Dispelling Some Myths: Medieval diversity

Despite the best efforts of historians, the internet is still awash with misconceptions about the Middle Ages. Many of these ideas were the product of Victorian writers and historians reflecting Mediæval life through the lens of their own society, as was done by antiquarians before and by historians since. However, after more than a century in popular culture and taught in schools, these sometimes broad, sweeping assertions remain deeply rooted in everyday consciousness, especially when repeatedly reinforced online, in social media, on television and in the movies. Before addressing one such notion, it is worth remembering that the Mediæval period lasted roughly 1,000 years during which peoples’ lives and experiences varied according to time, place and circumstance. With that in mind, just how diverse was mediæval Britain?

A previous post (Horrible History: Colour-blind history) raised Tastes Of History’s unease with how we are all increasingly encouraged to be gender neutral or colour blind in media portrayals of history whether that be on television, in films, in video games, or even in textbooks. In the post we used three instances of history documentaries, historically themed docudramas and straightforward television productions that had engaged in colour-blind or identity-conscious casting. While we were at pains to avoid being critical of actors playing a role, the chosen case studies were intended to highlight historical inaccuracies and then present a more accurate version of history. Wherever possible it is hoped we learnt something from critiquing each example.

People never travelled

This article seeks to dispel a couple of related “myths” we have encountered concerning how widely travelled people were in the Mediæval world and thus how diverse were Mediæval societies. There seems to be a popular perception that people rarely travelled much beyond their village or town. If travel broadens the mind, then some might be tempted to infer this is why Mediæval folk were ignorant of so much that we take for granted today. Some might contend that people thinking the earth was flat in the Middle Ages is proof of such ignorance and an indicator of their unwillingness to travel. Yet, flat-earthers, this is simply not true as we explained here.

What would be true is that many individuals did not have the chance or opportunity to travel very far, but the idea of it being extremely rare is incorrect. It was common for folk to travel to fairs and markets in neighbouring towns. Those of marriageable age might meet their intended at said fair or marketplace and, once married, one spouse may have relocated to a new town or village some miles away. Many people undertook pilgrimages to visit shrines and relics, sometimes in quite distant places, travelling many miles. The Canterbury Pilgrimage Route, for example, is a historic path known as “The Pilgrims’ Way” that connects Winchester with Canterbury Cathedral and the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket [1]. Following ancient trackways dating to 600-450 BC (or even earlier), the pilgrimage route is 119 miles (192 km) long taking travellers through the scenic southern English countryside. Pilgrimages remain popular today being undertaken to such destinations as Jerusalem, Rome, Santiago de Compostela, Fátima, Lourdes or Einsiedeln. Indeed, pilgrim badges and souvenirs, such as the examples pictured from the British Museum’s collection, have been found all over Europe and it was not just the rich and wealthy who took the time to make these journeys.

Alongside the pilgrims the byways of this country were crisscrossed by messengers, embassies, merchants, vagabonds, preachers, missionaries, scholars, and soldiers. More widely, trade drove travel and exploration. Access to the lucrative spice trade, for example, propelled Cristoforo Colombo (aka Christopher Columbus) to circumnavigate the globe westwards to establish a new trade route to India. Little did he know he would “discover” the Americas or indeed instigate a European conquest of the New World and the establishment of transatlantic trade.

Royal progresses

From the Frankish period (ca. AD 751 to AD 887) up to late Mediæval times the usual form of royal or imperial government was the “itinerant court”. Throughout this era Mediæval Western Europe was characterized by migratory forms of government wherein monarchs frequently relocated their court complete with all its entourage. This mobile administration was important at a time when rulers had to be seen to exercise their power in person, especially over potentially rebellious regional nobles, and keep control of their various dynastic lands or kingdom. By constantly changing their residences these realms had no actual centre or permanent seat of government. From the 13th-century, however, itinerant courts were gradually replaced as royal residences began to develop into modern capital cities. Even so, Royal Progresses as they were known remained an important way for English monarchs to govern. After the Wars of the Roses, in his first few years as king, Henry VII (r. 1485 - 1509) travelled widely in England to consolidate his rule. Henry’s successors continued the practice, with the last Tudor Royal Progress undertaken by Queen Elizabeth I in the summer of 1602, mere months before she died in March 1603.

