George III. lived like an ascetic, for fear of corpulence and gout; and light diet was one of the grand fundamentals in his idea of health. In “A Sketch of their Majesties’ Domestic Life at Kew during the Summer Season” of 1775, in the Annual Register, it is said: “His Majesty feeds chiefly on vegetables, and drinks but little wine. The Queen is what many private gentlewomen would call whimsically abstemious; for, at a table covered with dainties, she prefers the plainest and simplest dish, and seldom eats of more than two things at a meal.”
The excellent health which George III. long enjoyed, as well as his exemption from the obesity which was constitutional in his family was once, in the course of a conversation with Lord Mansfield, attributed by him to the following circumstance. He happened to pay a visit to his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, when the conversation turned on the Duke’s increased corpulency. “It was a constitutional malady,” remarked his Royal Highness, from which on reaching middle age he could scarcely be absolved. But temperance and abstinence, he said, were the best remedies, and if neglected, he added, “depend upon it that nothing can prevent your Majesty arising to my size.” Such was the impression made upon the King’s mind that, as he assured Lord Mansfield, from that moment he resolved to check his tendency to obesity by inuring himself to habits of the strictest temperance.[36] And many years afterwards, congratulating himself on his excellent health, he remarked: “The fault of his constitution was a tendency to excessive fat, which, however, he kept in order by the most vigorous exercise and by the strictest attention to a simple diet.” Mrs. Delaney, one of the company, commending him for his remarkable forbearance, he exclaimed, “No, no; I only prefer eating plain and little to growing diseased and infirm.”[37] It would seem the pet potage of George III. was a rich vermicelli soup, with a very few green chevril leaves in it—a preparation which with his more epicurean successor was also equally a favourite.
Carème, a lineal descendant of the celebrated chef of Leo X., who received the name of Jean de Carème—Jack of Lent—for a soup-maigre which he invented for the Pope, was induced, by persevering solicitations and the promise of a salary of £1000 a year, to become chef to George IV., then Regent, but he left him at the end of a few months. The Emperors of Russia and Austria then made new advances to him, but in vain, for Carème accepted an engagement with Baron Rothschild of Paris. But, however great an epicure George IV. might be, he was of opinion that a roast neck of mutton is a dinner fit for a prince. When Prince of Wales he happened on one occasion to partake of bubble-and-squeak at a bachelor’s table in Shropshire, this homely dish so pleasing him that it was afterwards very often seen at Carlton House. A roast fowl was the favourite dish of William IV., a black bottle of sherry being uniformly placed on the table near his Majesty.
It is evident that the gastronomic tastes of royalty, at one time or another, have been diverse and numerous. The late Duke of Cambridge, being on a visit to Belvoir Castle for the celebration of its owner’s birthday, was shown the bill of fare for the day, skilfully arranged by an admirable chef, and on being asked whether there was anything else that he fancied, replied, “Yes, a roast pig and an apple dumpling.” Messengers were at once despatched in all directions, and at length a pig was happily found, notwithstanding the season.
A wild boar’s head from the Black Forest would elevate the plainest dinner into dignity, and the late King of Hanover was clearly of this opinion, for he used to send one to each of his most esteemed friends in England every Christmas; and it was a test of political consistency to remain long upon his list, for “all who abandoned his Majesty’s somewhat rigid creed of orthodoxy in Church and State were periodically weeded out.”
Queen Victoria was most simple in her diet, luncheon being her favourite meal, at which we are told a sirloin of beef and a boiled chicken generally appeared on the bill of fare. Of Scotch cookery she was very fond, and was even known to partake of the national dish of “haggis.”
CHAPTER V
CURIOUS FADS OF ROYALTY
It is recorded how a certain Spaniard, who once attempted to assassinate a king, Ferdinand of Spain, on being put on the rack could give no other reason for his strange conduct but an inveterate antipathy which he had taken to the King as soon as he saw him:—
“The cause which to that impelled him
Was, he ne’er loved him since he first beheld him.”