A King Bee: Difference between revisions - Forking around with history

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The Polish political scene at the time was divided into two main factions, with different ideas for Poland’s foreign policy and its relations with Europe’s two major powers – the Habsburg Monarchy and France. The pro-French party initially supported two candidates for the throne vacated by John Casimir’s abdication – Prince Louis Bourbon, better known as the Grand Condé, and Prince Philip William Wittelsbach, Count Palatine of Neuburg. The pro-Habsburg faction, on the other hand, endorsed Duke Charles Leopold of Lorraine. The Grand Condé, famous as an accomplished military commander, was perhaps best suited for the job; which is probably why he was also the first to drop out of the race. As always in Polish politics, negative selection prevailed. It was now down to two contenders, neither of whom spared the expenses needed to bribe the senators (promises to the nobility could be made for free).

Where two are fighting, the third wins, as a Polish proverb goes. Eventually, the nobility got tired of the endless bickering among the senators and decided to take up the idea advocated by Crown Underchancellor Andrzej Olszowski to elect a so-called “Piast”. House Piast had been Poland’s first royal dynasty, back when the throne was still hereditary and not elective, but the idea was not to elect someone with actual Piast roots in his family tree (if this had been the case, then Charles Leopold would have stood a better chance, thanks to Cymburgis of Masovia, a Piast duchess who was his ~~great<sup>8</sup>~~-grandmother in two different lines; besides, the last actual Piast, George William of Brieg, was still alive). The idea was simply to elect a native Pole rather than any of the foreign princes. The only question was, who specifically was to become this “Piast” king?

Where two are fighting, the third wins, as a Polish proverb goes. Eventually, the nobility got tired of the endless bickering among the senators and decided to take up the idea advocated by Crown Underchancellor Andrzej Olszowski to elect a so-called “Piast”. House Piast had been Poland’s first royal dynasty, back when the throne was still hereditary and not elective, but the idea was not to elect someone with actual Piast roots in his family tree (if this had been the case, then Charles Leopold would have stood a better chance, thanks to Cymburgis of Masovia, a Piast duchess who was his great×8-grandmother in two different lines; besides, the last actual member of the Piast dynasty, George William of Brieg, was still alive at the time). The idea was simply to elect a native Pole rather than any of the foreign princes. The only question was, who specifically was to become this “Piast” king?

And this is when, according to the legend, a swarm of honey bees arrived in the election field and sat on the Polish-born Prince Michael and the nobles concluded that if the bees had already made their pick, then the rest was just formality. All the senators could do was to agree with the choice made by the bugs and the nobility, and thus a completely astonished Michael was proclaimed king.

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Two years after losing the Polish royal election, the Grand Condé suffered an even greater loss – his court chef, the famous François Vatel, committed suicide. It was on the third day of a great banquet, which Condé was giving to King Louis XIV at the castle of Chantilly. It was a Friday, a lean day, and the transport of fish was running late; for Vatel, who was responsible for managing the whole operation, it was a dishonour which only falling on his sword (three times!) could wash away.

Who knows, maybe if Condé had become king of Poland, then Vatel would have lived longer? Maybe he would have made his career at the Polish royal court and the invention he is traditionally credited for – sweetened whipped cream – would have been known as ''crème Varsovie'' rather than ''crème Chantilly''? Perhaps he would have met Stanisław Czerniecki{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}, whom historian Karol Estreicher has dubbed “the Polish Vatel”? Czerniecki, author of the first cookbook printed in Polish, had served Prince Michael Wiśniowiecki for some time, before getting a job as the head chef to the Princes Lubomirski. The political rivalry between the Grand Condé and Prince Michael is one thing, but imagine how much more fascinating a culinary duel between Vatel and Czerniecki would have been!

Who knows, maybe if Condé had become king of Poland, then Vatel would have lived longer? Maybe he would have made his career at the Polish royal court and the invention he is traditionally credited for – sweetened whipped cream – would have been known as ''crème Varsovie'' rather than ''crème Chantilly''? Perhaps he would have met Stanisław Czerniecki{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}, whom historian Karol Estreicher has dubbed “the Polish Vatel”? Czerniecki, author of the <s>first</s><ref>Turns out, it wasn't the first after all. See: [[Even Older Polish Cookery for Complete Beginners]] (note added on 13 May 2024).</ref> cookbook printed in Polish, had served Prince Michael Wiśniowiecki for some time, before getting a job as the head chef to the Princes Lubomirski. The political rivalry between the Grand Condé and Prince Michael is one thing, but imagine how much more fascinating a culinary duel between Vatel and Czerniecki would have been!

