Part 28

These tombs are full of instruction to those who can read them. They show us that the chief butler and cook--the “keeper of the drinks,” and the Prince (_sar_) of his cooks--were probably Princes of the blood of Pharaoh. In all pictorial representations of banquets, it is the eldest son who hands the viands to his father, the eldest daughter to the mother. The bill of fare of the trimestrial banquet of the dead, held in the noble hall of the tomb of Nahrai at Benihassan, is still extant. It is as long as that of a score of Lord Mayors’; and hundreds of men were fed from what remained. All the retainers of Nahrai, who was a Prince in Egypt a full century before the time of Joseph, were buried in the vaults beneath the hall; and every one who could claim kindred with them had a right to partake of the feast. The manner of service appears to have been after this fashion:--The youngest children of the house received the viands from the cooks, and those children passed them on to the elder, until they reached the first-born, who placed the dish at the feet of his sire, by whom a portion was cut off, which the daughters, according to their age, transferred from one to the other till it reached the separate table of their mother. All remained standing, at these festival-dinners, until the two seniors of the house had finished the first dishes of the repast. Portions from these were then served to the children, when the whole party sat down together; the children eating of the remains of the first dish, while “the governor” and his lady partook of the integral second; and so on, through a long service. On the wall of a tomb at Ghizeh,--that of Eimei, one of the Princes of the Saphis,--the bill of fare directs ninety-eight dishes to be placed, at once, on the table, at the fortnightly banquets which glad survivors held in honour of the departed, who appear to me always to enjoy an immense advantage over those whom they leave behind them.

But now let us look in upon the modern Egyptian. If he be the master of a house, while he is at ablutions and prayers, his wife is making his coffee; and it is to be hoped that she is allowed the privilege alluded to in the Augustinian sentiment, _orat qui laborat_. The cup of coffee and pipe, taken early, generally suffice the Egyptian till noon, at which hour comes the actual breakfast, usually consisting of bread, butter, eggs, cheese, clotted cream, or curdled milk, with, perhaps, a thin pastry, saturated with butter, folded like a pancake, and sprinkled with sugar. A dish of horse-beans (terrific dish!) sometimes adorns the table. They have been slowly simmering through a whole night in an earthen vessel, buried up to the neck in the hot ashes of an oven; and the sauce for this indigestible dish is linseed oil or butter, and, perhaps, a little lime-juice. Those to whom butter is difficult of procuring, or to whom good dinners are rarities, often make a meal, and are content, upon dry bread dipped in a mixture of salt, pepper, wild marjoram, with various other herbs, pungent seeds, and a quantity of chickpeas. The bread is dipped into this _ragoût_, and so eaten.

The supper is the principal meal in Egypt. The cooking is especially for this repast; and what remains is appropriated for the next day’s dinner, despite the apophthegm of Boileau, that--

“_Un dîner réchauffé ne vaut jamais rien._”

