It’s getting to that time of year. Some relish the endless social obligations – others want to hide under the covers. When you see what constitutes a party these days, the latter camp might have a point.
Because of course, there are parties and there are parties.
On one side of the scale, we have Assyrian King Ashurnasirpal II, who, some 3,000 years ago, hosted arguably the grandest shindig ever, featuring all the roasted ox you could eat.
On the other hand, we have your friends James and Sarah’s festive nibbles-and-cocktails get-together: predictable, boring, and distinctly lacking in roasted ox.
We’re not here to talk about James and Sarah.
Some context
The year is 879 BC and King Ashurnasirpal II is feeling smug, having just completed his fifteern-year construction of the city of Kalhu. How best to celebrate? Crack open a bottle of fermented mare’s milk and mutilate some dissidents? No, this called for something more.
Instead, he decided to invite the entire country to a celebratory seven-day feast. 69,574 people accepted, approximately 0.14% of the whole world. It’s possible Ashurnasirpal was hoping for a higher dropout rate. Did he blame an ill omen and cancel? Pretend he had diphtheria?
Again, no – he got to work prepping food and drinks for the population equivalent of Tunbridge Wells. Or rather, he coerced a small army of subordinates to do it for him.
70,000 odd people for seven days of feasting. If you’ve ever stressed out about portion sizes for a get-together, say a little prayer for Ashurnasirpal’s catering team. As I imagine money was no object, they went big, providing food and drink to the tune of:
- 1,000 oxen
- 1,000 domestic cattle and sheep
- 14,000 imported and fattened sheep
- 1,000 lambs
- 500 game birds
- 500 gazelles
- 10,000 fish
- 10,000 eggs
- 10,000 loaves of bread
- 10,000 pitchers of beer
- 10,000 wine skins
(source, WorldHistory.org)
We know all this because King Ashurnasirpal decided to etch the event’s details into the wall of his grand palace. Future residents would see, he hoped, how much of a party monster he was.
Sadly, the scribblings happened pre-party, not post-party, with little detail on how the event went down. Perhaps a Mesopotamian dignitary embarrassed himself by making lewd comments to a serving girl. Maybe Ashurnasirpal hid in his room all night after suffering unexpected social anxiety. Could you blame him?
Why am I telling you all this?
When you’re rubbing shoulders with friends and family this Christmas, think of Ashurnasirpal and his grand display of opulence. If someone asks, ‘What do you think of the party? ‘ tell them “there ain’t no party like a King Ashurnasirpal II party.” Everyone will think you’re just hilarious.
