Sunday, September 24, 2017

17th-century 'Great British Bake Off' recipes

History Extra

All images are © Wellcome Images

 Hannah Bisaker’s puff pastry, 1692

To make puff paist
 "Take halfe a quortorh of The Finest Flower then mix yo Flower and water
 and Four white of Eggs together, mould up yo paste but not too stiff,
Then role yo Past out into a Sheete. Then lay some Butter in litle Pecies
Till you have Filled yo sheete but doe not lay it Towards The ends to neare,
 Then Dust a little Flower with yo Drudging Box then Fould it up
Twice before you put any more Then doe soe Till yo have put in
a pound keeping it a little dusted very Fine yo put it to yo Butter,
handle it a little Then cut it to yo own

Fancie Lady Ann Fanshawe's icy cream, 1651-1707

To make Icy Cream
 Take three pints of the best cream, boyle it with
a blade of Mace, or else perfume it with orang flower water
 or Amber-Greece, sweeten the Cream, with sugar let it stand
till it is quite cold, then put it into Boxes, ether of Silver
 or tinn then take, Ice chopped into small peeces and
putt it into a tub and set the Boxes in the Ice couering
them all over, and let them stand in the Ice two
hours, and the Cream Will come to be Ice in the Boxes,
then turne them out into a salvar with some of the same
Seasoned Cream, so sarue it up at the Table.

 Lady Ann Fanshawe's sugar cakes, 1651-1707

To make Sugar Cakes
 Take 2 pound of Butter, one pound of fine Sugar, the yolkes of nine
Egs, a full Spoonfull of Mace beat & searsed [sifted], as much Flower as this
will well wett making them so stiffe as you may rowle it out, then
with the Cup of a glasse of what Size you please cutt
them into round Cakes; pricke them and bake them.

 Orange pudding c1685-c1725

To make Orange Pudding
 Take 2 Oranges pare them and cut them in little pieces,
then take 12 Ounces of fine Sugar, beat them in a stone morter,
put to them 12 Ounces of butter and 12 Yolkes of Eggs,
 and beat all these together, then make a very good paste,
and lay a sheet of paste upon a dish and so lay on your pudding,
and cover it with another sheet of paste,
 and set it in the oven, an hour will bake it

 How to Cook a Husband (c1710-1725)

How to Cook a Husband

 As Mr Glass said of the hare, you must first catch him. Having done so, the mode of cooking him, so as to make a good dish of him, is as follows. Many good husbands are spoiled in the cooking; some women go about it as if their husbands were bladders, and blow them up. Others keep them constantly in hot water, while others freeze them by conjugal coldness. Some smother them with hatred, contention and variance, and some keep them in pickle all their lives. These women always serve them up with tongue sauce. Now it cannot be supposed that husbands will be tender and good if managed in that way. But they are, on the contrary, very delicious when managed as follows: Get a large jar called the jar of carefulness, (which all good wives have on hand), place your husband in it, and set him near the fire of conjugal love; let the fire be pretty hot, but especially let it be clear - above all, let the heat be constant. Cover him over with affection, kindness and subjection. Garnish with modest, becoming familiarity, and the spice of pleasantry; and if you had kisses and other confectionaries let them be accompanied with a sufficient portion of secrecy, mixed with prudence and moderation. We would advise all good wives to try this receipt and realise how admirable a dish a husband is when properly cooked.

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Researchers Look to Crowdfunding to Identify the Skull of Pompeii Hero Pliny the Elder

Ancient Origins

Gaius Plinius Secundus, better known as Pliny the Elder, was an influential administrator, officer, and author in ancient Rome. His life ended suddenly with the deadly eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. He had used his fleet of ships to rescue local citizens and carry them from Pompeii to safety. However, stories say Pliny the Elder himself did not make it out of the town alive. Pliny the Younger wrote on the horrifying eruption and asserted that his uncle was leading a group of survivors to safety when he was overtaken by a cloud of poisonous gas – he died on the beach during that rescue attempt.

Pliny the Younger told the Roman senator and historian Tacitus that he had witnessed the eruption from a distance.

Scene of destruction in the film “Pompeii 3d” (2014). (La Stampa/CC BY NC ND)

Fast forward to 1900, when Italian engineer Gennaro Matrone was excavating Pompeii and discovered the remains of 70+ people. One of the figures was found far from the others; it was graced in bracelets and rings and was wearing a large gold necklace. According to IBTImes UK, Matrone had a hunch that this was the figure of Pliny the Elder – his beliefs have never been confirmed.

Excavations of Pompeii by Gennaro Matrone in 1900. (La Stampa/CC BY NC ND)

Now, Haaretz reports that the skull of this figure from the beach is held in the collection of the Museum of the History of the Art of Medicine in Rome. It has been largely forgotten until historian Flavio Russo and Isolina Marota, an anthropologist at the University of Camerino who is best known for working on the remains of Ötzi the Iceman, decided that it could be worthwhile to check if the skull really belonged to Pliny the Elder.

 Marota told La Stampa “Considering the importance of the findings, our university has the utmost readiness to start a research project on it, perhaps in collaboration with specialized scholars and archaeologists and with the experts responsible for managing the Pompeii site.”

Some of the victims of Pompeii were sitting, some lying when the superhot gas cloud enveloped them. (Bigstock photo)

According to Haaretz, the team is trying to gain the necessary funds to complete the project through crowdfunding (they write that the “Italian cultural and scientific institutions are mired in budget troubles”). The researchers plan to use stable isotope analysis of the skull’s teeth, which was also used in the identification of Ötzi’s origins, and other methods to identify the origins of the skull. As Marota explained, “When we drink water or eat something, whether it's plants or animals, the minerals from the soil enter our body, and the soil has a different composition in every place.” Matching the isotopes with the tooth enamel to those found in soil samples can help the researchers pinpoint the skull’s homeland.

Researchers want to know for certain if this is the skull of Pliny the Elder. (Flavio Russo)

A second method Marota says the team can use is to compare the shape of the head and jaw to busts of Pliny the Elder from his time period.