Without a doubt Elizabeth was renowned for moving her court away from her great palaces during the summer months to visit the homes of various favoured courtiers in turn. Naturally, there were practical reasons for such progresses. Firstly, the royal “palaces could be ‘purged’ after several months of residency, especially once the stench of human ordure had become too much to tolerate” (Lamb, 2012). With the Queen absent the royal apartments would be swept and scrubbed clean. Aromatic herbs were burnt to dispel bad smells, and the palace cesspits dug out and emptied. Indeed, it was widely believed even into the 17th-century that “bad air” [2], the polluted stench of towns and cities, spread pestilence and disease. So, the second reason behind the court exodus was a very real fear of plague. By contrast the fresh air of the countryside was believed a protection against sickness making a Royal Progress during the spring and summer eminently sensible. The scale of Elizabeth’s annual Progresses was an enormous logistical undertaking. Not only did the Queen take the bulk of her courtiers with her on these trips around the country, but she was also accompanied by a fleet of her own household servants, including laundresses, seamstresses, cooks and grooms. What is more she travelled with all the usual accoutrements of her court including “selections of gowns and finery for the Queen and her ladies, hats, shoes, jewellery, goblets and tableware, precious books, even a selection of her palace furniture in case the house she visited was too humble for her taste” (Lamb 2012). Additional servants would be needed to tend to the courtiers, particularly the members of the Privy Council who were ordered to accompany the Queen. To host Elizabeth's Progress was considered a great honour, even though the unfortunate courtier charged with housing, feeding, and entertaining this vast travelling retinue would be expected to bear the cost of almost every expense incurred. Undoubtedly many such courtiers hoped to recoup their losses by increasing their status at court.

Not racially diverse?

By now it should be fairly evident that in the Middle Ages people travelled far more than some today might assume. In Mediæval towns and cities could be found merchants, sailors and pilgrims from all over the then known world. Even smaller villages were visited by outsiders during market days, fairs, or special occasions. Yet, with all this movement of people Mediæval society was still not as racially diverse as it is today or as it is sometimes portrayed in historically themed films or costume dramas on television. This leads us to the second related “myth” that the kingdoms and principalities across Mediæval Europe were ethnically homogenous, and Europeans would never have seen or interacted with anyone of African or Asian ancestry. Yet, seeing a black person on the streets of Mediæval London would not have been as remarkable as one might think. Albeit in small numbers, people from northern and sub-Saharan Africa had been resident in Britain since Roman times.

In 1901, the skeletal remains of a woman were uncovered in an ancient grave in York. Dated to the second half of the 4th-century AD, her remains were discovered in a stone coffin along with ivory bracelets, earrings, pendants and other expensive possessions suggesting she held a high-ranking position within Roman York (Eboracum). Predictably she became known as the “Ivory Bangle Lady”. Over a century later modern isotope analysis revealed she had spent her early years in a warmer climate, and the morphology of her skull indicated she had some North African ancestry. The discovery provided evidence that early Britain may have been more ethnically diverse than previously believed. More significantly, her status also contradicts any simplistic notions that just because she had African ancestry, she would have been enslaved.

Just over 50 years later, in 1953, another ancient skeleton was discovered at Beachy Head, East Sussex. The identity of this individual was not revealed until 2014 when modern forensic techniques including isotope analysis, radiocarbon dating and facial reconstruction, concluded the skeleton was female and had lived around AD 200-250. It was determined she was lived in a Roman area in the south-east of England, had died in her early twenties and had sub-Saharan African ancestry. She became the earliest known black Briton, and her discovery supports the view that people from beyond the North African Roman border were also present in 3rd-century AD Britain.