It is only an amiable _paterfamilias_ that dines with his wives and children; and, in truth, where the wife appears in the plural number, the husband can hardly expect a quiet meal. The washing before eating is almost of universal observation. The table is a round tray placed low, so that the squatters on the ground may conveniently eat thereat. Bread and limes are placed on the tray. The bread is round, as among the ancient Egyptians, and often serves as a plate. The spoons, too, are of the materials I have named in speaking of the older nation. The dishes are of tinned copper or china; and several are put upon the table at one time. Among the Turks, only _one_ dish appears at a time. Twelve persons, with one knee on the ground and the other (the right) raised, may sit round a tray three feet in diameter. Each guest tucks up his right sleeve, and prepares for his work, after imitating the master of the house in uttering a low _Bismillah_, “In the name of God.” The host sets the second example of commencing to eat; and the guests again follow the good precedent. Knives and forks are not used; spoons only for food like soups and rice. The thumb and two forefingers are the instruments otherwise employed; and they are employed delicately enough. Generally, a piece of bread is taken, doubled together, and dipped into the dish, so as to enclose the morsel of meat which the guest designs for himself, or, if it be a savoury bit, and _he_ be courteous, intended for presentation to his neighbour. The food is suited to such practices. It consists of stewed meats, with vegetables of endless variety, or of small morsels of mutton or lamb, roasted on skewers: clarified butter compensates for want of fat in the meat. A fowl is summarily torn asunder by two hands, either of the same person, or the right hands of two guests. Dexterous fellows, like our first-rate carvers, will “joint” a fowl with one hand. The Arabs do not use the left hand at all at table, because it is used for unclean purposes. The disjointing is easily done; and even a whole lamb, stuffed with pistachio nuts, may be pulled to pieces much more easily than we divide a chicken. Water-melons, sliced, set to cool, and watched, lest serpents should approach, and poison the dish by their breath, generally form, when in season, a part of an Egyptian meal,--a meal which usually closes with a dish of boiled rice, mixed with butter, salt, and pepper; but occasionally this dish is followed by a bowl of water, with raisins that have been boiled in it, and sugar added, with a little rose-water, to give it an odour of refinement. A bottle of six-year-old port is preferable.

As soon as each person has satisfied his appetite, he ceases, murmurs, “Praise be to God!” drinks his sweetened water, rises, and goes his way. They who drink wine, do it in private, or with confidential friends, call it “rum” to save their orthodoxy; and if a visitor call while this process is going on, the ready servant informs him that his master is abroad or in the harem. Sweet drinks and sherbets, approved by the Law and _the_ Prophet, are in common use, and pipes and prayer end “the well-spent day.”

Egyptian women have some little fancies connected with the table that may be mentioned. In order to achieve that proportion of obesity which constitutes the beautiful, they eat mashed beetles, and they chew frankincense and laudanum, to perfume the breath. The Egyptian peasantry live upon the very sparest of diets, not often being able to procure even rice. They, like the Bedouins, are, however, remarkable for strength and health; but an Egyptian or Bedouin diet would not produce the same results in an English climate.

It will have been observed, that in Egypt each man says his own “grace,” before and after meat, for himself. The same custom prevails in Servia. At table, instead of one person asking for a blessing on the food, each individual expresses, _in his own words_, (an improvement on the Egyptian plan,) his gratitude to the Supreme Being. In drinking, the toast or sentiment of the Servian is, “To the glory of God!” and a very excellent sentiment, only the Servian is apt to get very drunk over it. The Servian qualification for a chairman at a convivial party is, that he should be able to deliver an extempore prayer; and a very good qualification, provided it be not a mere formality, and that the spirit of prayer be the strongest spirit there. The combination, however, of Collects and conviviality reminds me of some strange parties at old-fashioned houses in our provincial towns, where comic songs are followed by discussions on the Millennium, and seed-cake and ginger wine season both.