A previous Ancient Origins article tells us that Pliny the Elder was born in Como, Italy in 23 or 24 AD into a powerful and elite equestrian family (akin to knights). He traveled to Rome in 35 AD and learned the art of rhetoric and public speaking. Throughout the rest of his life (while on the road, and in between careers) Pliny worked tirelessly on a variety of written works.

Pliny the Elder. (Public Domain)

 Pliny served the Roman army as a military officer of the forces, and later as leader of the cavalry, from 45 to 47 AD. He became acquainted with and wrote about several Roman emperors and discussed Germanic warfare, but his most famous work was the Naturalis Historia. Written around 77 AD, this is a thirty-seven chapter book written in ten volumes, which writer Riley Winters explains:

“utilized all of the experience Pliny went through during his travels and the knowledge of his youth to create a compilation of Roman life. The book dictated astronomy, geography, anthropology, zoology, botany, medicine, magic, and mineralogy, as well as a cornucopia of other topics. The information within has proven incredibly illuminating to both modern day historians, and to the Romans during their time.”

The oldest illustrated version (1513) of the Historia Naturalis of Plinius maior (right). Also showing a 1570 edition of the famous Greek speeches, the Logoi by Demosthenes. (CC BY SA 3.0)

 Top Image: Scene of destruction in the film “Pompeii 3d” (2014). (La Stampa/CC BY NC ND) Insert: Remains of a skull attributed to Pliny the Elder from the Museo di Storia dell'Arte Sanitaria in Rome. (Flavio Russo)

By Alicia McDermott

Friday, September 22, 2017

Who’s Who of Greek Mythology Depicted on the Most Exciting Roman Mosaic Found in the UK in 50 Years

Ancient Origins

A rare and unexpected find that could be one of the UK’s most spectacular Roman mosaics, containing designs based on Greek legend, has been partially revealed during a community archaeology project dig in Berkshire. It has been described by experts as, ‘the best find of its kind in half a century’.

 Boxford’s Community Project
The mosaic has been unearthed during the final stages of the ‘Revealing Boxford’s Ancient Heritage’ project, a community archaeology project to investigate 3 potential Roman sites around Boxford village in West Berkshire. According to Cotswold Archaeology, the project began in 2015 when records from a 19th century drainage ditch showed the possibility of a villa in the area. A collaboration involving historical and archaeological groups and local amateur volunteers was set up to investigate. In two previous year’s work, they uncovered a villa, a bath house and a farmstead. They have continued to explore this year, making some other interesting finds of a bracelet, coins and a plunge pool. However, the wholly unexpected find of such an elaborate and iconographic mosaic is definitely the ornate icing on the cake.

The mosaic at Boxford, Berkshire after cleaning. Note the Victorian plumbing to the right, the report for which was used to identify the position of the villa (Cotswold Archaeology)

A Mythical Mosaic
The mosaic was pieced together in the Roman villa during the 4th century (around 380 AD) during the late Roman period. The excavators revealed a 6 meter (20ft) portion of what is thought to be a 10 meter (33ft) square mosaic, with some damage to one corner due to the laying of Victorian drainage pipes. There is a red border of a half meter which is constructed from roof tiles cut into small squares (tesserae). Within this framing lie the real eye-popping treasures of the piece, an array of different dioramas of Greek legends, which amount to a ‘who’s who of mythical icons’, reports Newbury Today.

Classical art expert and member of The Association for the Study and Preservation of Roman Mosaics, Anthony Beeson, described it as, ‘without question the most exciting mosaic discovery made in Britain in the last 50 years,’ the Guardian reports, and went on to state it, ‘must take a premier place amongst those Romano-British works of art that have come down to modern Britons.”

Although less than half of the mosaic was unearthed, the depictions that have been seen show some rarity amongst other finds in Britain. "The range of imagery is beyond anything seen in this country previously," Duncan Coe, project lead officer at Cotswolds Archaeology, told IBTimes. He continued, "That includes some elements that are entirely unique to this site, which is why we've all got very excited about it. In terms of understanding the art history from this period of late Roman Britain, this is a unique find."

Part of the mosaic at Boxford, potentially depicting Hercules fighting a centaur, and Cupid (Cotswold Archaeology)

Experts who have examined the fragment of the mosaic that has been exposed are pretty sure they have identified images of Atlas, Hercules, Cupid as well as the very distinctive winged horse, Pegasus. A man adorned in a lion skin and wielding a club in battle with a centaur is thought to be Hercules. Cupid is thought to be the male shown with a wreath in his left hand.

A less common iconography found in the partially obscured sideways scene has been interpreted by Beeson as representing the tale of Greek hero, Bellerophon. Bellerophon was sent to slay the mythical chimera, a beastly creature with a lion’s head, goat’s torso and serpent’s tail. Oh, and it breathed fire. The attacking position found here is one seen at only two other sites in the UK. Bellerophon is shown riding Pegasus to the ordeal and receiving a king’s daughter’s hand in reward. A fitting scene for a mosaic found in Britain, as this Greek legend is thought to have morphed into Christendom’s tale of St. George and the Dragon, as brought back from the east by the Crusaders.

Although the craftsmanship of the mosaic is not deemed to be of the highest quality and some of the details are crudely constructed, it is the rarity and range of designs included that makes the find stand out.

The corner of the mosaic seems to have an image of Atlas supporting the inner frame (Cotswold Archaeology)

 Status Symbol

There are some questions though. Finding such a luxurious mosaic at this site is somewhat an anomaly, as the rest of the villa is of medium size and more modest. It leads Duncan Coe, project lead officer at Cotswold Archaeology to pose the questions of what kind of person with seemingly moderate means due to the size of the house, would want to portray such a cultured image? What’s more, what might have been happening in the local economy that provided them the wealth to commission it?

Coe, the Roman expert at Cotswold Archaeology explains how the questions that the mosaic raises makes it interesting archaeologically.