The 1950s also saw the archaeological excavation in York of the largest number of human skeletons from Roman Britain ever exhumed. These individuals were also dated to the 3rd-century AD, with several of them being of African origin. Importantly they reflected the various levels of society from the enslaved to soldiers and once again demonstrated that Roman York may well have been more diverse than previously thought. Since then, other archaeological discoveries have shown further African presence in Roman Britain. The University of Leicester uncovered 83 skeletons in a Roman graveyard, with some of the individuals dating to as early as the 2nd-century AD. Six of the skeletons were found to have African cranial features, two of whom appearing to have been born in England. DNA analysis on a group of Roman Londoners also revealed two with North African ancestry.

There were other Africans who built and garrisoned Hadrian’s Wall. A 3rd-century AD inscription from Burgh-by-Sands near Carlisle attests that a cohort of Mauri from northwest Africa were present. As part of the Roman auxiliary forces, Syrians helped to establish and to build the province of Britannia. In the corpus of Roman inscriptions from Britain, there are numerous examples of individuals who identify as Syrians by nationality. The single most remarkable instance is attested on a lavish (and undoubtedly expensive) memorial discovered in Arbeia (South Shields) at the eastern end of Hadrian’s Wall. The inscription mourns the death of Regina, a 30 year old woman of the Catuvellauni tribe whose lands consisted of the home counties north of London. Significantly, the inscription declares she was a freedwoman and the wife of one Barathes, a native of Palmyra in Syria. Moreover, from his own tombstone we learn he was flag seller, but we can only wonder what the background to their relationship might have been and what Regina and Barathes were doing in Roman Britain near Hadrian’s Wall.

Middle Saxon England included notable churchmen such as Hadrian, the late 7th-/early 8th-century Abbot of Saint Augustine’s Abbey in Canterbury [3] who, according to Bede, was “by nation an African” (Bede, Historia Ecclesiastica, IV.1). Born between AD 630 and AD 637, Hadrian is thought to have grown up in Libya Cyrenaica and was thus a Berber. He moved to Italy after the mid-7th-century Arab conquest of North Africa. He was a noted teacher and commentator of the Bible, was abbot of a monastery near Naples, and travelled widely. He arrived in England sometime after May 669 having been charged by Pope Vitalian to accompany his friend Theodore of Tarsus, the newly appointed archbishop of Britain.

While evidence of an African presence in Roman Britain has been well documented, the relative size of that population is far from certain. For now, however, maintaining an appropriate historical balance is desirable. So, contrary to the current colour-blind casting trend, the available data suggests that non-Europeans were not as commonplace in Mediæval England as today’s media would have us believe. That said, late Mediæval/early Modern (Tudor) records do document groups of Persians, Indians and “Moors” [4] (North African Berbers or Arabs [5]) living freely in small communities in Britain. In fact, from the entries in parish records for London in the 16th-century quite a few “moors” and “negroes” are listed not just living in the city but married and with children.

From 1993 to 2006, Professor Susan Black and her team carried out a series of archaeological digs in the cemetery of the Greyfriars monastery in Ipswich, Suffolk. Nine skeletons from Sub-Saharan Africa origin were found at the grave site. Their presence potentially illustrates even earlier the role of Africans in the Crusades of the 13th-century. The forensic investigation of one of the skeletons was highlighted in the BBC programme History Cold Case (Series 1, Episode 1 “Ipswich Man”), first broadcast in July 2010. The remains dubbed “Ipswich Man” were believed to have been brought back to Mediæval Britain by returning crusaders around AD 1270.

Returning to the Tudor period, in 2021 it was reported that multi-isotope analysis on the teeth of eight crew members found among the remains of the Tudor warship Mary Rose [6] revealed Henry VIII’s favourite ship had a diverse crew. The research by Cardiff University, in partnership with the Mary Rose Trust and the British Geological Survey, revealed chemical tracers remaining within the teeth from the food and water the men consumed in childhood. This provided evidence for their early years geographical location and allowed the team to explore the sources of their diets. Published in the journal Royal Society Open Science, the data suggests as many as three of the eight crew in the study may have originated from warmer, more southerly climates than Britain, such as southern European coasts, Iberia and North Africa. Researchers say the remaining five crew members were likely to have been brought up in western Britain, with further analysis suggesting one of these men was of African ancestry. The team’s findings highlight the important contributions that individuals of diverse backgrounds and origins made to the English navy during this period and adds to the ever-growing body of evidence for diversity in geographic origins, ancestry and lived experiences in Tudor England.

