Foods and Culinary Utensils of the Ancients — Story, Setting & Ideas

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In Category - Home Economics
Martyn, Charles, 1874- Project Gutenberg 2013 Not confirmed
Kitchen utensils; Cooking -- History; Food -- History Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

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Words 22,077
Reading time 96 min
Text sections 3

This digital edition of Foods and Culinary Utensils of the Ancients — Story, Setting & Ideas is described by source-level measurements including 22,077 words, 1 hr 36 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.

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An editorial note on Charles Martyn's survey of ancient foods and utensils, focusing on how the work's structure, recurring images, and movement between scenes reveal its method of tracing culinary history through successive civilizations.
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Editorial Edition Score 4.6/5

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When was the beginning?

The Biblical chronology of events prior to the Deluge is not accepted by scientists. The students of to-day believe, and seek to prove, that the earth has existed for several million years, and has passed through many different stages; that animal life was first evolved from the "inanimate" state of matter; that man is the most highly finished creature that has as yet been attained in the ascending scale of evolution, and that he will, in the natural course of events, make place for a still more nearly perfect being.

The exact date of the first appearance of man cannot now be ascertained. Geological research has led to the assertion that he probably existed thousands of years before the time usually assigned. But if we commence our history from the last great glacial visitation we find that the conceded date of its occurrence, about 5,000 years before the birth of Christ, coincides rather closely with the date of the creation as given in the book of Genesis. Assuming then that the neolithic, or stone age followed not only the ice visitation, but the creation (to use a familiar phrase), the theory of many scientists and the story of the Bible agree on the one, to us, essential point--the birth of the first people.

Horace, in his third satire (first book), gives his views of the first food of the human race. (At that time, six hundred years before the Christian era, it was held that man was not created in a perfectly developed form, but was engendered from beings of a different kind.) He says: "When first these creatures crawled out of the ground, dumb and foul brutes, they fought for nuts, first with nails and fists, then with sticks, and later with weapons made of metal." This coincides with the deduction made in the third paragraph, that nuts have a just claim to the title of one of the "first foods."

These savages must have suffered from exposure to the occasional inclemency of the weather. To protect themselves, they, being endowed with an ever-increasing power of reason, resorted to the skins of wild animals for covering. Failing to obtain a sufficient number from the carcasses of those which had died a natural death, they conceived the idea of destroying life in order to obtain the coveted article. They may not at first have availed themselves of anything but the outer covering, leaving the flesh to be eaten by other animals or birds, but the flesh adhering to the hide would soon become offensive from decomposition, and what is more probable than that their common sense soon directed them to remove it directly after being stripped from the slaughtered animal? The teeth of the primitive man were constantly in use for many purposes; so, in tearing off the pieces of flesh with them, may the first appetite for meat as food have been acquired.

It is difficult to determine when food was first subjected to the influence of heat; it is still more useless to attempt to explain how the properties of fire were first discovered. It is presumed that the first fire witnessed by man, was caused by the fall of a meteorite, a volcanic eruption or a lightning flash. The observation of its peculiar effects excited the still dormant inventive spirit of the neolithic, and he essayed the production of it himself. Evidence proves that he first attained his end by striking pieces of flint against iron pyrites and letting the sparks fall upon some combustible material, placed accidentally or intentionally beneath. It is easy to imagine that it was soon learned that fire would destroy human life and that the pleasing odor of the burning flesh led to the use of cooked meat as food.

The cradle of the fathers of the human race was undoubtedly the southern portion of Asia. They were nomadic in their habits and satisfied their acquired cravings by hunting and fishing. The stone floors of the caves in which they made their temporary abodes were admirably suited to the building of their rude fires.

Ultimately these neolithics became owners of flocks and herds, usually of sheep and goats, and moved about from place to place in search of fresh pastures. Members of these flocks were slain from time to time as convenience dictated. When for any reason food was scarce, their other domestic animals, even their dogs, fell a prey to the insatiable appetite for blood. The forests abounded with living things, now generally classified under the title of "game," and these also contributed materially to the food supply.

