A Belgian Smoking Competition.
By A. Pitcairn-Knowles.
There is more tobacco per head consumed in Belgium than in any other country in the world. It is therefore fitting, perhaps, that one of the favourite pastimes of the menfolk should be smoking competitions, at which valuable prizes are awarded to the man who can make his pipeful of tobacco last the longest. Our representative was recently the guest of honour at a competition held by the premier smokers’ club of Belgium, and here describes and illustrates what he saw.
BRUGSCHE ROOKERSCLUB.
Honoured Sir and Member,—Once more an honour is being bestowed upon us. Mr. A. Pitcairn-Knowles, the representative of three journals of world-wide reputation, will be present at our general meeting on Friday next, and will give an account of this gathering in one or perhaps in all of those papers. We have, therefore, decided to commence the meeting at an earlier hour. We shall assemble at 8.30 p.m., and open the entertainment with a grand prize competition, and we urgently beg you to put in an appearance, as the reputation of our club depends to a great extent upon the success of the fête. As true smokers you should look upon it as your duty to join us at 8.30 p.m. sharp, on Friday, the 11th inst. Accept, honoured Sir and Member, the greetings of your devoted committee.—(For the President) The Second Secretary, L. Monballiu.
THE GORGEOUS BANNER OF THE BRUGES SMOKING CLUB.
From a Photograph.
Such were the contents of a printed notice in Flemish sent out to all members of the Bruges Smoking Club, as a result of my expressing a desire to the indefatigable secretary of this most famous of all Belgian “Rookersclubs” to witness one of their quaint smokers’ competitions.
I am glad to be able to state that the invitation issued to the Bruges devotees of the fragrant weed had the desired effect, and when I reached the cosy Graenenburg Estaminet of the Grande Place I found the obliging secretary and the genial president of the Smokers’ Club preparing for a record attendance, which, judging from the number already present, seemed assured. My introduction to the assembly was looked upon as needless, since everyone present was acquainted with the reason for my admission within the precincts of the club, and the most strenuous efforts were made to render my visit to the Graenenburg an agreeable one.
In response to the invitation of the secretary, I ascended a steep staircase leading from the café to a room reserved for the club. It was there that the solemn function of admitting new members took place, and general regrets were expressed that my visit had not been made upon a day which would have presented an opportunity for witnessing such a ceremony. As it was, I had to content myself with an inspection of the paten, to which, on such an occasion, the would-be member had to press his lips after taking an oath in the following words: “I pledge myself solemnly to be a faithful and honest member of the club, and to conform strictly to the rules.” Previously to installation, he had to furnish proof of his suitability for election by smoking a pipe in the presence of the committee.
A CURIOUS AND VERY ANCIENT PIPE-RACK IN THE POSSESSION OF THE BRUGES SMOKING CLUB.
From a Photograph.
Although I had not the good fortune to be present at such an inauguration, time did not hang heavily on my hands while waiting for the smokers to prepare for the contest.
THE JUDGES WEIGHING OUT THE COMPETITORS’ ALLOWANCES OF TOBACCO AND FILLING THE PIPES.
From a Photograph.
Glancing around the room I noticed with interest a large shield adorning the wall, upon which was arranged an assortment of most curious pipes, representing all corners of the globe. In fact, the place was a veritable museum of pipes, giving silent testimony of the character and degree of culture attained, as well as of the individual taste of smokers of almost every nation of the world. The lordly meerschaum, elaborately carved; the Turkish chibouque; the “hubble-bubble,” in which the fumes pass through water; the long German pipe, with its china bowl adorned with a gay picture; the Indian’s pipe of peace—all, their functions finished, now hang side by side in idle repose. A huge pipe carved from the stump of a tree and a pipe with a sea-shell for a bowl were conspicuous among the curiosities of the collection.
After my inspection of the museum the labour of deciphering the rules of the club, in Flemish, came as a less welcome task, but the secretary, always ready to be of service, aided my efforts, and I was able to discover the real objects of the association.