Mediæval society focused on religion and its doctrine but not so much on race, and certainly not as a form of inequality between humans. In his book “Black and British” (2021), David Olusoga offers a revealing insight into medieval perspectives on blackness and whiteness. To call someone “black” in Shakespeare's England, for example, was an insult but not necessarily one connected with that person’s race. Rather the colour itself was charged with negative symbolism. In contrast, “whiteness” embodied purity, virginity, and divinity. The concept is immortalised when Queen Elizabeth I whitened her skin with lead-based makeup to symbolise her status as the  “virgin queen”. Put simply, in the ages old “good versus evil” trope, black was widely understood to signify bad while white denoted good.

While in Europe

Beyond Britain, Mediæval Europe stretched southward to the Mediterranean Sea where, in southern Spain and Italy, interaction with people from the African continent was far more common. By the 1600s as much as 5–7% of the population in Portugal had origins in Africa. Statistically speaking that is not a large percentage of the population of the Iberian Peninsula but the evidence gives the lie to any notion that Mediæval Europe was wholly “white”. Africans and Asians were most definitely present albeit in comparably small numbers.

It would be unfair, and unwise, to claim that all of Europe was racially diverse for the entire Mediæval period. Likewise, it would be equally inaccurate to claim that for 1,000 years across the whole continent there were only ever white folks. Yes, it could be argued that those living in more remote, little inland villages, the chances of meeting people of darker skin tones or of other cultures or “races” was statistically unlikely. Yet, it is not impossible. From the historical evidence it is clear Mediæval people both travelled often, and that Europeans, Africans and Asians lived, worked and died alongside each other in the towns and cities of Britain and further afield. Bon appétit!

References:

Brown-Leonardi, C., (2021), “The Moors, Black Presence in the United Kingdom Before and After the Tudor Period”, Black History Month Presentations, The Open University, available online (accessed 31 December 2025).

Lamb, V, (2012), “Elizabeth I's Royal Progresses and Kenilworth Castle”, English Historical Fiction Authors blog, available online (accessed 4 August 2025).

Sky History, (2025), “The history of black Britain: Roman Africans”, history.co.uk, available online (accessed 6 August 2025).

Stevenson, C., “The Struggles of Travel in the Middle Ages”, Medievalists.net, available online (accessed 4 August 2025).

Endnotes:

1. You may have heard his name pronounced “Thomas à Becket”, but this was not contemporary with his life. Rather it was first used in the 1590s by Thomas Nashe, an English Elizabethan playwright, poet, satirist and a significant pamphleteer. ▲

2. The Italian word mal'aria is derived from “mala aria”, literally meaning “bad air”, a combination of mala “bad” (fem. of malo, from Latin malus) plus aria “air”. ▲

3. St. Augustine's Abbey was originally the Benedictine Monastery of St. Peter and St. Paul but changed its name after its founder St. Augustine of Canterbury's death. The abbey was founded in AD 598 and functioned as a monastery until its dissolution in 1538 during the English Reformation. After the abbey's dissolution, it underwent dismantlement until 1848 whereupon part of the site was repurposed as boarding houses and a library for The King's School, Canterbury. Today the abbey ruins have been preserved for their historical value.

4. The word “Moor” is a historical term coined by European Christians to describe the Muslim inhabitants of the Maghreb (North Africa), Andalusia (Spain), Sicily, and Malta. It derives from “Mauri,” the Latin name for the Berbers who lived in the Roman province of Mauretania, spanning modern Algeria and Morocco.