“The mosaic is a truly important find. Not only is it a fantastic new piece of Roman art from Britain, but it also tells us about the lifestyle and social pretensions of the owner of the villa at Boxford. That person wanted to project an image of themselves as a cultivated person of taste – someone familiar with classical mythology and high Roman culture, despite the fact that their villa was of relatively modest size in a remote part of the Roman empire. While this person was most probably of British origin, they wanted to be regarded by their friends, neighbours and subservients as a proper Roman.”

The project as a whole has revealed that the Roman population around Boxford was more extensive than had been known. The collaborative effort has dug up more than would have been imagined in the area and has been thrilling for the volunteers and professionals alike.

For now, the mosaic has once again been covered by dirt in order to protect it from the harmful effects of the elements, but there are hopes to return to the site in the future to excavate it in its entirety.

Top image: Various images of the find including a close up of the supposed Cupid figure (Cotswold Archaeology)

By Gary Manners

Thursday, September 21, 2017

A history of baking in 6 objects

History Extra

Bread tins
Though once considered the food of the poor, by the end of the 18th century, brown bread and course-grained flour were popular alternatives for the wealthier classes who began to reject the mass-produced, super-fine flours imported from the United States. Britain has retained its demands for less-conventional flours into the 21st century, with recent revivals for artisan grains such as spelt, rye, buck-wheat and gluten-free alternatives including rice, potato and oat flours. The latter sustained day-to-day bread making in Scotland and Ireland for centuries.

 The phrase ‘bread tin’ or ‘loaf tin’ was not commonly used until the early 1800s, roughly around the same time as the origination of the tin can for the preservation of food.

 Prior to the standard bread tin we are all familiar with today, loaves shaped in crude rustic ball shapes, or ‘boules’, were baked on a wooden tool called a 'peel' in large earthenware crocks. As bakers began to understand the science of bread-making – understanding that too much heat from below would burn the goods and that coarser flours required longer cooking times – bread ovens slowly became more progressive and integrated into the standard oven range in the 19th century.

 This progression was also seen in 19th-century legislation pioneered by the great German chemist, Friedrich Accum, that would subjugate the appalling and widespread use of harmful additives in baked goods.

A 19th-century satirical image showing a bread trough, oven and peel.

 Biscuit tins
Biscuits evolved out of small, baked necessities used as substance for long journeys. The most famous of these are perhaps the ‘ship’s biscuits’ eaten by Tudor sailors. These were concocted from flour, salt and water, prebaked on land and then rehydrated in stews or beer while at sea. Often alive with weevils and hard as door posts, this culinary ‘delight’ was almost certainly the precursor for the staple biscuit that we are all familiar with today.

 Gingerbread was traditionally the biscuit of popular choice, reigning supreme from its roots in the 13th century, right up until the 19th century. There were whole fairs and fetes dedicated to this sweet treat. The most popular of these, the Birmingham Fair, took place each year until the mid-1800s while other major fairs known for their significant gingerbread and toy stalls, Oxford St Giles and St Bartholomew Fairs in London, also petered out by the middle of the century. These would have consisted of rows and rows of market stalls displaying gingerbread in all its forms, interspersed with booths selling toys. Gingerbread men were known as ‘husbands’ in England.

Late 19-century tin biscuit cutter. (© Emma Kay)

 Early tin biscuit cutters like the one pictured above would often have little holes drilled into them to help circulate air, as well as aiding the release of the biscuit following cooking. In the 19th century, small biscuit cutters shaped like leaves, flowers, birds and animals were popular, used to produce fine, fancy almond pastes or other luxury delicacies.

 The ‘docker’ was once an essential tool for the baking of biscuits. It looked like an instrument of torture – sharp spikes attached to a wooden handle. This would perforate the biscuit dough to prevent trapped air from making the mix bubble up or rise too much.

 By the early 20th century, it became hugely popular to ice biscuits using the new-fangled metal syringes, which could be purchased in the icing kits manufactured by Tala and Nutbrown.

A Tala icing set c1950-60 and 1940s flour sifter. (© Emma Kay)

 Cake tins
The term ‘cake tin’ did not emerge until tin manufacturing had become the popular choice for kitchenware during the mid-19th century. Prior to this, ‘patty pans’ made from steel were used to bake small cakes and tartlets in a variety of shapes and sizes.

 During the Second World War, cake tins became equally popular for storing money as well as spongey delights. The media at this time reported on the high number of burglaries that prompted housewives to hide their loot in this most convenient of saving banks.

 In 1921, the Dundee Evening Telegraph reported that the favoured receptacle also saved the life of a little German girl, who was travelling alone by train in the UK. Having panicked after just missing her stop, the child threw open the outer carriage door as the train departed, shielding herself from the fall by holding out her cake tin. Despite falling out while travelling at a speed up to 20 miles an hour, she survived, albeit with some serious injuries.

Gingerbread hornbooks, based on the wooden and leather educational hornbooks, were blocks of alphabetical letters or Roman numerals designed as learning tools for children. (© Emma Kay) 

Pies are as ancient as the Egyptians and Greeks. The earliest of these wondrous and versatile of baked goods consisted of meat wrapped in flour and water pastes to seal in the juices when cooking, or honey concoctions which were coated in mixed grains and baked over hot coals. In early British pie-making, wooden hoops were used to shape the pie mould itself, though by the Victorian period, any dish that was deep enough to contain meat, vegetables, a gravy, capable of being covered by a pastry crust was termed a pie.

 This was also the era of the decorative pie collar and functional pie funnel, designed to both release steam and support the pie crust. In an 1806 edition of The Experienced English Housekeeper, the early 19th-century cook Elizabeth Raffald recommended that raised pies should be cooked in a well-sealed oven, quickly to prevent the sides from falling down. “Light pasted pies” were considered most successful if cooked at moderate temperatures for a period of time that was neither “too long, nor too short” (resulting in the pastry becoming either “sad” or quick to burn).

 Rolling pins and pastry jiggers
Two of the earliest mass-produced baking tools are the rolling pin and pastry jigger (jagger), with a history of mass production starting in the 1600s, possibly earlier.

