THE FOOD OF GREAT MEN.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4472, 20 July 1875, Page 3

THE FOOD OF GREAT MEN.

(From Bdyravki.) Charles V. was an enormous eater. We are told that “ he breakfasted at five on a fowl seethed in milk and dressed with sugar and spices. After this he went to sleep again He dined at twelve, partaking always of twenty dishes. He supped twice ; at first soon after vespers, and the second time at midnight or one o’clock, which meal was perhaps the most solid of the four. After meat he ate a great quantity of pastry and sweetmeats, and he irrigated every repast by vast draughts of beer and wine. His stomach, originally a wonderful one, succumbed after forty years of such labors” (Motley, “ Rise of the Dutch Republic”). After all, Charles died at an age —about fifty-eight—at which we are accustomed in these days to consider a statesman as still in the prime of life. The love of pastry appears to have been hereditary in the House of Hapsburg. Philip 11., the same historian tells us, “looked habitually on the ground when ho conversed, was chary of speech, embarrassed, and even suffering in manner. This was ascribed partly to ... . habitual pains in the stomach, occasioned by his inordinate fondness for pastry.” Philip ordering an auto-da-fi after a meal of gooseberry-tart, which had disagreed with him, is a subject for an historical picture. Frederick the Great is another illustration of the rule. Though he covdd dine on a cup of chocolate in war time, he loved good eating and drinking, and undoubtedly hastened his death by refusing to conform in any way to proper rales of diet. “The King,” wrote Mirabeau, who was in Berlin at the time, “eats everyday of tenortwelve dishes at dinner, each very higlily seasoned ; besides, at breakfast and supper, bread and butter covered with salted tongue and pepper. We are at the last scene.” No wonder. A short time before a gentleman dined with Frederick, when an eelpie was brought to table which he declared was so hot “ that it looked as if it had been baked in hell.” The king was immoderately fond of these eel-pies, peppered to excess. But about six weeks before his death we have the record of a breakfast such as a sick man has rarely eaten. Our authority is again Mirabeau. “On the 4th of July, when the doctor,” the celebrated Zimmerman from Hanover, “ saw the king in the afternoon, all had again changed for the worse. He had applied himself to public business from halfpast three in the morning till seven. He then ate for his breakfast a plate of sweetmeats, composed of sugar, white of eggs, and sour cream : then strawberries, cherries, and cold meat.” Frederick’s illness was dropsy. He died on the 17th of August, 1786. Every schoolboy will remember the parallel of the English king who died of too many lampreys. King John, too, is said to have died of a surfeit of peaches and new ale. The verdict of modern epicures will probably be, “ Serve him right.” Most of the English kings, we suspect, were fair trencher-men, as most of them were also men of ability. There is a curious anecdote of Henry VII. bearing on this subject. The king had been out hunting in the neighborhood of Windsor. Hia eagerness in the pursuit of the chase had carried him out' of sight and hearing of his retinue. Night was falling ; return to the castle that day was impossible, for close at hand lay the Abbey of Heading. Thither accordingly the king turned his steps. Hia habit was simple, and the good monks took him: for one of the royal foresters, whilst Henry, for reasons of his own, did not care to undeceive them. He was hospitably entertained, and the lord abbot looked on with an approving smile at the hearty performance of his guest. At last he said, “ Truly I would give his grace your master the half of my revenues for so good an appetite.” Three days passed, the abbot was suddenly arrested in the king’s name, and hurried to the Tower, where a diet of bread and water was assigned him. The end of the story may be imagined. Before a month was over the abbot had recovered an excellent appetite for beef and beer. But the tale is obviously apocryphal. Even a Tudor could not have arrested a mitred abbot in this summary fashion. From Henry VIII.’s pictures we may safely infer that his appetite was not bad. Descending to the Stuarts, we find Henrietta .Maria, at her first banquet in England, eating pheasant on a Friday, notwithstanding the signs and even open remonstrances of her French confessor. Poor girl ! she was scarcely seventeen, and the sea passage had probably given her an appetite. Her estimable son, King Charles 11. of glorious memory, delighted in eggs and ambergris, of which wo may hope he partook moderately. His death was supposed by some to have been occasioned by poison administered in this his favorite dish. William 111., the saviour of our liberties, both ate and drank more than was good for him. He loved to sit many hours at table ; dinner was his chief recreation. Nothing must interfere with his enjoyment ; the Princess Anne might look wistfully at that dish of young peas, but she looked in vain, for the King ate them all, and never even offered her a spoonful. She revenged herself by calling the deliverer “ Caliban.”