The forms of mountains, castled cliffs, and hills,
And shadowy glens, and groves, and beetling rocks;
And some, that seem far off, are voyaging
Their sunbright path in folds of silver.”
“Right,” said I to myself, as I lay down the volume of Hyperion, in which I had been glancing for repose. “I, too, have a friend, not yet a sexagenary bachelor, but a bachelor notwithstanding. He has one of those well oiled dispositions which turn upon the hinges of the world without creaking, except during east winds, and when there is no butter in the house. The hey-day of life is over with him; but his old age (begging his pardon) is sunny and chirping, and a merry heart still nestles in his tottering frame, like a swallow that builds in a tumble-down chimney. He is a professed Squire of Dames. The rustle of a silk gown is music to his ears, and his imagination is continually lantern-led by some will-with-the-wisp in the shape of a lady’s stomacher. In his devotion to the fair sex—the muslin, as he calls it—he is the gentle flower of chivalry. It is amusing to see how quickly he strikes into the scent of a lady’s handkerchief. When once fairly in pursuit, there is no such thing as throwing him out. His heart looks out at his eye; and his inward delight tingles down to the tail of his coat. He loves to bask in the sunshine of a smile; when he can breathe the sweet atmosphere of kid gloves and cambric handkerchiefs, his soul is in its element; and his supreme delight is to pass the morning, to use his own quaint language, ‘in making dodging calls, and wriggling round among the ladies.’” Yet there are a few little points in the picture which want retouching, and beyond all, one great omission to be remedied. It is the PIPE. What would the worthy Abbot be without his pipe? Just as uncomfortable as we should presume a dog to be without his tail. As incomplete as a sketch of Napoleon without his boots and cocked-hat. See him in a cloud, and he seems the very Premier of Cloudland. It was said of Staines, Lord Mayor of London, that he could not forego his pipe long enough to be sworn into office, without a whiff; and a print was published representing his lordship smoking in his state carriage; the sword bearer smoking—the mace bearer smoking—the coachmen smoking—the footmen smoking—the postilions smoking—and, to crown the whole—all the six horses smoking also. The ninth of November on which this event occurred, must needs have been a cloudy day.
Another cloudy day arose upon London when the great plague broke out, and on this occasion, the smoke of tobacco mingled with the gloom. In Reliquiæ Hearnianæ, it is stated that “none who kept tobacconist’s shops had the plague. It is certain that smoking was looked upon as a most excellent preservative, insomuch, that even children were obliged to smoke. And I remember”, continues the writer, “that I heard formerly Tom Rogers, who was yeoman beadle, say, that when he was that year when the plague raged, a schoolboy at Eton, all the boys of that school were obliged to smoke in the school every morning, and that he was never whipped so much in his life as he was one morning for not smoking.” We may imagine the experiences of some of these urchins at their first or second attempt, and in remembrance, it may be, of some similar experience of our own, see no cause for wonder at Tom Rogers not liking to elevate his yard of clay, and view the curls of smoke arise from the ashes of the smouldering weed. Another amateur who flourished after the great fire had burnt out all traces of the great plague, has left us the record of his “day of smoke,” and the cudgelling he received for doing that which Tom Rogers was whipped for not doing—
“I shall never forget the day when I first smoked. It was a day of exultation and humiliation. It was a Sunday. My uncle was a great smoker. He dined with us that day; and after the meal, he pulled out his cigar case, took a cheroot, and smoked it. I always liked the fumes of tobacco, so I went near him and observed how he put the cheroot into his mouth, the way he inhaled the smoke, how he puffed it out again, and the other coquetries of a regular smoker. I envied my uncle, and was determined that I would smoke myself. Uncle fell asleep. Now, thought I, here’s an opportunity not to be lost. I quietly abstracted three cigars from the case which was lying on the table, and sneaked off. Being a lad of a generous disposition, I wished that my brothers and cousins should also partake of the benefits of a smoke, so I imparted the secret to them, at which they were highly pleased. When and where to smoke was the next consideration. It was arranged that when the old people had gone to church in the evening, we should smoke in the coach-house. We were six in number. I divided the three cigars into halves, and gave each a piece. Oh, how our hearts did palpitate with joy! Fire was stealthily brought from the cook-house, and we commenced to light our cigars. Such puffing I never did see. After each puff we would open our mouths quite wide, to let the smoke out. At the performance of the first puff we laughed heartily—the smoke coming out of our mouths was so funny. At the second puff we didn’t laugh so much, but began to spit; we thought the cigars were very bitter. After the third puff we looked steadfastly at each other—each thought the other looked pale. I could not give the word of command for another pull. I felt choked, and my teeth began to chatter. There was a dead silence for a second. We were ashamed, or could not divulge the state of our feelings. Charlie was the first who gave symptoms of rebellion in his stomach. Then there was a general revolt. What occurred afterwards I did not know, till I got up from my bed next morning, to experience the delights of a sound flagellation. After that I abhorred the smell of tobacco—would never look at a cigar or think of it.” All this happened, as the narrator informed us, at the age of seven—an early age, some may imagine, who do not know that in Vizagapatam and other places on the same coasts, where the women smoke a great deal, it is a common thing for the mothers to appease their squalling brats by transferring the cigar from their own mouths to that of their infants. These youngsters being accustomed to the art of pulling, suck away gloriously for a second, and then fall asleep.
Howard Malcom states, “that in Burmah the consumption of tobacco for smoking is very great, not in pipes, but in cigars or cheroots, with wrappers made of the leaves of the Then-net tree. In making them, a little of the dried root, chopped fine, is added, and sometimes a small portion of sugar. These are sold at a rupee per thousand. Smoking is more prevalent than ‘chewing coon’ among both sexes, and is commenced by children almost as soon as they are weaned. I have seen,” he continues, “little creatures of two or three years, stark naked, tottering about with a lighted cigar in their mouth. It is not uncommon for them to become smokers even before they are weaned—the mother often taking the cheroot from her mouth and putting it into that of the infant.”
In China, the practice is so universal, that every female, from the age of eight or nine years, as an appendage to her dress, wears a small silken pocket to hold tobacco and a pipe.
The use of tobacco has become universal through the Chinese empire; men, women, children, everybody smokes almost without ceasing. They go about their daily business, cultivate the fields, ride on horseback, and write constantly with the pipe in their mouths. During their meals, if they stop for a moment, it is to smoke a pipe; and if they wake in the night, they are sure to amuse themselves in the same way. It may easily be supposed, therefore, that in a country containing, according to M. Huc, 300,000,000 of smokers, without counting the tribes of Tartary and Thibet, who lay in their stocks in the Chinese markets, the culture of tobacco has become very important. The cultivation is entirely free, every one being at liberty to plant it in his garden, or in the open fields, in whatever quantity he chooses, and afterwards to sell it, wholesale or retail, just as he likes, without the Government interfering with him in the slightest degree. The most celebrated tobacco is that obtained in Leao-tong in Mantchuria, and in the province of Sse-tchouen. The leaves, before becoming articles of commerce, undergo various preparatory processes, according to the practice of the locality. In the South, they cut them into extremely fine filaments; the people of the North content themselves with drying them and rubbing them up coarsely, and then stuff them at once into their pipes.