 Glass rolling pins were used in the preparation of pastry-making, and they were often filled with ice to maintain the temperature when rolling. Apart from producing baked goods, decorative rolling pins were often used by sailors as superstitious good luck charms at sea. The Nailsea glass factory near Bristol produced a huge range of beautiful and decorative glass rolling pins (main picture).

 The pastry jigger, or cutter, was originally carved from scrimshaw [bone or ivory objects], another pastime of sailors who would create these wonderfully intricate items for their waiting wives and girlfriends ashore.

 The popular French rolling pins of the Victorian era were thicker in the middle and tapered at the ends in order to enhance the rolling process. In 1866, two Americans, Theodore Williamson and Chas Richardson, applied for a patent to create the ultimate rolling pin: one that acted not only as a roller, grater, and steak tenderiser, but also as a butter print. Whether it was commercially successful or not remains a mystery.

Moulds are the backbone to any kitchen and used to create many historical treats, from ancient Chinese rice cake sculptures to traditional jellies, ices and delicate confectionery.

 One of the most famous historical moulds in the UK is that of the Biddenden twins, Mary and Eliza Chulkhurst. This stems from a Kentish legend of twin girls, born joined at the hip and shoulders. Each Easter, the town of Biddenden would distribute cakes shaped in the image of the twins, taken from moulds carved in their image.

Other notable moulds include the traditional gingerbread hornbooks, based on the wooden and leather educational hornbooks, which were popular between the 16th and 19th centuries. These were blocks of alphabetical letters or Roman numerals designed as learning tools for children. The edible versions were incredibly popular in the 18th century, with London street sellers touting them for around half a penny.

 Gelatine is the stuff of early civilisations and blancmange is not, as we might believe, a 1960s British brainchild. Rather, it is thought to have originated in the Middle East from almonds, chicken, rice and sugar and introduced to Britain by the crusaders. It is also understood that a Frenchman in the 1600s widely communicated the method of boiling animal bones to extract its benefits, with the use of fishbones and innards to produce an adhesive (Isinglass), patented by the British in 1750.

A 20th-century wax Springerle mould. (© Emma Kay)

 Springerles are German biscuit, cake or confection moulds that exist in many designs and forms, originally carved from wood and wax. This is a typical traditional recipe taken from German National Cookery for English Kitchens, 1873:

 Half a pound of fine flour, half a pound of sifted sugar, two eggs, an ounce of butter, and a pinch of carbonate of soda dissolved in a teaspoonful of milk, or a little more if necessary. Form with these a dough, which must be well kneaded. Roll it out a quarter of an inch thick. Mix the anise-seeds into the dough… The more general way of moulding the springerle is with various figures cut in wooden blocks. These are dusted with flour, the paste rolled out and cut into small pieces, which are then pressed into the shapes, the surface shaved off with a knife, and the devices turned out by knocking the blocks as they are held upside down. Bake them very pale.

 Emma Kay is the author of Vintage Kitchenalia (Amberley Books, 2017)

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

The real Alfred the Great

History Extra

In 878 King Alfred had to flee for his life when Twelfth Night celebrations at his residence in Chippenham, Wiltshire, were rudely interrupted by a surprise Viking attack, well outside the normal campaigning season. Alfred took refuge in the marshes at Athelney in Somerset, where he allegedly burnt the cakes, a story first recorded in the 11th century. The point of this anecdote was to emphasise how low the King’s fortunes had sunk in order to make his comeback at the battle of Edington (also Wiltshire) later in the same year all the more dramatic. By defeating the Viking leader Guthrum, Alfred ensured that his kingdom of Wessex in southern England remained free of the Viking occupation that had overrun the eastern half of the country, and set the stage for his successors to make themselves kings of all England.

 Alfred’s victory at Edington did much to earn him the epithet “the Great”, though this was not widely applied to him before the 16th century. However, his successes against the pagan Vikings are arguably not the most remarkable thing about him; medieval kings, after all, were expected to win battles. No, what really makes Alfred stand out in the canon of Anglo-Saxon leaders are skills and interests that few of his contemporaries shared.

 A chance find near Athelney in 1693 brings us closer to what made Alfred such an unusual king. This is the famous Alfred Jewel, which incorporates the Old English inscription “Aelfred mec heht gewyrcan”: “Alfred had me made”, and it is believed that the Alfred in question must be the ninth-century king. But what sort of artefact is the Jewel, and why may Alfred have commissioned it? The answer probably lies in the socket at the end of the artefact’s animal-head terminal. This presumably once held a thin rod, giving us reason to suspect that the Jewel is an æstel, a pointer to help those who were not experienced at reading to spell out the words. A unique reference to the gift of an æstel occurs in a letter sent by Alfred to his bishops, some of whom, it appears, were in need of improving their reading skills which they were expected to hone on the volume that accompanied the gift. The book was a translation into Old English of a key Latin work of the early Middle Ages, the Pastoral Care by Pope Gregory the Great, and the leader of the translation team was the King himself.

The Alfred Jewel, which was discovered in 1693 near Athelney, where Alfred took refuge from the Vikings in 878. It bears the inscription ‘Alfred had me made’. (Ashmolean Museum/Salisbury & South Wiltshire Museum)

 Kings who read books in the early Middle Ages were pretty unusual, but a king who was an author as well as a successful military commander was as rare as the proverbial hen’s teeth. Alfred was an adult learner. His Welsh biographer and adviser Asser describes how in 887, when the King was 38, he began to study Latin works. From his reading, Alfred seems to have gained a much clearer idea of his own responsibilities as a Christian ruler, and to have felt that others in his kingdom who were also in positions of responsibility would benefit similarly if they got down to study. Not only were his bishops expected to find time to do so, but so were his secular leaders and administrators. In addition to the translation of Pastoral Care, Alfred was involved in the translation of Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy, Augustine’s Soliloquies and the first 50 Psalms. Such books were usually only available in Latin, but Alfred was not afraid to break with convention, and so did much to launch English as a language of learning.

