Ancient People's Parties
- Davit Grigoryan
- Jun 15, 2024
- 9 min read
Updated: Mar 16
This cycle of stories is a journey through the ages, where feasts and celebrations become a reflection of power, fear, and human ambition. From the intoxication of Egyptian priests in honor of the goddess Hathor to Dracula's bloody feast, from the scandalous "Banquet of Chestnuts" by the Borgias to the last masquerade of the Romanovs — each story reveals how politics, revenge, or despair hid behind the luxury of banquets. You'll learn how Cleopatra "drank" a pearl for the sake of power, why Russian aristocrats played at "pre-Petrine Russia" on the eve of the revolution, and how ordinary chestnuts turned into a symbol of debauchery. These are not just tales of food and dancing — they are stories of how people tried to deceive time, fate, and each other.
Egyptian drunkenness festival
Do you know how the ancient Egyptians "pleased" the gods? They held grand parties! Every year (or every two years), they celebrated the Festival of Drunkenness in honor of the goddess Hathor. But it wasn’t just a wild time—behind the fun, there was an ancient legend and magical rituals.
According to the legend, the goddess Sekhmet, in the form of a lioness, wanted to destroy humans. The god Ra tricked her by giving her beer colored red so she would think it was blood. Sekhmet drank it, fell asleep, and woke up as the kind Hathor. Since then, the Egyptians repeated this "trick"—they drank to keep the goddess kind.
The festival began at sunset. People in their finest clothes (jewels, incense, flower crowns) gathered at the temple of Hathor. Everyone waited for the ceremonial barge, carried by the Nile to the shore. When it arrived, the priest presented the goddess with a cup of red beer. Who played the role of Hathor? Perhaps it was a statue or a person in a costume—we're not sure. But the crowd cheered when the "goddess" drank!
After meeting Hathor, a procession with drums and dancing began. Participants dressed as animals (baboons, monkeys)—symbols of the goddess's power over nature. In the temple courtyard, the pharaoh would strike clay balls with a stick—symbols of evil. Scholars joke that this was the ancient version of golf! Afterward, the pharaoh would leave, and the main event—the feast—would begin.
Wine and beer flowed freely. There were almost no snacks—the goal was to drink "to the sacred state." The priests encouraged the guests: "Let’s drink, eat, and have sex!" And this was not a metaphor. Orgies in the temple were considered part of the ritual. Children conceived that night were respected—they often became priests. One such "child of the festival," Kenkhikhopshef, even set up a monument with a proud inscription: "I was conceived at the gates of the temple!"
And what about vomiting? No sugarcoating here: guests weren’t shy about "purging." Vomiting was part of the ritual! To make sure even the toughest drinkers reached the "right state," they added emetic herbs to the beer. By morning, the temple looked like a battlefield: people were sprawled everywhere, and the priests dragged the statue of Hathor into the hall. When the first rays of the sun lit up the goddess, they drummed so loudly that even the completely drunk woke up.
In a half-dazed state, under the gaze of the shining statue, the Egyptians believed that the goddess would hear their requests. Drunkenness blurred the boundaries between worlds—making it easier to "reach" the heavens. As philosopher William James wrote: "The drunk says 'yes' to the world, while the sober says 'no'."
Today, such rituals shock us. But in ancient times, beer and wine were a "bridge" to the gods. Maybe that's why the Egyptians didn’t see anything shameful in orgies—they saw it as a path to mystical insight. However, after such a night, it wasn’t easy to "gain insight" in the morning...
Feast of Alexander the Great
Do you know how Alexander the Great celebrated his victories? He threw feasts that echoed across the world! But these weren’t just banquets—behind them were politics, myths, and even... philosopher contests.
After the Battle of Gaugamela, Alexander held a feast for 9,000 people. But the food was "a weapon": through his generosity, he showed that he was now the master of Asia. On the tables were dates from Babylon, wine from Greece, and rare spices. But the most important part was the symbolism: on golden plates, they served dishes from the conquered peoples, as if to say, "Your culture is now a part of my empire."