A casual observer might be somewhat surprised to find that a society of this kind should require numerous laws and regulations, but a glimpse at the workings behind the scenes of a Belgian “Rookersclub” furnishes convincing proof that the number of rules is in no way excessive, considering the importance of the institution, for the strictest discipline is a sine quâ non in a well-conducted “Rookersclub.”
Many are the duties of the members and the regulations for competitions. No applicant can be elected unless he has reached the age of eighteen. Cigars and cigarettes are tabooed, the pipe being looked upon as the only justifiable means of satisfying that craving which makes us slaves to the weed. The chief object of the club being to teach, through its disciples, the world at large the use of tobacco and to guard against its abuse, it wisely refrains from over-indulgence, and asks no more from its members than that they should “smoke at least one pipe at every club meeting.”
THE CONTEST IN FULL SWING.
From a Photograph.
The picture the words “smoking competition” call up to the mind’s eye of the uninitiated, of competitors sitting in a room made almost unbearable by the dense volumes of smoke they are vigorously puffing from their pipes, is as far from the reality as it is possible to imagine. When I stepped into the spick and span Café Graenenburg I was certainly under the impression that I was conversant with the science of smoking, though I must own I had up to that time been willing to accept with blind faith its dictionary definition as “a continuous drawing in and puffing out of the fumes of burning tobacco,” which is, I assume, what nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand of my fellow-smokers look upon as the desideratum of their enjoyment.
“SMOKE, PLEASE!” A COMMITTEEMAN DEMANDING PROOF THAT A COMPETITOR’S PIPE IS STILL ALIGHT.
From a Photograph.
Now, however, after half the term usually allotted for mankind’s existence upon this earth had run out, the truth dawned upon me that I had hitherto been chasing shadows, and would have to learn all over again. Smoking was, I began to realize, not the simple, easy pastime I had considered it to be, but an art which one might only expect to master after careful study, silent pondering, and steady practice. In this humble frame of mind I lost no time in repairing to an expert for instruction in the management of a pipe, so that all fatal mistakes should be avoided at the outset of my second schooling; and now that I am on the high road towards experiencing hitherto dimly-conceived moments of unalloyed bliss, let me impart my experience as a valuable secret to those who lie under the same mistaken impression which I once fostered. In the words of my preceptor: “The true art of smoking consists in reducing the combustion to a minimum, and yet never allowing the pipe to go out while a particle of tobacco remains in the bowl. The object is not to smoke quickly or much—we are not locomotives bent upon producing force, but men on the quest of solace and enjoyment.”
But now let us see the outcome of his doctrine, as displayed by the members of the “Rookersclub” on the occasion of my visit to their meeting-place.
The preliminary arrangements for the battle of pipes having been completed, I was led back to the café, where the committee were busily engaged at a table putting the finishing touches to their work. Before them lay the empty pipes, all of equal length and size. Tobacco taken out of a jar was being apportioned into little heaps to be weighed on a small pair of scales. As each competitor’s share, consisting of exactly forty-five grains, left the scales to replenish the pipe awaiting it, the eyes of the judge roved anxiously from the balance to the hands of the colleague to whom the filling of the bowls had been entrusted. Unerring fairness characterized the operations of the committee. Around another table the competitors were seated indulging in “bocks” while waiting to take part in the struggle for supremacy in serious smoking.
At last a general wave of excitement showed that the proceedings were about to begin. The pipes were placed in the hands of their claimants, the matches put within easy reach, and the president, in his capacity of judge, called for attention.