 The works selected for translation were not so far removed from Alfred’s other concerns as king as they might at first appear. King David of the Psalms, and many of the classical characters referred to by Boethius, were military and political leaders with similar concerns and problems to those faced by Alfred himself. To a certain extent we can see the King treating these works as self-help guides. In the letter he sent to his bishops with the æstel and their copy of Pastoral Care, Alfred looked back on earlier periods and concluded that those in which rulers had been successful in warfare and wealth were also those in which wisdom had flourished. By wisdom, the King meant the knowledge to act and think correctly as defined by the Bible and those who commented upon its meaning. The bishops were further encouraged to make the same connection through the gift of a valuable æstel. They had literally acquired wealth (ie the æstel) with wisdom, (their copy of the translation of Pastoral Care) whose import they were to pass on to the wider population via the priests whom it was their duty to train. The people would learn that it was their duty to fall into line behind the King and to accept the demands that he needed to make upon them in order to be successful in warfare against the Vikings. 

An enquiring mind and willingness to adopt original solutions for practical problems appear to have been characteristics of King Alfred. The æstels may be an example of the “wonderful and precious new treasures made to his own design” described by Asser. Another may be the splendid silver Fuller brooch, with its depiction of the five senses in which “Sight” bears a close resemblance to the enigmatic central figure on the Alfred Jewel. When the King wanted a more accurate way of allocating his time equally to his different responsibilities, he designed a candle-clock, and when the winds whistling around his wooden palaces caused his candles to gutter, he ordered lanterns of wood and horn to be made to contain them. When he saw how the Vikings were making use of fortified sites, he ordered new fortresses to be built in Wessex, existing ones to be strengthened and garrisons to be placed within them. These burhs, as they were known, played a major role in Alfred’s ability to see off further Viking attacks after his defeat of Guthrum at Edington in 878.

 But in Asser’s biography, and through comments in the translations associated with him, Alfred also appears as an introspective man who was troubled by the problems of reconciling the expectations of him as a military and Christian leader. He also suffered serious illness from adolescence onwards. Illness had first come upon him when he was worrying about how to avoid teenage lust, and entered a new phase when he fell ill at his wedding in 867 when he was about 20. From this time we are told he had recurring agonising attacks and was always on edge because he never knew when he might be struck down again. (One modern diagnosis of Alfred’s symptoms is that he suffered from Crohn’s disease, a chronic abdominal disorder.)

 Some modern historians have found this picture of Alfred as an apparent neurotic invalid with sexual hang-ups difficult to reconcile with Alfred the man of action who excelled in hunting and warfare (as Asser also tells us). Yet, whatever their doubts, it would appear that Alfred found a way of turning illness to his advantage. When he was able to achieve so much in spite of bad health and his many other preoccupations as king, it was rather difficult for his nobles to claim they did not have time to learn their letters.

Harry Mileham’s 1909 oil painting showing King Alfred translating Pope Gregory the Great’s key Latin work, Pastoral Care. (Bridgeman)

 An early medieval micro-manager
Alfred’s demands on his subjects seem to have caused some resentment. Asser speaks of resistance to the building of fortresses as well as to the need to improve literacy skills. A document about a land dispute from the reign of Alfred’s son, Edward the Elder, asks “if one wishes to change every judgement which King Alfred gave, when shall we finish disputing?”, so reinforcing the picture that Asser paints of a King who was given to enquiring closely into legal cases. Alfred was much more of a micro-manager than many early-medieval kings and was aware of how his administrators might abuse their positions. But any resentment towards his demands is likely to have been countered by another of his characteristics – generosity. Generosity and conspicuous bravery, which Alfred also seems to have possessed, were the two most valued traditional attributes of early medieval kings. The converse of that was that Alfred could be harsh to those who defied him. Without going into details, Asser reveals that Alfred dealt severely with those who shirked fortress work or plotted the death of one of his foreign ecclesiastical advisers. In fact, it was fear of the consequences, as well as the lure of treasures like the Alfred Jewel, that persuaded members of the nobility to at least make a show of following their ruler’s interest in books, and encouraged defeated Vikings to embrace Christianity.

 It is almost impossible to get a full understanding of the character of any early medieval person, even one as relatively well recorded as King Alfred. Asser’s biography and the translations may provide some genuine insights, but they are also deliberately concerned with presenting a persona that promoted contemporary ideals of Christian kingship, what today we might refer to as spin. Asser makes no bones about revealing that King Solomon of the Old Testament, another ruler closely associated with the pursuit of wisdom, was a model for some of what he says about Alfred. Perhaps such a persona was actively adopted by the King to impress his subjects and mark his difference from them. The end result was, as the 19th-century historian Edward Freeman put it, that Alfred appears as “the most perfect man in history”.

 In the reign of Victoria in particular, he was adopted as an exemplar of all that was best in the English character and as the founder of English institutions and empire. The desire for Anglo-Saxon origins for 19th-century innovations led to some startling claims. For instance, Alfred’s modest provision of better schooling at the royal court led Arthur Conan Doyle to assert that “his standard was that every boy and girl in the whole of the nation should be able to read and write”. It was in this spirit that international celebrations were held in Winchester for Alfred’s millennium in 1901 which culminated in the unveiling of the statue of the King by Hamo Thornycroft. In 2008 a more 21st-century evaluation of Alfred is to be made in Winchester in the exhibition, Alfred the Great: Warfare, Wealth and Wisdom, which will explore the interaction between these concerns – something on which Alfred himself seems to have reflected to exceedingly good effect.

A statue of Alfred in Winchester. (Alamy)

 What did Alfred actually do?

1) Alfred travelled twice to Rome as a young boy, at the ages of four and six, and was received by the Pope. On his second visit he was accompanied by his father, King Æthelwulf. On the return journey they stayed with the great Frankish king, Charles the Bald, whose daughter married Æthelwulf.

