We close this singularly incomplete list of the ancient polyphagists by adding that the Pharsalians[XXIX_13] and the Thessalians[XXIX_14] were redoubtable eaters, and that the Egyptians consumed a prodigious quantity of bread.[XXIX_15]
In more modern times, some men have acquired, by the energy of their hunger, an illustration they would have vainly demanded from their genius or their virtues. The Emperor Claudius sat down to table at all hours and in any place. One day, when he was dispensing justice according to his own fashion in the market-place of Augustus, his olfactory nerves scented the delicious odour of a feast which exhaled from one of the neighbouring temples. It was the priests of Mars, who were merry-making at the expense of the good souls in the surrounding locality. The glutton emperor immediately left his judgment-seat, and, without any further ceremony, went and asked them for a knife and fork.[XXIX_16] Never, no, never, adds the biographer of this prince, did he leave a repast until he was distended with food and soaked with drink, and then only to sleep. Yes, the ignoble Cæsar slept; but still, the “peacock’s feather,” an unseemly invention of Roman turpitude, was called into requisition to prepare the monarch for new excesses.[XXIX_17]
Galba could taste nothing if he was not served with inconceivable profusion. His stomach imposed limits upon him, but his eyes knew none; and when he had gloated to his heart’s content upon the magnificent spectacle of innumerable viands for which the universe had been ransacked, he would have the imperial dessert taken slowly round the table, and then heaped up to a prodigious height before the astonished guests.[XXIX_18]
Vitellius, the boldest liver, perhaps, of the whole imperial crew, and the most active polyphagist of past times, caused himself to be invited the same day to several senatorial families. This deplorable honour often caused their ruin, for each repast cost not less than 400,000 sesterces (£3,200). The intrepid Vitellius was equal to the whole, thanks to the peacock’s feather, which, doubtless, was cursed more than once by the unfortunate victims of his dreadful gluttony.[XXIX_19]
True, this poor prince was continually tormented with a hunger that no aliment seemed capable of satisfying. In the sacrifices, like the Harpies of whom Virgil speaks,[XXIX_20] he took the half-roasted viands from the altars, and disputed the sacred cakes with the gods. As he passed through the streets he seized the smoking-hot food spread out before the shops and public-houses; he did not even disdain the disgusting scraps that a miserable plebeian had gnawed the evening before, and which a hunger-stricken slave would have hardly contested with him.[XXIX_21]
Such were the masters of the world, the proud Cæsars! before whom haughty Rome bowed the head and trembled, and from whom it basely implored a smile, up to that day when some soldiers, tired of their shameful obedience, kicked the imperial corpse into the Tiber, after having mutilated it in presence of the populace, who crowded joyously around the Gemoniæ.[XXIX_22]
These terrific examples of insatiable voracity have become rare and obscure. A few isolated facts may perhaps be met with at very distant periods, which remind us of the polyphagic celebrities of Greece and Italy. There are, however, two which would have merited the attention of Vitellius himself.
The ingenuous Fuller[XXIX_23] speaks of a man, named Nicholas Wood, to whom the county of Kent proudly claims the honour of having given birth, who once eat a whole sheep at one meal. One day three dozen of pigeons were placed before him, of which he left only the bones. Another day, being at Lord Wootton’s, and having a good appetite, he devoured eighty-four rabbits and eighteen yards of black-pudding for his breakfast. We leave to Fuller the responsibility of the figures. Any how, the brave Nicholas Wood must have been a vigorous trencher-man!
The second anecdote is from Berchoux:—
Marshal Villars had a house-porter who was an enormous eater. “Franz,” said he, one day, “tell me, now, how many loins you could eat?” “Ah! my lord, as for loins, not many: five or six at most.” “And how many legs of mutton?” “Ah! as for legs of mutton, not many: seven or eight perhaps.” “And fatted pullets?” “Ah! as for pullets, my lord, not many: not more than a dozen.” “And pigeons?” “Ah! as for pigeons, not many: perhaps forty—fifty at most, according to the appetite.” “And larks?” “Ah! as for that, my lord—little larks—for ever, my lord, for ever!”[XXIX_24]