At the feast, they didn’t just eat. Philosophers debated the meaning of life, poets recited odes, and musicians played lyres. It’s said that once, Alexander held a contest: who could drink the most and still compose poetry. The winner was a Greek who, in his drunken state, came up with: "Wine is the brother of victory, and you are the brother of Dionysus!" The king appreciated the creativity and gave him a silver cup as a prize.
The most famous feast was the wedding in Susa, where Alexander married 10,000 Macedonians to Persian women. Why? To blend the cultures! But the guests didn’t appreciate it: many soldiers ran away from their "foreign" wives right after the celebration. However, the legend remains: to this day, in Iran, they show "that very" banquet hall (though archaeologists have doubts).
In Greece and Macedonia, "Alexander’s feasts" are still held today—with theatrical performances and ancient dishes. However, instead of philosophical debates, there are now costume contests. Historians still argue: was the king an alcoholic, or did he simply use feasts as a tool of power?
Cleopatra's party in honor of Mark Antony
Do you know how Cleopatra proved she was the most impressive of them all? She drank jewels! The story of her argument with Mark Antony became a legend, but scholars still debate whether it’s true or just a myth.
According to Pliny the Elder, the queen and Antony argued over who could host the most expensive feast. Cleopatra was losing until she took a pearl earring from her ear, dropped it into a cup of wine (supposedly "vinegar"), and drank it. The pearl was worth a fortune—this was how she "ate" her prize. But here’s the problem: pearls don’t dissolve in wine! For that, an acid like vinegar is needed. If the queen had drunk vinegar with the pearl, she would have been poisoned. Scholars speculate: maybe the pearl was made from fragile calcium carbonate, which could have been neutralized by the acid? But no one dares to test this—it would be too expensive of an experiment!
After the feast, there was one "unpaired" pearl left. Cleopatra, being a true fashionista, didn’t throw it away. The earring was split in half, and the pieces were used to decorate a statue of Venus in the Pantheon. It’s said that the Romans were astonished, exclaiming, "She even made the gods wear her jewels!"
Historians believe this whole story was a publicity stunt. Cleopatra wanted to show that Egypt was wealthier than Rome. And it worked! Mark Antony, impressed by her stunt, fell even more in love with the queen. As for the feast? It was indeed luxurious: wine flowed freely, guests ate pheasants in honey, and for dessert, they were served frozen fruits (a rare treat in the hot Egyptian climate!).
In paintings, Cleopatra is often depicted with a cup and a pearl. Sometimes, Antony is shown next to her, looking at her as if she were crazy. However, in the Louvre, there is a painting where the queen simply holds the pearl near her ear—no feasts, just a hint: "I am the one who can drink a fortune."
Even if the story with the pearl is a fabrication, it perfectly fits Cleopatra's image: a queen who turned everything into theater. And who knows—maybe she just pretended to drink the pearl, hiding it in her sleeve instead? After all, brilliance lies in the ability to outsmart everyone!
Dracula's Feast
The legend of Dracula's "bloody feast" sparks the imagination: a prince who executed his guests during dinner. But what’s true and what’s fiction? Let’s break it down.
Vlad Dracula, who became the ruler of Wallachia in 1456, knew that the boyar elite would betray him. Many boyars served multiple princes, changing their allegiances as easily as gloves. To solidify his power, Vlad set a trap with a feast. He asked the guests, "How many princes have you outlived?" The answers were shocking: some recalled five rulers, others twelve. "You won't outlive me," Dracula declared.
16th-century German pamphlets claim that Dracula executed 500 boyars. Turkish chronicles go even further, saying there were 20,000 victims. But documents from Wallachia reveal the truth: after the feast, 11 traitor boyars disappeared. Even with their servants, no more than 100 people were executed. So where did the "thousands" come from? It was propaganda! The Turks and Hungarians, enemies of Dracula, intentionally inflated the numbers to portray him as a madman.
Dracula wasn’t just seeking revenge—he was creating a theater of power. Drunk boyars would confess their betrayals, and the prince appeared as a "restorer of justice." Even executions became a ritual: impaling (which earned him the nickname "Țepeș") was meant to terrify his enemies.
Vlad the Impaler wasn’t a sadist. He acted rationally: he eliminated those who had betrayed his father and solidified his throne. The myths about "thousands of victims" emerged due to enemy propaganda and the medieval writers’ love for terrifying tales.