“You have two minutes in which to light your pipes!” he announced, watch in hand; then, presently, “One minute!” “Half a minute!” “One quarter of a minute!” These successive announcements were followed by the ringing of a bell, and then, almost simultaneously, twenty hands holding burning matches were raised to set the pipes alight. All but one or two, whom anxiety to be in time had slightly flurried, delayed setting the match to the tobacco until the very last moment. One unfortunate competitor procrastinated too long, and was promptly disqualified before he could apply the light. No time had been wasted in removing the matches from the table, and as soon as the time-limit had been reached every one but the disappointed straggler was beginning very slowly to draw short puffs. At this critical moment, when all the rivals were applying themselves with slow caution to the initial whiffs, on which the final issue frequently depends, so complete a silence reigned that one might have heard the proverbial pin drop. It is said by many that the secret of success is found in the way of lighting, but as to which is the correct modus operandi there exists a great diversity of opinion, for while one expert will attribute his success to the fact that he lights the tobacco nearest the side of the bowl, another equally practised smoker believes in applying the match to a central spot. Be that as it may, there is no denying the fact that to ensure obtaining a satisfactory start both experience and intelligence are essential factors.
“IN DISTRESS.”
From a Photograph.
But to return to our friends of the “Rookersclub.” Ten minutes had elapsed, and all were still in the running except the disappointed man who had been ejected at the outset. Some had become quite communicative, trusting to their pipes to look after themselves while they exchanged views on politics. Others, not losing for one moment their sense of the importance of the occasion, kept the stems between their teeth, without allowing their tense expressions to relax into the faintest suspicion of a smile. One competitor in particular looked as if he were made of wax, even the chaffing of his colleagues failing to upset his gravity. He had been pointed out to me as a winner of many prizes and the fortunate possessor of a temperament any smoker might envy.
“Ting-a-ling” went the bell, the announcement of the extinction of a pipe—the first defeat—and this early failure was received with general merriment.
AN OPEN-AIR CONTEST IN THE COUNTRY.
From a Photograph.
A MEETING OF CHAMPIONS.
From a Photograph.
But hark! The bell was heard again. This time the victim was a man who had been trying to give me some faint idea of the magnitude of the feats he intended to accomplish, his loquacity being undoubtedly the cause of his premature downfall. As he made his exit amid roars of laughter I attempted to assuage his mortification by promising to convince myself on a future occasion of the grounds for his self-praise. He was forced to the indignity of becoming a looker-on, and tried to find consolation by critically regarding the performance of each candidate. Each time the judge’s bell gave the signal for the departure of another competitor he had some infallible theory to expound in regard to the unsuccessful smoker’s faults and follies, and upon those who still possessed a winning chance he generously showered well-meant, but unsolicited, counsel.
Slowly but surely the tobacco of the remaining competitors burnt itself out, and every quarter of an hour, when the clock of the world-famed belfry on the opposite side of the square pealed forth one of its melodious airs, the number of the possible victors had diminished.
After the lapse of about three-quarters of an hour the judge’s bell set up a continuous tinkle. It was now time for those who acted as controllers to keep a sharp look-out, and every now and then the order “Smoke, please,” could be heard, as a committee-man pointed at the bowl of an apparently extinguished pipe, whereupon the faintest cloud of smoke would rise into the air from the clay of the cunning laggard, or the bell would announce another failure.
TOASTING THE WINNER AT A COUNTRY COMPETITION.
From a Photograph.
Presently the fiftieth minute arrived, and the number of smokers had dwindled down to six. Opinions differed as to which would “live” to bear the palm. Among the favourites was the amiable secretary himself, one of the most skilful of the Bruges “Rookers,” who, strange as it may seem, is practically a non-smoker when outside the precincts of the club. In the president of the club he possesses a most formidable rival, who enjoys the reputation of being able to win one of the first prizes whenever he chooses to do so.
An hour and five minutes had passed when the secretary and three other members were found to be the sole survivors. Then the unexpected happened. The secretary was seen to be in distress. His efforts to entertain a guest of the club—I had been given the honour of sitting beside him—had diverted his attention from his difficult task; and once more the bell made itself heard as he laid down his pipe, unable to respond to the judge’s request of “Smoke, please.”
