the drinking habits of the people; formerly it was all for spirituous liquors, and now it is “Water, water everywhere, and every drop to drink!” The bars are well-nigh deserted, and the entrance-halls of most houses are ostentatiously furnished with plated beakers and goblets ensuring an icy welcome:  in fact, not to be tedious, intemperance has changed front, and excess in water has taken the place of excess in wine.’” To an Englishman’s judgment the true “part of Hamlet” in a feast is the more generous fluid, and the greatest luxuries are simply Barmecidal without some wholesome stimulant to wash them down; accordingly, my too outspoken honesty protested thus in print against this form of folly in extremes, and either pleased or offended, as friends or foes might choose to take it.

    “Temperance?  Yes! true Temperance, yes! 
    Moderation in all things, the word is express;
    ’Nothing too much’—­Greek, ‘Meden Agan;’
    So spake Cleobulus, the Seventh Wise Man;
    And the grand ‘golden mean’ was shrewd Horace’s law,
    And Solomon’s self laid it down for a saw
    That ‘good overmuch’ is a possible fault,
    As meat over-salted is worse for the salt;
    And Chilo, the Stagyrite, Peter, and Paul,
    Enjoin moderation in all things to all;
    The law to make better this trial-scene, earth,
    And draw out its strongest of wisdom and worth,
    By sagely suppressing each evil excess—­
    In feasting, of course, but in fasting no less—­
    In drinking—­by all means let no one get drunk—­
    In eating, let none be a gluttonous monk,
    But everyone feed as becometh a saint,
    With grateful indulging and wholesome restraint,
    Not pampering self, as an epicure might,
    Nor famishing self, the ascetic’s delight.

    “But man ever has been, and will be, it seems,
    Given up to intemperance, prone to extremes;
    The wish of his heart (it has always been such)
    Is, give me by all means of all things too much! 
    In pleasures and honours, in meats, and in drinks,
    He craves for the most that his coveting thinks;
    To wallow in sensual Lucullus’s sty,
    Or stand like the starving Stylites on high,
    To be free from all churches and worship alone,
    Or chain’d to the feet of a priest on a throne,
    To be rich as a Rothschild, and dozens beside,
    Or poor as St. Francis (in all things but pride),
    With appetite starved as a Faquir’s, poor wretch! 
    Or appetite fattened to luxury’s stretch;
    Denouncing good meats, on lentils he fares,
    Denouncing good wine, by water he swears—­
    In all things excessive his folly withstands
    The wise moderation that Scripture commands.