Part 27

Among the legends of the Rhine connected with my present subject of wine, there is one which is worth mentioning. The great Karloman, who loved good liquor, bequeathed to the brotherhood of Monks at Rheinfeld a marvellous and covetable butt of wine, which had not only the merit of being of first-rate quality, but which never decreased, though it was continually running at the spigot! This wine was for the use of the brethren; but the good Emperor also left a sum of money which he desired should be spent in treating visitors to the monastery with good Rhenish wine. When a weary traveller claimed the hospitality of the Monks, he was immediately conducted to an inner apartment. Here he was invested with the collar of Karloman, and gravely informed that, it being necessary that he should be baptized, he had only to say whether he preferred that the ceremony should be performed with wine or with water. If, like an honest fellow, he selected wine, he was gently constrained to swallow three monster bumpers of Muscatel. He was then crowned with a parcel-gilt coronet, and so became installed one of the jolly Knaves of St. Goar. There were some privileges attached to this dignity; among others, was the right to fish on the summit of the Lurley Berg, where there is no water; and of hunting on the sand-banks of the Rhine, where there is not safe footing for a sparrow. The poor temperate wight, on the other hand, who preferred the modest medium of water for the ceremony of his baptism, was proclaimed a blind Heathen, and was immediately drenched to the skin, from outpouring buckets of water that were showered upon him in all directions. Such was the solemnity of the Hänsel, as instituted by Karloman. This Emperor’s affection for the Rhine and its vicinity was as strong as that of an old gastronomic English Bishop for his native island. The episcopal attachment is exemplified in the story of the Prelate’s last moments, when his faithful servant John endeavoured to encourage him. “Be comforted, my Lord,” said John: “your Lordship is going to a better place.” “Ah, John!” said the Bishop, “there is no place like old England!”

There was a practice among the Romans with regard to wine, which should win the respect of all our Inns of Court. All law business was suspended during vintage time. “_Sanè_,” says Minucius Felix, “_et ad vindemiam feriæ judiciorum curam relaxaverunt_;” and this was no poor holiday: it was the Long Vacation of the Roman bar, extending, as the Rev. Hubert Ashton Holden remarks, in his admirable edition of the “_Octavius_,” from August 22nd to October 15th. And here let me remark, parenthetically, how much preferable it would be to make a school-book of the “_Octavius_” of Minucius Felix, so rich in early Christian information, and so pure in its Latinity, rather than pursue the old course of letting boys read Ovid and similar authors. The Abbé Gaume, in his “_Ver Rongeur_,” traces all the evils by which society is afflicted, to the study of erotic Latin and Greek authors. The Abbé rushes from one extreme into its opposite, and wishes to confine our sons to the mawkish Latinity of the Lives of the Saints, and the Pastorals (so unlike the Eclogues) of Bishops. The work of Minucius Felix just occupies the safe medium of the two remote points,--erotic Heathenism, and Monkish mendacity, told with much violation of grammar. It is a book that ought to be on the list of works to be studied in every locality devoted to the education of “ingenuous youth.”

It is hardly necessary to write of the effects of wine on the bodily economy. They are too familiarly known. There was an old adage that--

“He who goes to bed, and goes to bed sober, Falls as the leaves do, and dies in October; But he who goes to bed, and goes to bed mellow, Lives as he ought to do, and dies a good fellow.”

This is poor poetry, worse sentiment, and deadly counsel. Half the evils that torture men arise from intemperance; and, next to excess in alcohol, immoderation in wine is the most fatal practice to which humanity can bind itself slave. An Arab says of his horse, that the horse’s belly is the measure of its corn. Men are too apt to allow a similar metage with respect to themselves in the matter of wine. It were safer to remember that we cannot drink too little, and that we soon may be drinking too much. Panard very justly says,--

“_Se piquer d’être grand buveur, Est un abus qui je déplore. Fuyons ce titre peu flatteur; C’est un honneur qui déshonore. Quand on boît trop, on s’assoupit, Et l’on tombe en délire: Buvons pour avoir de l’esprit, Et non pour le détruire._”

As good advice, more eloquently delivered, is given by our own Herbert, a poet next to Shakespeare for felicity of expression. Our reverend minstrel and monitor says,--

“Drink not the third glass, which thou canst not tame When once it is within thee, but before May’st rule it as thou list; and pour the shame, Which it would pour on thee, upon the floor. It is most just to throw that on the ground, Which would throw _me_ there, if I keep the round.”