One hour and ten minutes had run their course, and only two men were competing. The excitement became intense as the members gathered round the two valiant champions to get a close view and offer encouragement to the one or the other. To outward appearance both were calm and confident. They allowed the tiniest cloud of smoke to escape at intervals from their pipes, and it looked as if these motionless and imperturbable men might survive long enough to eclipse the famous club-record achieved by a champion who succeeded in making sixty grains of tobacco last as long as one hundred and twenty minutes.
A SUCCESSFUL COMPETITOR RECEIVING A MONEY PRIZE.
From a Photograph.
But suddenly one of the rivals became agitated. He was beginning to realize that the end of his resources was last approaching, for the spark in his pipe became more and more difficult to keep alive. Anxiously he blew into the stem, but only with the wasteful result of dispersing a tiny particle of fire, the last that remained, as it proved, for the pipe was empty. Sadly he laid down his clay, leaving the victory to his opponent. The latter smoked on with an unmoved countenance, allowing not the smallest sign of elation to escape him, as he continued to foster, by an almost imperceptible inhalation, the tiny spark in the clay bowl which had now become the sole object of attention in the crowded room. A hasty movement on the part of the victor as if to settle himself more comfortably in his chair to prepare for a long-dreamt-of record, a slightly more animated whiff to counteract the effect of this incautious action, and the mischief was done—the smoker drew an extinguished pipe from his mouth. He had won, sure enough, but only by twelve short seconds. “One hour twenty-one minutes and thirty-three seconds,” announced the judge. “And to think that I might have held on another half-hour with a little more care!” sighed the disappointed winner.
Then followed the ceremony of presenting the prizes, the successful candidates being allowed to make their choice of rewards in the order in which they were placed. A bread-basket, a pocket-knife, a flower-vase, and other useful and ornamental souvenirs were handed over to the fortunate ones, after which victors and vanquished assembled once more around the long table to enjoy a pipe in the ordinary way, without restraint or restriction.
Nowhere in Belgium are competitions of the kind I have described conducted in a more correct and business-like manner than in Bruges; in fact, the “Brugsche Rookersclub” can be considered in every respect as authoritative and exemplary in matters pertaining to the world of “pipenrookers,” as the smoker of the pipe is called in Flanders. It is among the quaint Flemish people that smoking clubs and smoking competitions enjoy more widespread popularity than in any other part of King Leopold’s little dominion, and nearly every village, no matter how small, can boast of a “Rookersmaatschappij,” which almost unpronounceable word is the equivalent for what we term “smokers’ club.” In the country districts it is the custom to compete for money prizes, and to decorate the winner with some floral adornment, which is pinned on his breast as a visible proof of the honour he has achieved. Many of the estaminets, which thrive in countless numbers in thirsty Flanders, endeavour to stimulate the desire of customers for refreshment by organizing a “Prijskamp in Het Rooken,” and offering prizes to those who best understand the art of making a little tobacco go a very long way.
THE JUDGE DISTRIBUTING ARTIFICIAL FLORAL FAVOURS AMONG THE PRIZE-WINNERS.
From a Photograph.
Smoking for prizes is a curious way of killing time and may not appeal to the Anglo-Saxon, who prefers to devote his leisure to more active and health-giving occupations, but it possesses certain advantages over other pastimes which must be taken into consideration. It is not costly, it is not dangerous, it is sociable, and, as my kind hosts of the “Brugsche Rookersclub” were at pains to convince me, it is a form of rivalry from which much excitement can be gained. But above all it teaches one the use, as distinguished from the abuse, of tobacco, which is undoubtedly the best raison d’être for smokers’ clubs and smokers’ contests in a country whose army of smokers forms no less than a third of its entire population, and whose annual consumption of tobacco is six and a quarter pounds per head. This is more than three times the amount consumed in the United Kingdom, and six times as much as in Italy. In fact, little Belgium’s appreciation of tobacco reaches limits unattained in any other part of the world.