Dracula didn’t drink blood, but he expertly played on fear. His feast wasn’t a bloody carnival—it was a cold calculation. As Prince Nygoe wrote: "Show your anger in the morning, sober." But Vlad knew: sometimes, the "morning" had to come for everyone at once.
Banquet of Chestnut
On October 31, 1501, in the Apostolic Palace of Rome, Cesare Borgia, the son of Pope Alexander VI, held a feast that shocked even those accustomed to decadence. This "Chestnut Banquet" became a symbol of an era where power, religion, and vice blended in a fiery dance.
The party began as an exquisite dinner: fifty courtesans in luxurious attire served the guests—cardinals, aristocrats, and the pope's associates. But after dessert, the main event began. Candles were placed on the floor, and chestnuts were scattered between them. The courtesans undressed completely (their clothes were sold at an auction!) and crawled for the "harvest" amid lewd jokes from the guests. Then, the orgies followed: both clergy and secular guests gave in to debauchery right in the hall.
The master of ceremonies, Johann Burchard, who documented the event in his diary, dryly notes: "Silk cloaks and shoes were given to those who worked the hardest." But historians still debate the details. American biographer W. Manchester adds some unsettling specifics: servants were allegedly counting the orgasms of the guests, and Pope Alexander VI personally evaluated his son's "manliness." However, Burchard remains silent on this—possibly these are later fabrications meant to emphasize the "devilish" reputation of the Borgias.
What’s true here? The orgies with courtesans are a fact, confirmed by contemporaries. However, the details about sex toys and counting ejaculations are more likely myths. The Borgias used such feasts as a tool of power: by shocking society, they demonstrated their impunity. Even the chestnuts weren’t random—they were a symbol of fertility and the sinful "generosity" of nature.
Today, the "Chestnut Banquet" seems like a wild legend. But it’s also a story about the hypocrisy of the era: cardinals who condemned sin were themselves participating in orgies. And Cesare Borgia, like a true politician, turned debauchery into a spectacle—cruel, but unforgettable. As philosopher Machiavelli wrote: "The ends justify the means." The only problem was, the goals of the Borgias were far too... bodily.
Masquerade in the Russian Empire
February 1903. The Winter Palace transformed into a theater of the time of Alexei Mikhailovich: Nicholas II in a golden caftan, Empress Alexandra in a brocade kokoshnik, and the courtiers in sarafans and стрелецкие caftans. This masquerade ball became not just entertainment, but an attempt to return the "spirit of Muscovy"—yet it turned out to be a farewell chord of the fading empire.
The idea for the masquerade came from Alexandra Feodorovna as a tribute to the 290th anniversary of the Romanov dynasty. Guests spent two evenings immersing themselves in roles: first, they admired Chaliapin in "Boris Godunov," then danced in 17th-century costumes to Russian melodies. Nicholas II wrote in his diary: "The hall, filled with ancient people, looked very beautiful." The beauty came at a high price: ladies flaunted family jewels, while officers in falconers' uniforms could barely recognize each other.
The main surprise wasn’t the costumes, but the details. The court orchestra played in caftans, and the dinner was accompanied by the singing of the Arkhangelsk choir. After midnight, guests waltzed among heliogravures, unaware that this would be the last "perfect" ball of the era (the last one in the Winter Palace would take place in 1904, but without the fairytale atmosphere that reigned there).
The irony of history: the masquerade was intended as a revival of traditions, but it became their epitaph. The luxury was astounding: photographers captured 390 guests for an album published in 1904. Dresses adorned with pearls, furs, and the "reconstruction" of Muscovite bows—all of this resembled a play where the actors no longer believed in their roles. Even the "à la russe" dances at the Sheremetev ball, held just days later, looked like a parody.
Today, those photographs are not just carnival snapshots. They are portraits of an elite who played with the past while the future was gathering outside the palace windows. Nicholas II dreamed of "restoring ceremonies," but 14 years later, the empire itself became a backdrop, swept away along with the costumes. As one eyewitness wrote: "The jewels surpassed all expectations." Sadly, diamonds couldn't save them from history.
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