 2) Alfred succeeded his brother Æthelred I as king of Wessex in 871, when he was 22 years old, in the midst of a major assault on the kingdom by a Viking army. Nine major battles were fought between Vikings and West Saxons in that year. They ended in stalemate and a temporary truce.

 3) After narrowly escaping capture by Vikings in 878, Alfred rallied to decisively defeat the Danish leader Guthrum at the battle of Edington in Wiltshire. Guthrum agreed to convert to Christianity, take the Anglo-Saxon name of Athelstan and retire to East Anglia, where the Anglo-Saxon royal family had been ousted in earlier Viking attacks.

 4) In 886 Alfred restored the city of London and moved the settlement from the Strand to inside its refurbished Roman walls. Control of London was given to Ealdorman Æthelred, the ruler of the western part of Mercia, who also became Alfred’s son-in-law. Their alliance was a major factor in countering Viking attacks.

 5) Alarmed by poor standards of learning in Wessex, Alfred recruited scholars from other parts of Britain and Europe in the late 880s. These included Asser from Wales and Grimbald and John from the Frankish empire. These men assisted Alfred in the translation of key Latin works into Old English.

 6) Alfred issued a new law code for his subjects that drew upon previous Anglo-Saxon laws and contemporary Frankish practice. Parallels were drawn between Anglo-Saxon and Old Testament law-making. The royal officials who administered the local law courts were encouraged to learn to read and also to act impartially.

 7) Between 892 and 896 Alfred had to face a second phase of major Viking attacks. Thanks to the reforms he had instigated in military service, and his foresight in having additional fortresses built and garrisons placed within them, the Vikings were unable to establish themselves and eventually dispersed.

 8) Alfred founded a monastery at Athelney and also a nunnery at Shaftesbury where one of his daughters became abbess. A new religious community was established in Winchester which was greatly enlarged after Alfred’s death in 899 by his son and successor Edward the Elder to become New Minster and the place of Alfred’s burial.

 Alfred’s World: Kingdoms under Viking attack
When Alfred was born in 849, there were four Anglo-Saxon kingdoms still in existence – Northumbria, East Anglia, Mercia and his own kingdom of Wessex, which consisted of England south of the Thames, plus Essex. Wales was also divided among a number of kingdoms and Alfred’s biographer Asser came from one of these, Dyfed in the south west. A further Welsh-speaking province was the kingdom of Strathclyde, but the two most significant players in the north of Britain were the Picts and the Irish of Dalriada (Argyll and adjacent islands) who were in the process of amalgamating to form Scotland.

 The greatest kingdom in mainland Europe was that of the Franks. Their famous king, Charlemagne, (768–814) had ruled a huge swathe of land consisting of the modern countries of France, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, Austria, Switzerland and most of Italy. However, during the ninth century these were divided into smaller kingdoms ruled by his heirs. Charlemagne had sponsored a major revival in Christian learning and culture, and in the ninth century it was to Francia that kings of less sophisticated areas, such as Wessex, looked for inspiration. Alfred had two Frankish clerical advisers, Grimbald from St Bertins and John from Saxony.

 The stability of all areas of western Europe was seriously threatened in the ninth century by attacks from Viking raiders from Denmark and Norway. Although similar in most respects to other peoples of western Europe, the Scandinavians were not Christians, and their raids became increasingly aggressive and difficult to counter as the century progressed. In fact, during the period 866–78, Viking leaders took over East Anglia, and much of Mercia and Northumbria. Wessex alone survived the onslaught and at the time of Alfred’s death in 899 he was the only Anglo-Saxon king still ruling in Britain.

 Barbara Yorke is professor of early medieval history at the University of Winchester.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

10 things you (probably) didn’t know about the Great Fire of London

History Extra

On 5 September 1666, the 33-year-old Samuel Pepys climbed the steeple of the ancient church of All Hallows-by-the-Tower and was met with the “the saddest sight of desolation that I ever saw; everywhere great fires, oyle-cellars, and brimstone, and other things burning”. Leaving the church, he wandered along Gracechurch Street, Fenchurch Street and Lombard Street towards the Royal Exchange, which he found to be “a sad sight” with all the pillars and statues (except one of Sir Thomas Gresham) destroyed. The ground scorched his feet and he found nothing but dust, ash and ruins. It was the fourth day of the Great Fire of London and, though some parts of the city would continue to burn for months, the worst of the destruction was finally over.

 Thanks in part to Pepys’s vivid diary entries, the story of the Great Fire is well known. Alongside the fortunes of Henry VIII’s wives, the Battle of Britain and the fate of Guy Fawkes, it forms part of a scattering of familiar islands in the muddy quagmire of British history. We all know, roughly speaking, what happened: during the early hours of 2 September 1666, a fire broke out in Thomas Farriner’s bakehouse on Pudding Lane, which blazed and spread with such ferocity and speed that within a few days the old City of London was reduced to a charred ruin. More than 13,000 houses, 87 churches and 44 livery halls were destroyed, the historic city gates were wrecked, and the Guildhall, St Paul’s Cathedral, Baynard’s Castle and the Royal Exchange were severely damaged – in some cases, beyond repair.

 Those with more than a passing knowledge of the crucial facts might be aware of accounts of King Charles II fighting the fire alongside his brother, the Duke of York; of Samuel Pepys taking pains to bury his prized parmesan cheese; or of the French watchmaker Robert Hubert meeting his death at Tyburn after (falsely) claiming to have started the blaze. Here are 10 more facts you may not know about the Great Fire of London…

 1) It did not start on Pudding Lane Thomas Farriner’s bakehouse was not located on Pudding Lane proper. Hearth Tax records created just before the fire place Farriner’s bakehouse on Fish Yard, a small enclave off Pudding Lane. His immediate neighbours included a waterbearer named Henry More, a sexton [a person who looks after a church and churchyard] named Thomas Birt, the parish ‘clearke’, a plasterer named George Porter, one Alice Spencer, a widow named Mrs Mary Whittacre, and a turner named John Bibie.

