairer sex participated in the ‘weed’ during the performance of divine worship. The practice prevailed, let us hope, to only a very limited extent; but that it had been carried on in church during the delivery of the sermon, in the church immediately after service, and in the vestry during the holding of service, and at other times, there is reliable evidence to prove. In England and Scotland, smoking in religious edifices was practised more or less during the greater portion of last century, if not the whole of it, and down into the present century. In Dutch and South American churches, smoking has been indulged in down to a very recent period. Snuff-taking in churches is a practice which is common throughout the European continent. It has also prevailed in the churches of both England and Scotland for a long period; but the snuff-takers in places of worship of to-day are not so demonstrative as were those of ‘the good old times,’ of which we read and hear about, but fail to realise.
Readers of Sir Walter Scott may remember that mention is made in The Heart of Midlothian of a smoker of considerable local importance, named Duncan of Knockdunder. Of him it is written: ‘So soon as the congregation were seated after prayers, and the clergyman had read his text, the gracious Duncan, after rummaging the leathern purse which hung in front of his petticoat, produced a short tobacco-pipe made of iron, and observed almost aloud: “I hae forgotten my spleuchan [tobacco-pouch], Lachlan; gang down to the clachan and bring me up a pennyworth of twist.” Six arms, the nearest within reach, presented, with an obedient start, as many tobacco-pouches to the man of office. He made choice of one with a nod of acknowledgment, filled his pipe, lighted it with the assistance of his pistol-flint, and smoked with infinite composure during the whole time of the sermon. At the end of the discourse, he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, replaced it in his sporran, returned the tobacco-pouch to its owner, and joined in the prayer with decency and attention.’
In a volume of letters written by the Rev. John Disney of Swinderby, Lincolnshire, to James Grainger, is a communication bearing the date December 13, 1773, in which this passage occurs: ‘The affair happened in St Mary’s Church in Nottingham, when Archbishop Blackbourn (of York) was there on a visitation. The archbishop had ordered some of the apparitors, or other attendants, to bring him pipes and tobacco and some liquor into the vestry, for his refreshment after the fatigue of confirmation. And this coming to Mr Disney’s ears, he forbade their being brought thither, and with a becoming spirit remonstrated with the archbishop upon the impropriety of his conduct, at the same time telling His Grace that his vestry should not be converted into a smoking-room.’ Mr Disney was grandfather to the writer of the letter above quoted, and was the vicar of Nottingham; local writers, however, who refer to this matter attribute the desire to drink and smoke in St Mary’s to the Rev. Dr Richard Reynolds, who was consecrated to the bishopric of Lincoln in 1723, and died in 1744.
The Rev. S. Parr, LL.D., was an everlasting smoker. ‘Morning, noon, and night,’ might he have been seen enveloped in clouds of tobacco-smoke. Neither time nor place seemed to him to be inappropriate for the indulgence. When he was perpetual curate of Hatton, in Warwickshire (1783-90), he regularly smoked in the vestry whilst the congregation were singing, immediately before the delivery of his sermon. For this purpose, the hymns selected were lengthy. The doctor frequently remarked: ‘My people like long hymns; but I prefer a long pipe!’ In all probability, his pipes on such occasions (to be somewhat in character with the place) were of the kind known as ‘churchwardens.’ The Rev. Robert Hall, the distinguished Baptist preacher, indulged in profuse smoking in the intervals of public worship.
A well-known writer to periodical literature tells us that only last autumn he spent a few hours at Edam, one of the so-called ‘Dead Cities of the Zuyder Zee,’ though a quietly active and bustling little place, and a great centre of the Dutch cheese-trade. The minister, in pointing out and explaining the various matters of interest about the interior, smoked a cigar and offered our informant one.
Respecting the practice of smoking in churches in South America, Mr J. M. Cowper of Canterbury writes: ‘I remember three instances of smoking in church in Lima, Peru. In the church of La Merced, I saw a layman surreptitiously enjoying his cigar while service was going on. In the vestry of the same church I saw a full-robed bishop smoking before going into the pulpit to preach. In his case, a friendly layman put a handkerchief under the episcopal chin, to keep the ashes from falling on the smoker’s robes. In the cathedral vestry, I saw the “Master of the Ceremonies” (an Englishman) smoking a cigar. A spittoon is placed in the stall of each cathedral dignitary.’
The Vice-chancellor of Cambridge issued some regulations previous to the visit of King James I. in 1615, in which it was enjoined ‘That noe graduate, scholler, or student of this universitie presume to take tobacco in St Marie’s Church uppon payne of finall expellinge the universitie.’ This most probably referred to snuffing rather than smoking. ‘It is hardly possible that a prejudice, in no degree abated, against smoking in church could have been defied so openly at such an early stage in the introduction of tobacco. On the other hand, a pinch of snuff is easily conveyed to the nostrils with a fair degree of secrecy.’ It must be remembered that at this period snuffing was in great favour with the faculty, who recommended it as the best preventive as well as cure for cold in the head.
A late rector of Hackney, the Rev. Mr Goodchild, used to refresh himself in the middle of his sermon with a tremendous pinch of snuff, which he conveyed, from his chamois-leather-lined waistcoat pocket, to his nose. A Free Church minister in Glasgow, one Sunday morning gave out as the morning lesson the fourth section of the hundred and nineteenth psalm. While his congregation were looking out the ‘portion of scripture’ in their Bibles, the Doctor of Divinity (or of Laws, we know not which) took out his mull, and seizing a lusty pinch with finger and thumb, regaled his nose with the snuff. He then began the lesson—‘My soul cleaveth unto the dust!’ The titter that ran round the church, and the confusion of the minister, showed that both the congregation and he felt the Psalmist’s ‘pinch.’
An English lady, on a visit to Scotland, attended public worship in a parish church at no great distance from Crathie. In the same pew were about a dozen persons—farmers, their wives, and herdsmen. Shortly before the beginning of the sermon, a large snuff-mull was passed to the occupants of the pew. Upon the lady-visitor declining to take a pinch, an old man, who was evidently a shepherd, whispered, in a very significant manner: ‘Tak’ the sneeshin’, mem—tak’ the sneeshin’. Ye dinna ken oor meenister; ye’ll need it afore he’s dune!’