[[File:Uczta koronacyjna.jpg|thumb|King Michael’s coronation banquet]]

@@ Line 130: / Line 130: @@
 The Polish political scene at the time was divided into two main factions, with different ideas for Poland’s foreign policy and its relations with Europe’s two major powers – the Habsburg Monarchy and France. The pro-French party initially supported two candidates for the throne vacated by John Casimir’s abdication – Prince Louis Bourbon, better known as the Grand Condé, and Prince Philip William Wittelsbach, Count Palatine of Neuburg. The pro-Habsburg faction, on the other hand, endorsed Duke Charles Leopold of Lorraine. The Grand Condé, famous as an accomplished military commander, was perhaps best suited for the job; which is probably why he was also the first to drop out of the race. As always in Polish politics, negative selection prevailed. It was now down to two contenders, neither of whom spared the expenses needed to bribe the senators (promises to the nobility could be made for free).
-Where two are fighting, the third wins, as a&nbsp;Polish proverb goes. Eventually, the nobility got tired of the endless bickering among the senators and decided to take up the idea advocated by Crown Underchancellor Andrzej Olszowski to elect a&nbsp;so-called “Piast”. House Piast had been Poland’s first royal dynasty, back when the throne was still hereditary and not elective, but the idea was not to elect someone with actual Piast roots in his family tree (if this had been the case, then Charles Leopold would have stood a&nbsp;better chance, thanks to Cymburgis of Masovia, a&nbsp;Piast duchess who was his great<sup>8</sup>-grandmother in two different lines; besides, the last actual Piast, George William of Brieg, was still alive). The idea was simply to elect a&nbsp;native Pole rather than any of the foreign princes. The only question was, who specifically was to become this “Piast” king?
+Where two are fighting, the third wins, as a&nbsp;Polish proverb goes. Eventually, the nobility got tired of the endless bickering among the senators and decided to take up the idea advocated by Crown Underchancellor Andrzej Olszowski to elect a&nbsp;so-called “Piast”. House Piast had been Poland’s first royal dynasty, back when the throne was still hereditary and not elective, but the idea was not to elect someone with actual Piast roots in his family tree (if this had been the case, then Charles Leopold would have stood a&nbsp;better chance, thanks to Cymburgis of Masovia, a&nbsp;Piast duchess who was his great×8-grandmother in two different lines; besides, the last actual member of the Piast dynasty, George William of Brieg, was still alive at the time). The idea was simply to elect a&nbsp;native Pole rather than any of the foreign princes. The only question was, who specifically was to become this “Piast” king?
 And this is when, according to the legend, a&nbsp;swarm of honey bees arrived in the election field and sat on the Polish-born Prince Michael and the nobles concluded that if the bees had already made their pick, then the rest was just formality. All the senators could do was to agree with the choice made by the bugs and the nobility, and thus a&nbsp;completely astonished Michael was proclaimed king.
@@ Line 229: / Line 229: @@
 Two years after losing the Polish royal election, the Grand Condé suffered an even greater loss – his court chef, the famous François Vatel, committed suicide. It was on the third day of a&nbsp;great banquet, which Condé was giving to King Louis XIV at the castle of Chantilly. It was a&nbsp;Friday, a&nbsp;lean day, and the transport of fish was running late; for Vatel, who was responsible for managing the whole operation, it was a&nbsp;dishonour which only falling on his sword (three times!) could wash away.
-Who knows, maybe if Condé had become king of Poland, then Vatel would have lived longer? Maybe he would have made his career at the Polish royal court and the invention he is traditionally credited for – sweetened whipped cream – would have been known as ''crème Varsovie'' rather than ''crème Chantilly''? Perhaps he would have met Stanisław Czerniecki{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}, whom historian Karol Estreicher has dubbed “the Polish Vatel”? Czerniecki, author of the first cookbook printed in Polish, had served Prince Michael Wiśniowiecki for some time, before getting a&nbsp;job as the head chef to the Princes Lubomirski. The political rivalry between the Grand Condé and Prince Michael is one thing, but imagine how much more fascinating a&nbsp;culinary duel between Vatel and Czerniecki would have been!
+Who knows, maybe if Condé had become king of Poland, then Vatel would have lived longer? Maybe he would have made his career at the Polish royal court and the invention he is traditionally credited for – sweetened whipped cream – would have been known as ''crème Varsovie'' rather than ''crème Chantilly''? Perhaps he would have met Stanisław Czerniecki{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}, whom historian Karol Estreicher has dubbed “the Polish Vatel”? Czerniecki, author of the <s>first</s><ref>Turns out, it wasn't the first after all. See: [[Even Older Polish Cookery for Complete Beginners]] (note added on 13 May 2024).</ref> cookbook printed in Polish, had served Prince Michael Wiśniowiecki for some time, before getting a&nbsp;job as the head chef to the Princes Lubomirski. The political rivalry between the Grand Condé and Prince Michael is one thing, but imagine how much more fascinating a&nbsp;culinary duel between Vatel and Czerniecki would have been!
 [[File:Uczta koronacyjna.jpg|thumb|King Michael’s coronation banquet]]