Billingsgate, London, pictured in 1598. Until boundary changes in 2003, the ward included Pudding Lane. (Photo by Culture Club/Getty Images)

 2) The Great Fire of London was not Thomas Farriner’s first brush with trouble In 1627, the then 10- or 11-year-old Thomas Farriner was discovered by a city constable wandering alone within the city walls, having run away from his master [it is not known why he had a master at this time]. He was detained at Bridewell Prison, where the incident was recorded in the book of minutes.

 During the 17th century, Bridewell (a former Tudor palace) was a kind of proto-correctional facility where young waifs and strays would often be sent to receive a rudimentary education, many of them then cherry-picked to become apprentices to the prison’s patrons.

 During the boy’s hearing, it transpired that he had attempted to run away from his master three or four times previously. Farriner was released, only to be detained once more in 1628 for the same reason. A year later he was apprenticed as a baker under one Thomas Dodson.

 3) Far from levelling the city, the Great Fire of London scorched the skin and flesh from the city’s buildings – but their skeletons remained The ruins of many of London’s buildings had to be demolished before rebuilding work could begin. A sketch from 1673 by Thomas Wyck shows the extent of the ruins of St Paul’s Cathedral that remained. John Evelyn described the remaining stones as standing upright, fragile and “calcined”. What’s more, the burning lasted months, not days: Pepys recorded that cellars were still burning in March of the following year. With plenty of nooks and crannies to commandeer, gangs operated among the ruins, pretending to offer travellers a ‘link’ (escorted passage) – only to rob them blind and leave them for dead. Many of those who lost their homes and livelihood to the fire built temporary shacks on the ruins of their former homes and shops until this was prohibited.

Old St Paul's Cathedral burning in the Great Fire of London, 1666. By Wenceslaus Hollar. (Photo by Guildhall Library & Art Gallery/Heritage Images/Getty Images)

 4) At the time of the Great Fire, England was engaged in a costly war with the Dutch Republic and was gearing up for one last battle The conflict, known as the Second Anglo-Dutch War, was the second of three 17th-century maritime wars to be fought between the English and the Dutch over transatlantic trade supremacy. By September 1666 there had already been five major engagements: the battle of Lowestoft (1665); the battle of Vågen (1665); the Four Days’ Battle (1666); St James’s Day Battle (1666); and Holmes’s Bonfire (1666).

 In the confusion of the blaze, some believed that the Great Fire of London had been started by Dutch merchants in retaliation for the last of these engagements – a vicious raid on the Dutch islands of Vlieland and Terschelling – which had occurred barely a month earlier. That attack had been orchestrated by Sir Robert Holmes (renowned for his short fuse and unpredictable nature) and resulted in the destruction of an estimated 150 Dutch merchant ships and, crucially, the torching of the town of West-Terschelling.

 While the attack was celebrated with bonfires and bells in London, it appalled the Dutch, and there was rioting in Amsterdam. Aphra Behn – at that time an English spy stationed in Antwerp – wrote how she had seen a letter from a merchant’s wife “that desires her husband to com [sic] to Amsterdam home for that theare [sic] never was so great a desolation & mourning”. Behn was supposed to travel to Dort to continue her espionage, but declared that she “dare as well be hang’d as go”.

 5) Though we do not know exactly how many people died as a result of the Great Fire of London, it was almost certainly more than commonly accepted figures In the traditional telling of the Great Fire story, the human cost is negligible. Indeed, only a few years after the blaze, Edward Chamberlayne claimed that “not above six or eight persons were burnt,” and an Essex vicar named Ralph Josselin noted that “few perished in the flames.” There was undoubtedly enough warning to ensure that a large proportion of London’s population vacated hazardous areas, but for every sick person helped out of their house, there must have been others with no one to aid them. What’s more, parish records hint at a far greater death toll than previously supposed.

 At the parish of St Giles Cripplegate, for example, the number of burials increased by a third (presumably a result of citizens from destroyed parishes using this surviving church). Interestingly, there was a disproportionate rise (by two-thirds) in the number of deaths due to being “aged” and an increase in deaths attributed to “fright”. Likewise, the parish records of St Boltoph Bishopsgate show that the mean age at the time of death rose by an astonishing 12 years, from 18.3 to 31.3. This suggests either that older people were more likely to die in the month of September or that, in an age in which infanticide was rife, the deaths of young infants were not being recorded – perhaps even both.

 The diarist John Evelyn certainly believed that the foul smell in the air at the time of the fire was caused by the bodies, beds and other combustible goods of “some poor creatures”, and the poet John Dryden – who, it must be said, was out of London at the time – wrote of “helpless infants left amidst the fire”. When reports reached France, a substantial loss of life was implied: “The letters from London speak of the terrible sights of persons burned to death and calcined limbs, making it easy to believe the terror though it cannot be exactly described. The old, tender children and many sick and helpless persons were all burned in their beds and served as fuel for the flames.”

 6) Louis XIV of France offered to help It took more than a week for news of the fire to reach the French royal court in Paris, but when it did there was talk of little else. The Venetian ambassador in the French capital declared that “this accident… will be memorable through all the centuries.” 

Privately, Louis XIV must have been thrilled. It was wrongly believed that the fire had destroyed England’s magazine stores and that the English navy would be forced to retire. Because of a 1662 treaty with the Dutch Republic, France had been obliged to enter the Anglo-Dutch War on the side of the Dutch, but the French king had neither the appetite nor the navy to play an active role.

 Louis XIV publicly ordered that he would not tolerate “any rejoicings about it [the Great Fire], being such a deplorable accident involving injury to so many unhappy people”, and offered to send aid in the shape of food provisions and anything else that might be required to relieve the suffering of those left destitute.

King Louis XIV of France, c1690. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

 7) There had been a genuine plot to burn the City of London In April 1666, a group of parliamentarians led by John Rathbone and William Saunders were tried at the Old Bailey and found guilty of conspiring to assassinate Charles II, overthrow government and fire the City of London, letting down the portcullis to keep out assistance. The trial was recorded in the London Gazette, which revealed that the plotters purportedly had the support of a conspirator in Holland and had planned to execute their “Hellish design” on the anniversary of Oliver Cromwell’s death, 3 September.