I have spoken more of the achievements of Egyptian cookery, than of the quality of the cooks. The fact is, that it is far more easy to speak decidedly of the former, than of the latter. Mr. St. John describes the Arab cooks in Egypt as being great gastronomers, and serving up “their dishes in a style which could not have displeased Elagabalus himself!” Mr. Lane equally lauds their excellence, and the delicacy of the manner of eating. Herr Werne, on the other hand,--and he is a man of wide experience in this matter,--speaks very differently both of Turkish eating and Arab cooking in Egypt. Werne, indeed, speaks of the remote district of Bellad Sudam, rather than of Cairo and Alexandria; but his observations have an extensive application, nevertheless. He is disgusted with the general want of cleanliness; and he remarks, that “the cooks are dirtier in themselves, and more filthy in their dress, than any other class of people.” The dirty Arab cook is in a dirty kitchen, a dirty pipe ever in his mouth, and with the dirtiest of hands manipulating savoury preparations for the mouths of his masters. He knows little more than how to boil or roast meat, boil beans, and prepare vegetable dishes. Even the female slaves of the harem, who act as cooks to their lords, are remarkable for uncleanliness. “All the meat to be used for the dinner is sodden together in one huge caldron, and separated for arrangement in various dishes, all of which partake of general flavour, having been cooked together, and there is but scant nourishment in any of them.” The vegetables are described by him as being wretchedly cooked, and saturated with bad butter, or the water in which they have been boiled. The dishes are not larger than our plates; the plates, when such are used by the guests, about the size of our saucers: but “each guest at once plunges his hand into any or every dish that pleases him, and gropes about till he gets hold of the best bits, pulls them out, and swallows them. Very often a bite is only taken from the piece thus seized on, and the rest returned to the dish; but, in spite of the clean treatment it has undergone, it is again soon seized hold of by another, and, perchance, again similarly handled, till all is finally bolted. The Turks eat incredibly rapidly, as they bolt every thing, and keep cramming into the mouth more, ere the former mouthful has been swallowed; while a smacking of lips, and licking of sauce-dripping fingers, succeed, and proclaim their pleasure in the meal. Bread is generally to be found on the table, but neither salt, oil, vinegar, nor pepper; although, when they dine with Europeans, they show no dislike to highly-seasoned dishes or strong drinks. Although these dishes are numerous, they contain but little. If there are many courses, or more dishes than the table will hold at one time, the entertainer is ever busied making signs to the attendants which are to be removed; and not seldom the guest finds, that the very dish he was about to help himself from is carried off from under his very nose. The Pasha used often to amuse himself by playing tricks on his guests, by ordering off, with the utmost rapidity, those dishes he saw their longing eyes fixed on, ere their outstretched hands could convey any portion of them into their watering mouths. At first, in spite of the _pilau_, we never were quick enough to get sufficient to eat, not having been brought up to bolt our food; and that the Turks are so quickly satisfied, and by so little, is wholly owing to this bolting of their food, is undeniable; and this also produces the repeated eructations they so loudly and joyfully give vent to, as proving their high health and vigour.”

The Turks and Arabs of Egypt “chaw,” carrying their quid between the front teeth and upper lip. The blacks of Gesira mix tobacco and nitron, dissolving the latter in an infusion of the former. This they call “bucca;” and they take a mouthful of it at a time, which they keep rinsing over their teeth and gums, for, perhaps, a quarter of an hour, before they eject it. They have “bucca” parties, as we have tea-parties; and _then_ is the circle in the very highest state of enjoyment,--imbibing, gurgling, gargling, and ejecting,--and not a word uttered, except at the close, when the guests return thanks to their host “for this very delightful evening!”

Egypt was the locality wherein the saints of old especially shone with respect to their table arrangements, or their contempt for them; and these gentlemen fairly claim a due share of notice at our hands. So, now “for the Desert!”

THE DIET OF SAINTS.

Feasting, under certain circumstances, at certain seasons, and for certain ends, is undoubtedly sanctified by apostolical recommendation. The earlier fathers, however, say little on the subject. Clement of Alexandria mentions weekly fasts at Easter; and Tertullian, in an article especially recommending the observation, bitterly bewails that it has fallen into a general disuse. The Church of Alexandria also ordained a fast on Wednesdays and Fridays;--on Wednesday, because on that day Christ was betrayed; on Friday, because on that day he was crucified. In Alexandria too arose the saying, that the aspen-tree shook because it was the tree from which the wood for the cross was taken. The fasting generally consisted in abstaining from food until three o’clock in the afternoon, but a religious liberty was allowed, connected with its observance, until the sixth century, when a Council of Orleans decreed excommunication against all who did not fast according to the laws of the Church. Nor did the authorities stop at this penalty; for, in later times the unlucky wight detected in relieving hunger by eating prohibited meats, was punished by having all his teeth drawn--the offending members were summarily extracted. The prohibited food in Lent was flesh, eggs, cheese, and wine; subsequently flesh alone was prohibited; and this tenderness of orthodoxy so disgusted the Greek Church, that it lost its temper, flew off into schism, and forgot charity in maintaining that the use of meat in Lent was damnable.