And again:--

“If reason move not, gallants, quit the room; (All in a shipwreck shift their several way;) Let not a common ruin thee entomb; Be not a beast in courtesy, but stay, Stay at the third cup, or forego the place: Wine, above all things, does God’s stamp deface.”

This is admirable counsel, logic, and theology. The people who least stood in need of such a triad of excellent aids to good living were the Egyptians, at that particular period of their career when they confined themselves to drinking

“Beer small as comfort, dead as charity.”

And this may naturally lead us to look in, for a moment, on both the ancient and the modern Egyptians, when seated at table. But, previous to doing so, there is a little philological matter I would fain settle, as far as so indifferent an authority may presume to do so, and which may interest, not merely wine-bibbers, but etymologists, and zealous correspondents to “Notes and Queries.” It may be very briefly discussed.

I have noticed, in another page, the fact that nearly all our old-fashioned drinking phrases are but corruptions of foreign terms. A “carouse,” for instance, is derived from “_gar aus_,” “altogether empty,” sufficiently indicative of what a reveller was to do with his full glass. There is one--a rather vulgar term--of the origin of which, however, I have never heard any account. But I think I may have discovered it in a little German poem, by Pfarrius, called “_Der Trunk aus dem Stiefel_,” and which, thus roughly done into English, may serve to show

THE ORIGIN OF “BOOSEY.”

In the Rheingraf’s hall were of Knights a score, And they drained their goblets o’er and o’er, And the torches they flung a lurid glow On the Knights who were drinking there below.

“Ho, ho!” said the Rheingraf, “Sir Knights, I find, Our courier has left a boot behind; He who can empty it off at a breath,-- The Hufflesheim village is his till death.”

Then laughing, he filled the boot to the rim, Till the bright red wine flowed over the brim; And said, as he mark’d their sparkling eyes,-- “Good luck to you, Knights--you know the prize!”

Then Johann von Sponheim sat silent by, But pushed his neighbour to rise and try; And Meinhart, his neighbour, could nothing do But scowl at the boot, and sit silent too.

Old Florsheim, he nervously stroked his beard; And Kunz von Stromberg spoke never a word; And even the giant Chaplain stared At the monster boot, as though he were scared.

Then Boos von Waldeck did loudly call,-- “Here, hand me that thimble!” and “Health to all!” And then, in one breath, to the very last drain, He drank, and fell back on his seat again,

And said, “O, Sir Rheingraf, it were my mind, Had the fellow his other boot left behind, To empty that, too, at a breath; and take For my prize Norheim village, near the lake.”

Then loud laughed they all at Waldeck’s good jest,-- Of all landless tipplers, till then, the best; But the Rheingraf, he kept his knightly word,-- And Boos of the Boot was Hufflesheim’s lord!