5. They call themselves Amazigh, the “proud raiders”, but most people know them as Berbers. This term was introduced in the 7th-century by Muslim Arabs who invaded North Africa. The Berbers have traditionally inhabited the lands lying between the Sahara and the Mediterranean Sea, between Egypt and the Atlantic. Today, most live in Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria and Libya. Contrary to popular opinion, the Berbers are not necessarily nomadic with many living in villages and farming the land or thriving on local industries, such as iron, copper, lead, pottery, weaving and embroidery. For millennia, North African Berbers fought against Roman, Arab and French invaders. Yet, despite a history of colonisation, they have defended their land and preserved their tamazight language and culture.

6. The Mary Rose was a successful warship and served Henry VIII for 34 years. She sank during the Battle of the Solent in AD 1545, off the south coast of England, resulting in the deaths of most of her crew. In 1982, 437 years after she sank, the remains of the Mary Rose and 19,000 artefacts were recovered, many thousands of which are conserved and displayed by the Mary Rose Trust in Portsmouth Historic Dockyard, where they have been the subject of extensive research ever since.

Saintly Deities

Around December every year neo-pagans delight in posting on social media that “Christmas is a pagan festival” derived from the Roman celebration of Saturnalia. For the record, it is not. Christmas is very definitely a Christian festival whose name literally means “a mass for Christ”. Yet, perhaps because of the proximity of the dates, the popularity of Saturnalia did survive into the third and fourth centuries AD, and then later as a secular celebration long after it was removed from the official calendar (Salzman, 2007, 121.). As the Roman Empire became Christianised, some of the “pagan” customs influenced the seasonal celebrations surrounding Christmas and the New Year (Beard, North and Price, 1998, 124). As William Warde Fowler [1] wrote: “[Saturnalia] has left its traces and found its parallels in great numbers of medieval and modern customs, occurring about the time of the winter solstice” (Fowler, 1908, 271). Indeed, many western European Christians continued the traditional Saturnalia customs such as feasting and gift-giving while also celebrating Christmas and its associated holidays. Afterall, midwinter was a time to eat, drink, and be merry.

The [superficial] similarities between Saturnalia customs and those that continued and still contribute to Christmas festivities today piqued Tastes Of History’s curiosity about other related connections. As the ancient pantheon of deities gave way to the One God of the “Abrahamic religions”, what happened to all those gods and goddesses? Did they wake one morning only to discover they were out of a job? Did they simply fade into obscurity as fewer people revered them or even remembered them? Or have they survived, albeit in a revised form, in much the same manner as our very ancient midwinter festivities have been absorbed or accepted as part of the modern Christmas?

It is fairly evident that Christianity, and especially the Catholic Church, has very deep roots in the ancient Roman world. This should not be surprising as the early church was undoubtedly influenced by the institutions around it and would have wanted to feel familiar to converts to the fledgling religion. Thus, the Catholic Church’s structure, traditions and even vestments have clear antecedents in Roman religion. If one needed an example, the term pontiff is still used to refer to the head of the Roman Catholic church. In ancient Rome, however, a pontiff (Latin: pontifex; “high priest” from a root meaning “bridge-maker”) was a member of the most illustrious college of priests in Roman religion, namely the College of Pontiffs. As Christianity was embraced in Rome, and later across its empire, “pontiff” was the title given to the bishops of the early Church. While it remains accurate to call any Catholic bishop a pontiff, most Catholics today reserve the word for the Bishop of Rome, otherwise known as the Pope [2]. Even with so many shared roots, Christianity is obviously distinct from the earlier “pagan”, polytheistic Roman beliefs.