The Xerophagia, or “dry eatings,” were the days on which nothing was eaten but bread and salt. This was in very early times. Innovators added pulse, herbs, and fruits--no unpleasant fare in hot countries. The Montanists made this fast obligatory, and were very much censured in consequence. The Essenes, who, whether as Jews or Jewish Christians in Alexandria, were singularly strict observers of the Sabbath, carrying their strictness to a point which my readers may find in Jortin, if they are curious thereupon, observed also this fast very rigidly, and on the stated days ate nothing with their bread but salt and hyssop.

Most of the saints recorded on the canon roll of Rome, appear to have maintained very indifferent tables, and to have considerably marred thereby their strength and efficiency. Saint Fulgentius abstained from everything savoury, and even drank no wine, says his biographer; which looks as if the good men generally _did_ take some for their stomach’s sake; and indeed Fulgentius himself took a little negus when he was indisposed to plain water; and “small blame to him” for so harmless a proceeding. St. Eugenius never broke his fast till sunset; and when a bunch of grapes was sent to a sick monk of the desert, he forwarded it to a second, and a second to a third, and so on to a twentieth, until this health-inspiring offering, made for man by God, was withered and nasty. These monks did not pray like Pope:--

“The blessings thy free bounty gives Let me not cast away, For God is paid when man receives,-- To enjoy is to obey.”

But this is a sentiment in the opposite extreme, or might be easily carried in that direction. Palladius says of one of these desert monks, St. Macarius, that for years together he lived only on raw herbs and pulse; that during three consecutive years he existed on four or five ounces of bread daily; and that he consumed but one small measure of oil in a twelvemonth--a substitute for the gallons of sack with which profaner men washed down their modicum of bread. St. Macarius, however, surpassed himself in Lent; and an alderman might be excused for fainting at the idea of a human being passing forty days and nights in a standing position, with no more substantial support than a few raw cabbage-leaves on a Sunday! St. Geneviève was hardly inferior in austerity, and only ate twice in the week, on Sundays and Thursdays, and then only beans and bread. When she grew old and infirm, and she was prematurely both, she indulged in a little fish and milk. Simeon Stylites surpassed both in culpable austerity. He spent an entire Lent without allowing anything to pass his lips; and at other seasons this slow suicidal saint never ate but on Sundays. His chief occupation upon the pillar, which looks much more like a column of pride than a monument of humility, was in praying and bowing. An admiring monk, who must have had as little of active usefulness to employ his time with as poor Simeon, exultingly records, that he did not eat once during the day, but that he made one thousand two hundred and forty-four bows of adoration in that time. Oh, Simeon! well for thee, poor fellow-mortal, if those reverences be not accounted rather as homage to thyself, than to Him to whom homage is due.

It is extremely difficult for the human mind to realize the idea of a Bishop of London never breaking his fast till the evening, and then being satisfied with a solitary egg, an inch of bread, and a cup of milk and water; such, however, is said to have been the daily fare of St. Cedd, a predecessor of Dr. Blomfield in the metropolitan diocese. “How unlike _my_ Beverly!” St. Severinus, an Austrian prelate, had a more indifferent table than St. Cedd, especially in Lent, when he ate but once a week. St. William of Bourges never tasted meat after he was ordained. St. Theodosius, the Cenobiarch, was more frugal still, and bread often lacked, we are told, even for the holy offices of the Church. This would seem to intimate, however, that the officers of the Church may have eaten it. Be this as it may, when bread was needed for the sacrament, a string of mules miraculously appeared in the desert, bearing the necessary provision. “Necessary provision,” may be well said, for if the Cenobites consumed little themselves, they presided at tables where occasionally sat a hundred hungry guests, who must have much needed a dinner, seeing that they crossed the desert to obtain it.

