Another French visitor to our shores, M. Jorevin, whose rare book of travels was published at Paris in 1672, was wandering in the west of England about the year 1666, and in the course of his journey stayed at the Stag Inn at Worcester, where he found he had to make himself quite at home with the family of his hostess.  He tells us that according to the custom of the country the landladies sup with strangers and passengers, and if they have daughters, these also are of the company to entertain the guests at table with pleasant conceits where they drink as much as the men.  But what quite disgusted our visitor was “that when one drinks the health of any person in company, the custom of the country does not permit you to drink more than half the cup, which is filled up and presented to him or her whose health you have drunk.  Moreover, the supper being finished, they set on the table half a dozen pipes, and a packet of tobacco, for smoking, which is a general custom as well among women as men, who think that without tobacco one cannot live in England, because, say they, it dissipates the evil humours of the brain.”

Although, according to M. Misson, the women of Devon and Cornwall might wonder why the women of Middlesex did not take tobacco, it is certain that London and its neighbourhood did contain at least a few female smokers.  Tom Brown, often dubbed “the facetious,” but to whom a sterner epithet might well be applied, writing about the end of the seventeenth century, mentions a vintner’s wife who, having “made her pile,” as might be said nowadays, retires to a little country-house at Hampstead, where she drinks sack too plentifully, smokes tobacco in an elbow-chair, and snores away the remainder of her life.  And the same writer was responsible for a satirical letter “to an Old Lady that smoak’d Tobacco,” which shows that the practice was not general, for the letter begins:  “Madam, Tho’ the ill-natur’d world censures you for smoaking.”  Brown advised her to continue the “innocent diversion” because, first, it was good for the toothache, “the constant persecutor of old ladies,” and, secondly, it was a great help to meditation, “which is the reason, I suppose,” he continues, “that recommends it to your parsons; the generality of whom can no more write a sermon without a pipe in their mouths, than a concordance in their hands.”

From the evidence so far adduced it may fairly be concluded, I think, that during the seventeenth century smoking was not fashionable, or indeed anything but rare, among the women of the more well-to-do classes, while among women of humbler rank it was an occasional, and in a few districts a fairly general habit.

The same conclusion holds good for the eighteenth century.  Among women of the lowest class smoking was probably common enough.  In Fielding’s “Amelia,” a woman of the lowest character is spoken of as “smoking tobacco, drinking punch, talking obscenely and swearing and cursing”—­which accomplishments are all carefully noted, because none of them would be applicable to the ordinary respectable female.