Threesome

Principal amongst all the deities worshipped by the Romans was the Capitoline Triad. This trio consisted of Jupiter, the supreme god of the Roman pantheon and head of the triad, and two goddesses, namely Juno his consort and Minerva his daughter. Like many things Roman, the triad was probably adopted from the Etruscans whom the Romans had largely conquered by 264 BC; the last Etruscan cities being formally absorbed into Rome by 27 BC. The supreme triad of gods in the Etruscan pantheon consisted of Tinia, Uni, and Menrva, who clearly matched Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva (their Greek counterparts are Zeus, Hera, and Athena). The Capitoline Triad occupied an important place in the public religion of Rome, and temples dedicated to them were built in various parts of the Roman world. The grouping of three gods, usually by importance or similar roles, has parallels in many religious contexts. Triads of three closely associated deities are commonly found throughout history, especially in the religious traditions of ancient Greece and Egypt but also in Norse mythology (Odin, Thor and Freyr), Hinduism (for example Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva (Trimurti) in Puranic Hinduism or Mitra, Aryaman, and Varuna in early Vedic Hinduism), Buddhism (the Sahā Triad of Shakyamuni, Avalokitesvara and Ksitigarbha), and many more. In most cases a triad of gods were usually not considered to be one in the same being or different aspects of a single deity such as in a Trinity or Triple deity. The Christian doctrine of the Trinity (Latin: Trinitas, lit. ”triad”, from Latin: trinus “threefold”) differs in this respect defining God as one being existing in three co-equal, co-eternal, consubstantial persons: God the Father, God the Son (Jesus Christ) and God the Holy Spirit. For Christians these three distinct persons share one essence. Within Christianity, therefore, an omnipotent Trinity meant there was no need to retain the numerous gods and goddesses of earlier times.

Religion was an essential part of daily life in ancient Rome. It helped Romans make sense of things both good and bad. Natural disasters or lost battles were believed to be evidence that the gods were unhappy. When things went well, then the opposite was true and the gods clearly favoured Rome. So, what follows is a list of the most frequently encountered ancient Roman deities together with their realm(s) of influence. Some gods and goddesses may be familiar because the Romans appropriated them from Greek mythology, so their Greek counterparts are in parentheses. Certain deities, however, are peculiar to the Romans having no Greek equivalent. For example, Volturnus the Roman god of water is represented in Greek mythology by several gods and goddesses. In most cases the deity’s name was changed when rendered in Latin, Apollo being one exception, while some names vary slightly in spelling (Ouranos to Uranus, Herakles to Hercules). Furthermore, in the two mythologies the gods may possess or represent different traits. It is not an exhaustive list by any means as there were many more minor deities and spirits venerated or worshipped by the highly superstitious Romans. One example were the household lemures who were malevolent spirits the Romans believed to be the restless souls of the dead who had not receive proper burial rites and were feared for their potential to harm the living.

Alongside the Graeco-Roman deity’s name and sphere of influence is a third column suggesting a corresponding Catholic saint who, on the surface at least, seems to perpetuate a most ancient practice. It is notable that with six entries, Saint Francis of Assissi is doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Others of mention are Saint George and Saint Michael the Archangel with four entries each, and Saints Ignatius of Loyola and Gerard Majella both with three. So, where one can no longer call on Fortuna to bring good luck, then perhaps an entreaty to Saint Cajetan might do the trick. Similarly, caring for or watching over children might be assisted with prayers to the man who inspired Santa Claus himself, Saint Nicholas of Myra, and every February Saint Valentine could be called upon to ensure love is in the air. All of which is not to belittle belief in the saints or make fun of someone’s religious convictions. It is, however, intriguing that human nature seems hard-wired not to forsake the old ways but rather to assimilate them into new beliefs and practices. Perhaps we do prefer continuity to change.

Hopefully this comparative exercise has been of some interest. We cannot stress enough that no offence is intended. We were simply intrigued by the apparent parallels, and what this might say about us and our enduring beliefs. Bon appétit!

References:

Beard, M., North, J.A. and Price, S.R.F. (1998), “Religions of Rome: A Sourcebook” vol. 2, Cambridge University Press.

Fowler, W.W., (1908), “The Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic”, London, p. 271.

Salzman, M.R., (2007), “Religious Koine and Religious Dissent”, in “A Companion to Roman Religion”, Blackwell, p. 121.

Endnotes:

1. William Warde Fowler (May 16th, 1847 - June 15th, 1921) was an English historian and ornithologist, and tutor at Lincoln College, Oxford. He was best known for his influential works on ancient Roman religion, specifically “The Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic” (1899).