Some of the most self-denying saints, like St. Felix of Nola, if they declined wine in its liquid form, took it in pills,--swallowing grapes. St. Paul, the first hermit, lived on the fruit of a tree which produced a fresh supply daily, the bread to temper which was brought every morning by a raven. The diet was sufficiently invigorating to give strength to the modest man to bite off his own tongue, and spit it in the face of a lady who tried to tempt him, as the Irish nymph tempted the uncourteous St. Kevin of Glendalough. He was, in abstinence, only second to St. Isidore, who, when hungry, burst into tears, not because God had mercifully provided him wherewith to satisfy lawful appetite, but because, sinful man that he was, he dared to eat at all!

I have spoken of the abstinence of a Bishop of London; there was a Bishop of Worcester, Wulstan, who is worthy of being mentioned with him. Wulstan was rather fond of savoury viands, but he was one day, during mass, so distracted by the smell of meat roasting in a kitchen, which must have been very close to his church, that he made a vow to abstain from meat for ever. But I do not know if he kept his vow. St. Euthymius was a more rational man, for he taught his monks that to satisfy hunger was no crime, but that to abuse appetite and God’s gifts too, _was_ an offence. St. Macedonius, the Syrian, did not discover this truth until he had so impaired his powers by long fasts, that it was impossible to restore them--as he tried to do on a diet of dry bread. And yet he was so prematurely gifted, that his own birth is said to have been the result of his own prayers!

The table kept by St. Publius for his monks was not of a liberal character. He allowed them nothing but pulse and herbs, coarse bread, and water. Nothing else! He prohibited wine, milk, cheese, grapes, and even vinegar--which every sour brother might have distilled from his own ichor. From Easter to Whitsuntide was accounted a holiday time, and during that festive period, the brotherhood were allowed to grow hilarious, if they could, upon a gill of oil a-piece. St. Paula, “the widow,” subjected her nuns to the same lively fare, and she moreover fiercely denounced all ideas of personal neatness and cleanliness, as an uncleanness of the mind. She accounted herself wise in so doing, but her nuns might fairly have put to her the question asked by Mizen, in the Fair Quaker of Deal:--“Do’st thou think that nastiness gives thee a title to knowledge?”

St. John Chrysostom was as severe as Paula, and it would not have cost Olympias much to defray, as she insisted upon doing, the expenses of his table. The table which the saint kept for guests was, however, hospitably and delicately laden--and perhaps this was an inconsistency in a man who censured what he also encouraged.

They who have made a saint of Charlemagne, aver that he broke his fast but once a day, and that after sunset. I cannot believe this of a man who dealt so largely in the eggs laid by his hens, and in vegetables raised in his garden. Nor do I believe that St. Sulpicius Severus would have written so capital a biography of St. Martin, had he lived, as it is said, on herbs, boiled with a little vinegar for seasoning. Surely, we have heard of the “kitchen” of gentlemen like Sulpicius, and if his condensed Scripture History be as dry as the bread he ate during the task, his letters to Claudia seem to have been written on more generous food. Not that he was immoderate. He kept one cook, a very “plain cook” indeed, as Sulpicius describes him, when he despatched the boy to Bishop Paulinus with a letter which commences with a startling bit of episcopal history, namely, that “_all_ the cooks in the kitchen of Paulinus had left him without warning, because the prelate was getting too careless about good living.” Some commentators say that the letter was a joke; but the reply to it is extant, and therein it may be seen how Paulinus did not look upon it as a joke.

Southey, in his “St. Romuald,” mirthful as the story is, has not exceeded the truth, or rather has not departed from the narrative told by the good man’s biographers:--

“Then, Sir, to see how he would mortify The flesh! If any one had dainty fare, Good man, he would come there; And look at all the delicate things, and cry, O Belly! Belly! You would be gormandizing now, I know; But it shall not be so!-- Home, to your bread and water. Home, I tell ye.”