THE TABLE OF THE ANCIENT AND MODERN EGYPTIANS.
If neither the grave of the Pharaohs nor physiology will, nor Dr. Hincke nor Chevalier Bunsen can, reveal to us the secret of the origin of the Egyptians, we, at all events, know that they were majestically-minded with respect to the table. The science of living was well understood by them; and the science of killing was splendidly rewarded; seeing that the soldiery, besides liberal pay, allowance of land, and exemption from tribute, received daily five pounds of bread, two of meat, and a quart of wine. With such rations they ought not to have been beaten by the Persians, when the latter had so degenerated, that their almost sole national boast was, that they could drink deeper than any other men, without seeming half so drunk. The Egyptians, too, were tolerably stout hands, and heads to boot, at the wine-pot; and there were few among even their Kings who, like the King of Castile, would have choked of thirst, because the grand butler was not by to hand the cup.
The pulse and fruits of Egypt, the fish of the Nile, the corn waving in its fields, which needed neither sun nor rain to exhibit productiveness,—all these were the envy, and partly the support, of surrounding nations. The corn was especially prized; and a reported threat of St. Athanasius to obstruct the importation of Egyptian corn into Constantinople, threw the Emperor Constantine into a fit of mingled fright, fever, and fury.
An Egyptian Squire commonly possessed a hundred or two cows and oxen, three hundred rams, four times that number of goats, and five times that number of swine, for the supply of his own little household. The apartments in the mansions of these gentlemen were beautifully painted, and were furnished with tables, chairs, and couches which have supplied models for the upholstery of modern times. They were lovers of music, and willingly suspended conversation at their feasts, in order to listen to the “concord of sweet sounds.”
Cleopatra was but a febrile creature; but she sat down with good appetite, and love in her eyes, to the banquet given by Antony, at which fifteen whole boars smoked upon the board. But Cleopatra, frail and fragile, like many thin people, ate heartily; and when she herself treated Cæsar, it was with such a banquet that slaves died to procure it, and the guests who were present wondered at the rarities of which they partook. There was every thing there that gastronomy could think of, except mutton,—an exception in favour of the divine Ammon with the ram-like head. I believe that even roast beef and plum-pudding were not lacking; for these delicacies were popular in Thebes, as was broiled and salted goose, with good brown stout, strong barley-wine, to cheer the spirits and assist digestion.
Excessively proud, too, were the old Egyptians of their culinary ability. When the Egyptians, under their King, attacked Ochus, Sovereign of Persia, the former were thoroughly beaten, and their Monarch was captured. Ochus treated him as courteously as the Black Prince did John of France, and invited him to his own table, at the simplicity of which the Egyptian laughed outright. “Prince,” said the uncourteous captive, “if you would really like to know how happy Kings should feed, just let my cooks—if you have caught the rascals, as you have me—prepare you a true Egyptian supper.” Ochus consented, enjoyed himself amazingly at the banquet, and then, turning to his Egyptian prisoner, punished him by saying, “Why, what a sorry fool art thou, whose ambition has lost thee such repasts, and reduced thee to henceforth envy, as thou wilt, the moderate meals that suffice us honest Persians!” The implied threat was worse than the sentiment.
The dinner-table of the Egyptians was sometimes covered with a linen cloth imitating palm-leaves, sometimes left uncovered. Plates and knives, but not forks, were in common use. In place of the latter were short-handled spoons of gold, silver, ivory, tortoise-shell, or alabaster. The dining-table was circular: ornamented rolls of wheaten bread were placed before each guest; and supplies of the same were heaped in gay-looking baskets on the side-board, where also were kept the wine, the water, ewer, and napkins, which slaves, fair or swarthy, Greek or Negro, were ready to present at the bidding of the guests.
Previous to sitting down to the repast, the company put a spur to their appetite, and a cordial to their stomach, in the shape of pungent vegetables or strong liqueurs. Glasses for beer, decanters and goblets for wine, appear among the ancient pictorial illustrations of Egyptian table-furniture. It would seem, too, from the position of those at table, that they rose from their chairs to challenge each other to drink, to propose toasts or healths, or to inflict speeches upon the vexed ears of compulsory listeners.
In these “counterfeit presentments” of Egyptian life may be seen the entire science of epicureanism, and its practical application put into action. The poultry-yard, the slaughter-houses, the markets and the kitchen, are so graphically depicted, that we see at once, that the art of making life comfortable was one most profoundly respected by the ancient and mysterious people. The selecting, purchasing, and killing are vividly portrayed. The cooking is carried on in a large bronze caldron, on a tripod, over a fire, which is stirred by an under-cook, with a poker that may have been bought any day at Rippon and Burton’s. The butcher is there, too, in order decently to dissect the fowls; and our ancient friend carries before him the identical steel for sharpening his knife, which may be seen any day hanging from the waists of the butchers of London. There is a pastrycook, also, in one of these “civil monuments of Egypt,” who is carrying a tray of tartlets on his head; and to the tray is appended the inscription signifying “one thousand,” which probably means, that this “Birch, Pyramid-place, Cairo,” drives such a trade, that he makes and sells a thousand tarts or a thousand varieties of them daily.
A dinner fresco, in a tomb at Thebes, shows us an entertainment given by a naval officer to some of his professional brethren. This fresco is described as being in compartments, and, perhaps, the most curious is that in which “you see on one side the arrival of an aristocratic guest, in his chariot, attended by a train of running footmen, one of whom hastens forward to announce his arrival by a knock at the door, sufficient to satisfy the critical ear, and rouse the somnolent obesity, of the sleepiest and fattest hall-porter in Grosvenor Square. The other compartment presents you with a coup-d’œil of the poultry-yard, shambles, pantry, and kitchen; and is completed by a side view of a novel incident. A grey-headed mendicant, attended by his faithful dog, and who might pass for Ulysses at his palace-gate, is receiving, from the hands of a deformed, but charitable, menial, a bull’s head, and a draught of that beer, for the invention of which we are beholden to the Thebans.”