2. The word pope derives from Ancient Greek πάππας (páppas) meaning “father”. In the early centuries of Christianity, the title was applied, especially in the East, to all bishops and other senior clergy. Later in the West, during the reign of Pope Leo I (AD 440 to AD 461), it became reserved for the Bishop of Rome. This distinction was made official in the 11th-century.

About History: Othismos and the ancient Greek phalanx

By the 7th-century BC the Greek city-states had adopted the phalanx (pl. phalanxes) as their fighting formation. Armoured hoplites (Greek: ὁπλῖται, hoplitai; sing. ὁπλίτης hoplitēs) formed up in close-order, shoulder-to-shoulder, their shields locked together. The first few ranks of men would project their spears beyond the first rank of shields. The phalanxes advanced towards each other usually at walking pace to maintain cohesion. If the formation was lost, the phalanx would be weakened or rendered useless. It is possible, however, that the hoplites picked up the pace, perhaps breaking into a run during the last few metres. The additional speed needed to be sufficient to gain momentum against the enemy in the initial collision. The famous charge of Athenian hoplites at the Battle of Marathon (490 BC), however, was probably precipitated by a desire to minimize their losses to Persian archery.

Orthodoxy  According to the orthodox view of othismos (“pushing”), the opposing phalanxes would collide, possibly breaking many of the front rank’s spears while attempting to maim or kill the opposing front rank. If one side did not collapse because of this clash, then the men in the succeeding ranks pressed their large round shields (Greek: ἀσπίς, aspis; pl. ἀσπίδες, aspides) against the backs of the men in front and pushed them forward. The combined physical onslaught of one densely packed mass of men was opposed by the counterthrust of the enemy phalanx, shield against shield. Eventually, one side was forced back and its formation disrupted, the hoplites perhaps being literally knocked over and trampled. There was little or no actual fighting after the initial, very brief clash of spears and the struggle essentially became a decisive pushing match (Hanson, 1989, 169). Indeed, Thucydides described hoplite warfare as othismos aspidon or “the push of shields”. As a rule, with few recorded exceptions, the deeper phalanx would almost always win. The orthodox model of collision and push (othimos) has been likened to a scrum in rugby or the scrimmage in American football. This is the view championed by V.D. Hanson in his detailed examination of hoplite warfare.

Evidence?  Yet, no ancient Greek historian explicitly tells us that othismos involved all ranks packing together in a united push to drive their enemy physically backward. Despite this omission, we know hoplite phalanxes were deployed with a series of ranks behind the first. It seems very rare for a phalanx to be less than eight ranks deep from the available evidence, and much deeper formations were not uncommon. Most hoplites in the phalanx, therefore, were unable to reach the enemy with their spears (Greek: δόρυ, dory or doru). They might have been able to finish off fallen enemies with their spear’s butt spike (Greek: σαυρωτήρ, sarouter) and certainly gave moral support to the front rank men doing the actual fighting, but they cannot have inflicted any significant damage upon the enemy. If the othismos was a massed shove, then it would seem to explain the presence of these, otherwise largely superfluous, men on the battlefield. This is the basic tenet of the traditional view of “massed shoving” to explain the role of the rear ranks of a phalanx. Yet if this was the only purpose of successive ranks, then the larger phalanx would always win.

The literary evidence supporting the collision and pushing match is far from extensive, however. Tyrtaeus’ poetry contains a description of two opposing sides clashing “shield against round shield” as does Aristophanes’ comedic play “Peace”. Neither author names a specific battle but the use of the concept in poetry and theatre suggests audiences were familiar with battles fought this way. Beyond the arts, historical accounts of hoplite engagements refer to a press of shields. At the Battle of Delium in 424 BC, Thucydides describes how the two sides collided at the run and fought with a “pushing of shields”. Likewise, during the Battle of Mantinea (418 BC) he also described how the Spartans “advanced” and “pressed” the opposing Argive and Arcadian hoplites routing them, yet it is unclear whether this was shield-to-shield (Thucydides, “History of the Peloponnesian War”, 5.73). In his account Hellenica, Xenophon states that during the later stages of the Battle of Coronea in 394 BC, the Theban and Spartan phalanxes collided head-on at the run and were similarly pressed “shield against shield” (Matthews, 2009, 397). Yet Xenophon and others also use a variation of the term “shield pressed against shield” to describe a close-order shield wall. In these instances, it is clear the phalanxes were not engaged with an enemy, merely waiting to receive an attack. 