If therein be not the origin of “boosey,” why, let the lexicographers look to it. But my readers will have had enough of these uncouth names. I have now to introduce them to hosts with names equally unmusical; but, luckily, we have now to do more with acts than appellations, and therewith pass we to golden Egypt, and her well-spread boards. I will only first add another word respecting spirits, as a beverage. All authorities are agreed, that reason has no more deadly foe than alcohol. The effects of the latter are well described by Dr. Winslow, whom we have previously quoted in the matter of mental dietetics,--a gentleman who might, with justice, have given a plump denial to the remark of Macbeth, had it been addressed to Dr. Winslow, when the royal patient uncivilly told his medical adviser, “Thou canst not minister to a mind diseased.” Dr. Winslow says: “The alcoholic elements introduced into the blood, and brought into immediate contact with the tissues of different organs, will derange the functions which they are severally destined to perform; and the amount and character of the mischief so produced will correspond with, and be modified by, the peculiarities of their individual organic structure. With these facts before us, when we consider the delicate structure of the brain, as revealed to us by the progress of microscopic anatomy, we must be prepared for the physical and mental derangement which must arise, either from the alcohol itself, or its elements, being brought into direct contact with the vesicular neurine or granular matter entering into the composition of its white and grey substance. According to our most recent physiological views, the vesicular matter is the source of nervous power, and associated, as the material instrument of the mind, with all its manifestations, whether in the simple exercise of perception, or the more complicated operations of the thinking principle. We are then to conceive the simple or organic structure dedicated to this high function brought into contact with irritating and noxious elements. The result must obviously be a disturbance in the manifestations of the mind proportioned to the organic derangements so produced; and without, therefore, taking a materialistic view of the changes which take place, the obliteration of some, and the derangement of other of the intellectual faculties, are hereby satisfactorily accounted for. It is certain, that when the circulation in the grey matter of the convolutions is retarded by congestion, or accelerated by unwonted stimulation, there is a corresponding state of stupor or mental activity, amounting even to delirium, produced; and, indeed, it has been suggested, by some of our most eminent physiologists, that every idea of the mind is associated with a corresponding change in some part, or parts, of the vesicular surface.” And if they who sit “amid bumpers brightening,” could only hold this truth in sober memory, there would be less imbibed at night, and more sunshine in their souls on the morrow. And now let us pass to the cradle of wisdom, the ancient Misraim, where, despite the national boast, folly was, perhaps, as much deified as in any locality upon earth.

Yes, let us now to ancient Egypt, where, as good old Herbert so finely expresses it,--

“Men did sow Gardens of gods, which every year did grow Fresh and fine deities. They were at great cost Who for a god clearly a sallet lost! O, what a thing is man devoid of grace, Adoring garlic with a humble face! Begging his food of that which he may eat, Starving the while he worshippeth his meat! Who makes a root a god, how low is he, If God and man be severed infinitely! What wretchedness can give him any room, Whose house is foul, while he adores his broom?”

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.”

The story of Mycerinus, the Egyptian King, is grandly told by Mr. Arnold, in his popular volume of poems; and, succinctly, by Herodotus. An incident of the story connects it with our subject. Mycerinus was persecuted by the gods for rendering Egypt happy, instead of oppressing it, like his predecessors, and as the oracles had declared it should be oppressed for many years to come. In punishment for such impious piety, as his offence may be called, poor Mycerinus was told by the oracle at Buto, that he should live only six years longer. “When Mycerinus heard this, seeing that his sentence was now pronounced against him, he ordered a great number of lamps to be made, and, having lighted them, whenever night came on, he drank and enjoyed himself, never ceasing night or day, roaming about the marshes and groves, wherever he could hear of places most suited for pleasure; and he had recourse to this artifice for the purpose of convicting the oracle of falsehood, that by turning the nights into days, he might live twelve years instead of six.” Poor fool! He probably succeeded in his object, but after a sorry fashion. It may be good poetry to say that--

“The best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to take a few hours from night, my dear;”

but it is bad in principle, and universally unsuccessful in practice.

A recent describer of his travels in Egypt has said, that nothing is so easy as to show that the Egyptians gave jovial banquets within the sepulchral hall of tombs. I think that nothing would be so difficult as to prove this. The nearest approach to it would be the case of the skeleton that was carried about at Egyptian banquets, the bearer, at the same time, warning the guests that, eat, drink, and laugh as they might, to _that_ “complexion they must come” at last. The assertion, however, was probably made, in part, to excuse a barbarous festival, at which the writer was present, in the tombs of Eilythyias. The _locale_ was one of the huge halls, whose colossal columns serve to support the huger mountain that is above. The dinner, we are told, was laid out between the columns, with strings of small lamps suspended in festoons over head.

The civilized and Christian ladies and gentlemen who were the guests at this feast, broke up the coffins of the pagan and barbarian Kings and Queens, in order to procure wood to boil their vegetables! They laughed, joked, and sang joyous songs, and wondered what the buried majesty of Misraim would say, could it burst its cerements, and see northern men of unknown tongues drinking Champagne at its august feet. And if, for a moment, a reflecting guest contrasted the savage revelry with the ensigns hung out by the King of Terrors to intimate his irresistible dominion over the company,--why, reflection was soon banished by the appearance of the Awalim and Ghawazi girls, whom strong coffee and more potent brandy had primed for their lascivious dancing. “O Father Abraham! what these Christians are!”