Punch (65.1873)

«

October 18, 1873.] PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHARIVAPI. 153

ORTHODOX TEMPERANCE.

ith, this year, has
seen a Church Con-
gress distinguished
by the uncommon
occurrence of a dis-
cussion in a clerical
assembly mainly
conducted with good
sense. The subject
thus rarely treated
■was that of ‘ ‘ The
Duty of the Church
in regard to the
Temperance Move-
ment,” the argu-
ment of most of the
speakers being, that
the duty of the
Church mainly was
to aid the temper-
ance movement by
preaching modera-
tion, and by setting
a personal examide
of it. This example
some of them had
carried to the ex-
tent of voluntary
total abstinence ;
but moderation was the rule they were content with recommending
as sufficient to be inculcated on other people. The Rev. Erskine
Clarke, for fifteen years a “ stanch thorough unpledged ’’ abstainer
“ from wine,” and doubtless also from all other exhilarating fluids,
including punch—notwithstanding the plea for that beverage ad-
vanced by the Ordinary of Newgate in Jonathan Wild—after haying
forcibly dwelt on the evils of excess in the use of those good familiar
creatures, observed that:—

“ With regard to Good Templars,—at the fourth session of the Grand
Lodge at Bristol it was admitted that while 183,982 members were in good
standing, 18,897 had Oolated their pledge—that was to say, that a number
equal to 10 per cent. Of its members in good standing were perjured persons.
In the name of divine compassion and common human kindness they must
all-deprecate a system which put such a stumbling-block in the way of souls—
{hear, hear /)—and he thought the duty of the Church in regard to this phase
of the temperance movement seemed to be to warn her members against it.”

The words of the good old song—

“ Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine ”

are brought to mind by the foregoing statement about the Good
Templars—their pledge appears to be entirely ocular.

It was remarked by the reverend gentleman to whom we owe the
foregoing remarks, that “ a sort of traditional feeling connected the
clergy in our literature rather with the friends of the bottle than
with its opponents; ” and he cited Hogarth’s “ parson in gown and
bands,” Shakspeare’s clergy, ‘‘none of them examples of abstinence,”
even “ the mild and gentle Cowper’s” chaplain, and “the epithet,
once so familiar, of ‘two-bottle orthodox,’ which our forefathers
used to bestow on a section of the clergy over-fond of toasting
■ ‘ Church and King,’ ” as attesting that view of them. He thought

that “ the clergy of our day, as a body, did not deserve the imputa-
tions of past time ; ” and undoubtedly they do not. Yet let it
be remembered that the two-bottle orthodox parsons were really
orthodox, and, though their two bottles were bottles of port,
mostly seldom the worse for them, and nearly all at least doc-
trinally sober. That perhaps was because it was port they drank,
and that port was sound, and sound wine engendered sound views.
Then, if any parson had dressed himself up in Romanesque pon-
tificals, and pretended to say mass, he would have been supposed to
have considerably exceeded his two bottles ; and that of a morning.
In the good old'days of two-bottle orthodoxy, a clergyman would
have got the credit of having finished at least three bottles if he
had requested his bishop to let him put up in his church a
baldacchino.

Progress and Enlightenment.

_ The passion for Railway Pilgrimages is likely to spread. Yery
likely it will extend from ithe Papists to the Mahometans. What
do our friends in the City say to the idea of a Mecca Railway ? No
doubt the Sultan would, for a consideration, readily grant the
| necessary concession to any speculators, who would then only need
j the ability to enforce it.

THE NATIONS AT THEIE LESSONS IN DAME
EUEOPA’S SCHOOL.

There’s a school, severe and stern, where their lessons nations learn—
Whose prizes and whose poenas are awarded to their earners:

On the pupil-teacher plan that school’s worked since it began,

All in it must be teachers, and all in it should be learners:

And though each nation labours for itself more than its neighbours,
’Tis their fault if ail don’t profit from each pupil in the school,
And so learn to shun the blunders that bring down the master’s
thunders,

The birch-rod on the bungler, the fool’s-cap on the fool.

There’s that burly boy, John Bull, though of habit rather full,
Too much given to beef and beer, and too keen for pocket-money,
Has a fund of common sense that counts pounds as well as pence,
And more sure, if slow, sagacity, than lads of mood more sunny.

I think that boy’s inclined to turn over in his mind
The lessons for his profit, of his fellows short and tall,

Be’t young thirteen to the dozen, Sam Slick, his Yankee Cousin,

Or that troublesome Jack Spaniard, as saucy as he’s small;

Or that solid German Bursch, whose motto still is “ dursch,”

(That’s Viennese for “thorough,” and “ durch ” don’t fit my
. rhyme),

Who his patient way still plods, makes no rush, but walks down
odds,

As through war, book, art, craft, science, flask, pot, pipe, he takes
his time ;

His objects still he reaches by persistence, and so teaches
The Hare and Tortoise moral in Dame Europa’s School;

Thanks to bottom, brains, and bellows, confounding the sharp
fellows,

Who start full speed, then slacken, scorn time, and spurn at rule.

Or that Russ boy, or boy-ar, with caftan and samovar,—-
What’s in him, what he ’s after, who here can see, or say ?

He’s the dark horse of the school, and far more of knave than fool,
Keeps to himself his little game, till the big game’s thece to play.
Or that old, old Turkish boy, who, his “kef” so he enjoy,

Lets his quondam fags take with him what liberties they dare,—
Swops solid tuck for toffey, and prefers his pipe and coffee,

To learning any lesson, and taking any care.

But who’s this stately lass, who has scarce yet found her class—

So late among the nations has Italia come to school—•

Whose eyes outshine the fairest, whose form o’erbears the rarest,
Whose brow seems made to wear a crown, her hands a realm to
rule ?

And who ’s this that, gaunt and grey,—man or woman, who shall
say ?—-

Follows frowning in her shadow, with malignant purpose keen ;
On the head a triple crown, though now crushed and beaten down,
And in the hand cross keys—their brass through their worn gilding
seen ?

But of pupils one and all, who in School to raise a squall,

To win all hearts one moment, and set all backs up, the next,

Is like this witch whose wiles charm alike in sobs or smiles,

As she changes modes and manners, till patience is perplext ?

’Tis Mademoiselle La France who still has led “ la danse,”

From Louis Outnze Minuet de la Cour to Robespierre Car-
magnole ;

Whose red heels, in la gavotte, or red caj), en Sansculotte,

Have so oft upset Sciiool order, and turned heads by the shoal.

There she stands so frail, so fair, pupils’ cross and masters’ care,
Now dux of all her classes, now on the dunce’s stool;

With the falsehood of extremes, as the text of all her themes,
Which she always gets the prize for, but ne’er reads out of
School.

Barometers’ despair, as from stormy to set-fair

Her quicksilver runs riot, down and up, and up and down,

Who can count the scale got, through, from ’89 to ’72—■

The chaos of coiffures, betwixt bonnet-rouge and crown ?

See where set before the School, freedom’s cap for cap of fool,

’Twixt the horns of a dilemma—each an absolute extreme—

She shrinks from either terror, red and white, and owns her error,
In spurning the one friend who dared of a juste milieu to dream.
Well may she beat all in themes on the “ Falsehood of Extremes,”
Who all extremes has tried in turn, and all found false as fair—
’Twixt Le Spectre rouge's alarms, and the Bourbon’s priest-blest
arms—

Whiche’er be fire, which frying-pan—thank thy star, France, ior
Tiiiers !


"C- i

., \