Charles Martyn's Foods and Culinary Utensils of the Ancients moves from a philosophical opening—citing Feuerbach's pun that "man is what he eats"—through a series of chapters each devoted to a single ancient culture. The work's structure is chronological and geographical, beginning with "the coming of the nations" and proceeding through Assyria, Egypt, Greece, Rome, the ancient Jews, and China. Within each chapter, Martyn shifts between broad assertions about diet and specific details of utensils, dishes, and dining customs, creating a rhythm of general claim followed by concrete example.

From Primeval Fruit to Roman Feasts

The opening chapter establishes a recurring pattern: Martyn speculates on the first foods of primeval man—"fruits and soft-shelled nuts"—then argues that cooking allowed humans to consume what other mammals eat. This move from the hypothetical to the asserted reappears throughout. In the Roman section, the pattern intensifies: a brief note on the sphaeristerium and private baths leads into a detailed menu of a "very ordinary affair" spanning five courses, from gustus of sorrel and oysters to a fifth course of fruits and wines. The juxtaposition of the general ("the amount of food consumed would be incredible") with the specific (a list of dishes) is the book's characteristic structural device.

Recurring Images of Excess and Control

Certain images recur across chapters, linking disparate cultures. The Roman dinner features "jugglers, rope-dancers, buffoons and actors" between courses, and "beautiful Andalusian girls" dancing. Earlier, in the Egyptian section, Martyn notes that "fowls were fattened in the dark" and "ducks and geese were fed on figs and dates." The image of force-feeding and spectacle appears again in Rome: "Vitellius and Apicius feasted on the tongues of flamingoes, and Elagabalus on their brains." These details are not merely decorative; they reinforce a theme of culinary artifice pushing against natural limits, a thread Martyn weaves from Egypt to Rome.

Movement Between the General and the Specific

Martyn's prose moves abruptly from sweeping statements to minute particulars. In the Roman chapter, a sentence on the cena—"Seldom less than four hours were spent at table"—is followed by Pliny the Elder's schedule and then by Seneca's remark, "Edunt ut vomant; vomant ut edunt." The shift from historical generalization to quoted Latin creates a layered effect. Similarly, the description of dining couches—"inlaid with tortoise shells and jewels"—sits next to the practical note that "three people occupied each sofa." This movement between the opulent and the mundane gives the text a documentary quality, as if Martyn is assembling evidence from varied sources without smoothing over the transitions.

The Role of Utensils and Furniture

Utensils and furniture receive focused attention, often in passages that interrupt the narrative flow. In the Roman section, Martyn describes tables "of quadrangular shape—three sides being decorated for the guests and the fourth left vacant" and their replacement by "small tables of marble, bronze or citrus." Sideboards supported "heavy gold and silver utensils." Toothpicks "made from the leaves of the mastich pistachio" are mentioned alongside the mulsum of Hymetian honey. These details are not merely inventory; they ground the abstract discussion of diet in physical objects. The book's title promises both foods and utensils, and Martyn delivers by embedding descriptions of tools within the larger cultural portrait, making the material culture of dining a constant presence.

Readers attentive to structure will notice that Martyn rarely pauses to compare one civilization's practices directly with another's; instead, he lets the sequence of chapters imply a progression. The recurring images of excess—force-fed fowl, extravagant menus, costly utensils—accumulate across cultures, suggesting a narrative of increasing refinement and decadence. Because the excerpts end before the chapters on the ancient Jews and the Chinese, the full arc remains uncertain, but the pattern established in the earlier sections invites careful observation of how Martyn balances general claims with specific, often striking, details.

Martyn’s old volume, tracing how a grinding stone or stew-pot passed from one civilization to the next, always felt to me like listening to someone recall neighbors they’d loved—each utensil carrying a household’s quiet habits forward. That same patient intimacy lives in The New England Cook Book, or Young Housekeeper's Guide Being a Collection of the Most Valuable Receipts; Embracing all the Various Branches of Cookery, and Written — Background and Themes, where a receipt for bread is less instruction than a hand passed down.

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