For nearly seven hundred years, a curious and unsettling practice prevailed among affluent Europeans: the consumption of Egyptian mummies. This bizarre phenomenon, rooted in a historical misinterpretation, led to a thriving market for human remains, transforming ancient relics into perceived health elixirs. The practice, known as 'mumia,' was believed to cure a wide array of ailments, from common colds to more severe conditions like epilepsy and paralysis. This disturbing trend highlights a unique intersection of historical medical beliefs, cultural misunderstanding, and the exploitation of ancient heritage for commercial gain.

A Historical Glimpse into the Curious Case of Mumia

The peculiar tradition of ingesting mummified remains in Europe began its ascent in the 12th century, stemming from a crucial mistranslation of the Arabic term 'mūmiyah.' Originally referring to bitumen, a natural asphalt with recognized medicinal uses in classical and Islamic traditions, the term became conflated with the resinous dark coating found on Egyptian mummies. This linguistic twist inadvertently linked the ancient preserved bodies with potent healing properties, sparking an unprecedented demand across European apothecaries.

Bitumen, a viscous petroleum substance abundant around the Dead Sea, had been revered for its therapeutic qualities since antiquity. Roman polymath Pliny the Elder documented its extensive medicinal applications, ranging from treating blood flow to alleviating gout. Esteemed Muslim scholars, like Avicenna, continued this legacy, prescribing 'mūmiyah' for various neurological and physical conditions. However, when European translators, such as Gerard of Cremona in the 12th century, encountered these texts, they erroneously interpreted 'mūmiyah' as a substance derived from embalmed corpses, specifically those from ancient Egyptian tombs.

This misapprehension fueled a burgeoning trade. Astute merchants in Alexandria, recognizing the lucrative potential, began systematically plundering Egyptian tombs. They would dismember the mummified bodies, grinding them into a fine powder or extracting their supposed medicinal 'oils,' which were then exported to Europe. This 'mumia' became a highly sought-after commodity, readily available in pharmacies and even carried by royalty, such as the French King Francis I, who reputedly always had a personal supply on hand. The English College of Physicians, in their official pharmacopeia from 1618 to 1747, even described its taste as 'somewhat acrid and bitterish.' Illustrious figures like Sir Francis Bacon and Robert Boyle endorsed its use for various physical traumas, solidifying its place in European medicine.

Egyptian authorities were largely resistant to this widespread desecration. Records from 1428 reveal the capture and torture of individuals involved in mummy trade, who confessed to boiling mummified bodies to extract oils for sale. Despite legal prohibitions, enforcement was often weak, especially when influential Europeans offered bribes. A notable instance involved Englishman John Sanderson in 1586, who, after exploring a sepulchre and obtaining fragments of mummified remains, managed to depart Egypt with 600 pounds worth of body parts through strategic payments.

The insatiable demand also led to the rise of a counterfeit market. Many 'mumia' suppliers in Egypt resorted to using freshly deceased individuals, including executed criminals, plague victims, and enslaved people, to produce the desired product, as sourcing ancient mummies proved more arduous. Italian traveler Ludovico di Varthema chronicled how 'mumia' was produced from recent desert casualties, contrasting it with the more esteemed but scarce 'embalmed bodies of kings and princes.' In reality, most authentic 'mumia' came from commoners, a fact conveniently overlooked by European elites who preferred to believe their remedies originated from ancient royalty.

The concept of 'mumia' eventually evolved beyond Egyptian mummies. Influential physician Paracelsus proposed that the medicinal benefits stemmed from a 'life energy' within corpses, advocating for the use of freshly deceased bodies, particularly young, healthy men who died suddenly. This broader practice of 'corpse medicine' extended to consuming blood from executed individuals for general health and epilepsy, and applying human fat-soaked bandages to wounds, showcasing a macabre facet of historical medical beliefs.

By the 16th century, skepticism began to emerge among some medical professionals. French surgeon Ambroise Pare, a critic of 'mumia,' argued against its efficacy, noting that it often caused adverse reactions. German physician Leonhart Fuchs meticulously traced the historical translation errors that led to the belief in 'mumia,' denouncing the 'stupid credulity' of those who continued to prescribe it. Cultural critics, like English philosopher Thomas Browne, lamented the destruction of invaluable Egyptian heritage, famously stating, 'The Ægyptian Mummies... avarice now consumeth.' French writer Michel de Montaigne even highlighted the hypocrisy of condemning cannibalism in the New World while Europeans consumed human flesh medicinally. Despite growing concerns, the 'mumia' trend persisted, with its peak in the 18th century, and traces of its sale, such as in a 1908 Merck catalogue, extended into the early 20th century.

Beyond medicine, Egyptian mummies found other macabre uses. In 19th-century Europe, 'mummy unwrapping parties' became a grotesque form of entertainment for the elite. Additionally, 'mummy brown,' a pigment made from ground mummified bodies, was a popular paint color from the mid-18th to 19th centuries, notably used in Eugene Delacroix's famous 'Liberty Leading the People.' The last tube of this pigment was astonishingly produced in 1964. While claims of mummies being used as fertilizer, paper, or even locomotive fuel might be exaggerated, they underscore the profound disrespect with which these ancient remains were treated, viewed as mere commodities rather than invaluable cultural artifacts.

The consumption of Egyptian mummies in Europe, while now relegated to the annals of history, serves as a stark reminder of humanity's past medical misconceptions and cultural exploitation. Although we no longer ingest human remains for health, the underlying issues of cultural and physical resource extraction from less powerful nations by the global north persist. The continued sale of human bones from regions like India for curiosities and medical tools, despite bans, and the display of colonized peoples' remains in Western museums, echo the historical objectification and commodification of other cultures. In essence, the tragic saga of mumia underscores that while the forms of exploitation may change, the fundamental dynamics of power and appropriation often remain disturbingly constant.