“’Tis curious what antipathies some people have to particular kinds of food. I have read of a man who was always seized with a fit when he tried to swallow a piece of meat,” said a Mr. Knowall.
“Nature evidently intended him for a vegetarian.”
“I have heard of another who was made ill if he ever ate any mutton,” continued the gentleman; “and of a man who always had an attack of the gout a few hours after eating fish. In fact, the celebrated Erasmus could not smell fish without being thrown into a fever; Count d’Armstadt never failed to go off in a faint if he knowingly or unknowingly partook of any dish containing the slightest modicum of olive oil; the learned Scaliger would shudder in every limb on beholding water-cresses; and Vladisiaus, of Poland, would fly at the sight of apples.”
“I read once of a lady who, if she ventured to taste lobster salad at a dancing party, would, before she could return to the ball-room, be covered with ugly blotches and her peace of mind destroyed for that evening,” I remarked.
“The whole question of food is an interesting one,” said Mr. Knowall.
“Do you mean with regard to the sumptuary laws of other days?” queried the law student.
“Yes. You remember that in the days of the Plantagenets the Houses of Parliament solemnly resolved that no man, of what state or condition soever he might be, should have at dinner or supper, or any other time, more than two courses, and each of two sorts of victual at the utmost, be it of flesh or fish, with the common sorts of potage, without sauce or any sort of victuals. And the eating of flesh of any kind during Lent and on Fridays and Saturdays, was punished by a fine of ten shillings, or imprisonment for ten days;[412] and in the days of Queen Bess the fine was increased to £3 and the term of imprisonment to three months; but if any one had three dishes of sea-fish on his table he might have one of flesh also.”[413]
“Did Elizabeth do this from any religious motive?” asked a young divine.
“Oh, dear, no. The statute expressly says that the eating of fish is not necessary for the saving of the soul of man. In the days of bluff old King Hal, Archbishop Cranmer commanded that no clergyman should have more than three blackbirds in a pie unless he was a bishop and then he might have four, but he allowed himself and his brother of York to have six.”
“When then, pray, did the fashion of having ‘four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie’ come into vogue?” asked my wife, who had a good memory for infantile rhymes.