Readers of Sir Walter Scott will remember in “The Heart of Midlothian” one curious instance of eighteenth-century smoking in church—­in a Scottish Presbyterian church, too.  Jeanie Deans’s beloved Reuben Butler was about to be ordained to the charge of the parish of Knocktarlitie, Dumbartonshire; the congregation were duly seated, after prayers, douce David Deans occupying a seat among the elders, and the officiating minister had read his text preparatory to the delivery of his hour and a quarter sermon.  The redoubtable Duncan of Knockdunder was making his preparations also for the sermon.  “After rummaging the leathern purse which hung in front of his petticoat, he produced a short tobacco-pipe made of iron, and observed almost aloud, ’I hae forgotten my spleuchan—­Lachlan, gang doon 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.  When the discourse was finished, he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, replaced it in his sporran, returned the tobacco-pouch or spleuchan to its owner, and joined in the prayers with decency and attention.”  David Deans, however, did not at all approve this irreverence.  “It didna become a wild Indian,” he said, “much less a Christian and a gentleman, to sit in the kirk puffing tobacco-reek, as if he were in a change-house.”  The date of the incident was 1737; but whether Sir Walter had any authority in fact for this characteristic performance of Knockdunder, or not, it is certain that any such occurrence in a Scottish kirk must have been extremely rare.

Knockdunder’s pipe, according to Scott, was made of iron.  This was an infrequent material for tobacco-pipes, but there are a few examples in museums.  In the Belfast Museum there is a cast iron tobacco-pipe about eighteen inches long.  With it are shown another, very short, also of cast iron, the bowl of a brass pipe, and a pipe, about six inches in length, made of sheet iron.

Another eighteenth-century instance of smoking in church, taken from historical fact and not from fiction, is associated with the church of Hayes, in Middlesex.  The parish registers of that village bear witness to repeated disputes between the parson and bell-ringers and the parishioners generally in 1748-1754.  In 1752 it was noted that a sermon had been preached after a funeral “to a noisy congregation.”  On another occasion, says the register, “the ringers and other inhabitants disturbed the service from the beginning of prayers to the end of the sermon, by ringing the bells, and going into the gallery to spit below”; while at yet another time “a fellow came into church with a pot of beer and a pipe,” and remained “smoking in his own pew until the end of the sermon.”  Going to church at Hayes in those days must have been quite an exciting experience.  No one knew what might happen next.