 8) People let their imaginations run away with them By 6 September, news of the fire had travelled as far as Berwick, where local soldiers claimed that they had seen visions of “ships in the air”. Reporting the phenomenon back to Whitehall, one Mr Scott assured his contact that he believed it to have just been their imaginations. As he travelled across Wiltshire to gather more information about the fire, Bulstrode Whitelocke bumped into his friend Sir Seymour Pyle who had “had too much wine”. Pyle claimed that there had been a huge fight between 60,000 Presbyterians and the militia, which had resulted in the death and imprisonment of 30,000 rebels. Whitelocke soon discovered that Pyle had been “drunke & swearing & lying att almost every word”.

London Bridge on fire during the Great Fire of London, 1666. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

 9) The Great Fire of London was predicted A few weeks before the fire, one Mr Light claimed to have been asked by a “zealous Papist”: “You expect great things in ’66, and think that Rome will be destroyed, but what if it be London?”

 Meanwhile, five months before the fire Elizabeth Styles claimed to have been told by a Frenchman that at some point between June and October there would not be “a house left between Temple Bar and London Bridge”.

 In 1651, an astrologer named William Lilly created a pamphlet entitled Monarchy or No Monarchy that contained illustrative predictions of the future state of England. The images depicted not only a city blazing with fire, but scenes of naval warfare, infestations of rodents, mass death and starvation. Unsurprisingly, Lilly was called in for questioning following the fire of 1666.

 10) The Great Fire wasn’t the only blaze in London in 1666 London was thrown into a panic during the evening of 9 November when a fire broke out in the Horse Guard House, next to Whitehall Palace. It was believed that the blaze had been caused by a candle falling into some straw. According to Samuel Pepys, the whole city was put on alarm by the “horrid great fire” and a lady even fell into fits of fear. With drums beating and guards running up and down the streets, by 10pm the fire was extinguished, with little damage caused.

 Rebecca Rideal is a specialist factual television producer and writer whose credits include The Adventurers’ Guide to Britain, Bloody Tales of the Tower and David Attenborough’s First Life. She runs the online magazine The History Vault and is currently studying for her PhD on Restoration London during the Great Plague and the Great Fire at University College London. Her latest book, 1666: Plague, War and Hellfire (John Murray, 2016), is out now.

Monday, September 18, 2017

Sunk by a Tsunami, Underwater Archaeologists Finally Find the Ruins of the Roman City Neapolis

Ancient Origins

After almost a decade of searching, the ruins of the city of Neapolis have finally been located. Based on their finds so far, researchers have confirmed that a tsunami hit the area in the 4th century AD. They have also decided the city likely held a monopoly over a fermented Roman delicacy. reports the vast Roman ruins were discovered off the coast of Nabeul, in northeast Tunisia. The submerged city stretches over 20 hectares (almost 50 acres). As some of Neapolis’ ruins remain aboveground, underwater archaeologists have been searching the region for the last seven years in hope of finding the underwater counterpart. Favorable weather allowed them to finally attain that goal this summer.

Based on underwater prospecting carried out at the site, the researchers have asserted Neapolis was partially submerged by a tsunami on July 21 in 365 AD, a natural disaster that also damaged Alexandria in Egypt and Greece’s island of Crete. This confirms an account recorded by the Roman soldier and historian Ammien Marcellin.

According to the Independent, Neapolis does not show up in many other records because it sided with Carthage over Rome during the Third Punic War in 149–146 BC.

 The researchers have discovered monuments, streets, and about 100 tanks that were used in the production of a fermented fish condiment known as garum.

Mounir Fantar, the head of a Tunisian-Italian archaeological mission said: “This discovery has allowed us to establish with certainty that Neapolis was a major center for the manufacture of garum and salt fish, probably the largest center in the Roman world. Probably the notables of Neapolis owed their fortune to garum.”

Vistor Labate described some details on Roman cuisine during the Empire era for Ancient Origins:

“[A]s Rome expanded and became more prosperous, food became more diverse. Romans became acquainted with the foods and cooking methods of the provinces […] The cena, which initially consisted of only one course, developed into two courses during the Republic: a main course and a dessert served with fruit or seafood. By the end of the Republic, it evolved into a three-course meal: the appetizer (gustatio), the main course (primae mensae) and the dessert (secundae mensae).”

‘The Romans of the Decadence’ (1847) by Thomas Couture. ( Public Domain )

But Labate writes that not everyone could eat that way, social class definitely played a role in the foods available to an individual:

 “[R]egular Romans could not afford to eat meat and expensive exotic foods from the provinces. They often ate the porridge made of emmer, salt, fat and water (the puls) with bread sprayed with a little bit of salt. Richer Romans ate the same porridge but added chopped vegetables, meat, cheese and various herbs to it. Bread was a staple food in ancient Rome which was often eaten with honey, olives, cheese or egg, noting that Romans also dipped their bread in wine.

‘Still life with glass bowl of fruit and vases’ by a Pompeian painter in 70 AD, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples, Italy. (Public Domain)

And if you are curious to know more about that fish paste, Pompeii Food and Drink describes it (and provides):

 “It was made by the crushing and fermentation in brine of the intestines of fish such as tuna, eel, anchovies, and mackerel. Because the production of garum created such an unpleasant smell, its fermentation was relegated to the outskirts of cities. The finished product was quite mild and subtle, and was mixed with wine, vinegar, pepper, oil, or water to enhance the flavor of many dishes. Garum is similar to fish sauce used today in Thai and Vietnamese cooking.”

Maybe garum would be a delicacy for some modern palates too?

Top Image: Underwater archaeologists off the coast of Nabeul in northeastern Tunisia at the site of the ancient Roman city of Neapolis. Source: Tunisian National Heritage Institute and the University of Sassari

By Alicia McDermott