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.” Although, happily, such an exceptional case as this is almost unique, yet in a minor degree it illustrates a phase of character which is of almost universal application. Thus, for instance, going back to an early period, the Emperor Heraclius at the age of fifty-nine was seized with an unconquerable terror at the sight of the sea. On his return from his Syrian expedition he sojourned in the palace of Herea, on the shore of the Hellespont, and the story goes that the princes of Constantinople were compelled to span the strait with a bridge of boats, and protect it on both sides with planks and branches of trees, so that one could pass over it without seeing the water. Likewise, the Emperor Augustus was terribly afraid of lightning, and as a safeguard not only carried about his person a seal’s skin, but on the approach of a storm took shelter in an underground chamber.