Tyrtaeus’ suggestion that hoplites “reach forth and strike the foe” evokes the idea that hoplite combat being conducted at spear’s length from the enemy. Descriptions of battles, for example those of Plataea (479 BC), Sphacteria (425 BC) and Piraeus (404 BC), all record one side being “pushed” or “pressed back” but in a figurative sense. Xenophon employs this sense in his work Hellenica where he describes how the Thebans “pressed” the Spartans at the Battle of Leuctra fought on July 6th, 371 BC (Xenophon, Hellenica, 6.4.14). In these instances, the phalanxes need not have been shield-to-shield, rather the overwhelmed side may simply have been forced backward at the spearpoints of their opponents. Alternatively, as on the island of Sphacteria, when the Athenians engaged the Spartans at range with skirmishers and peltasts [1], the heavily armoured Spartans were pinned in place and could not close to hand-to-hand fighting (Matthews, 2009, 399). The earlier Battle of Thermopylae (480 BC) had ended in a similar manner for the 300 Spartan, 700 Thespian and 400 Theban hoplites defending the famous pass. On the third day, as the Persian Immortals approached, the Greeks withdrew and took a stand on a hill behind the Phocian wall that defended the narrowest part of the pass. Herodotus says:

“In that place they defended themselves with swords, if they still had them, and with hands and teeth. The barbarians buried them with missiles, some attacking from the front and throwing down the defensive wall, others surrounding them on all sides.” (Herodotus, Histories, 7.225.3)

Tearing down part of the wall, Xerxes ordered the hill surrounded before the Persians rained down arrows until every hoplite was dead.

As an aside, the orthodox view that phalanx warfare centred on othismos seems very akin to the “push of pike” that used to accompany re-enactments of English Civil War battles some years ago (pictured right). At that time two opposing blocks of pikemen would advance on each other with pikes levelled to threaten the “enemy”. A few metres before contact the pikes would be angled upward, and the two blocks would then crash to together in a pushing contest [2]. While this sounds very much like the description of othismos, the tactic was not historically accurate but based on health and safety concerns to limit injury to individual re-enactors while still creating a spectacle for audiences. Historically such pike blocks would have advanced to contact whereupon the leading ranks would fence with their pikes to spear their opponents - the equivalent of ancient Greek doratismos (see below).

What to do with the spear?  The hoplite phalanx dominated warfare among the Greek City States from the 7th- into the 4th-century BC. If we have interpreted phalanx warfare correctly, and it is far from clear that we have, then othismos being a shield against shield pushing match seems only half the story. The hoplite panoply, specifically the degree of protection it provides, is far better suited to fighting with spears. During this period the men equipped themselves with a large round shield (aspis) and a 2.1 m to 2.7 m (7–9 ft) long spear (doru or dory) with a sharpened iron blade (aichme) and bronze butt-spike (sauroter). Practical experimentation based on contemporary representations has determined the most likely manner in which hoplites fought. Within the phalanx each man stood at an angle, their left shoulder braced into the dished bowl of their shield while refusing the other shoulder to protect the vulnerable right side of the body while maintaining the ability to deliver spear thrusts (van Wees, 2000, 128-30). This fighting stance positions the feet and legs in a strong attacking platform but also means the hoplite is braced in defence to resist a clash of shields. The latter fits well with the orthodox view of othismos which sees successive hoplites pushing their shields against the right shoulder or back of the man in front. Yet, with his opponent’s shield pressed against his own, the hoplite would be pinned between his comrades and his enemies, vulnerable and unable to strike with his spear. This lack of manoeuvrability among those in close contact is rather neatly captured in the attempt by modern re-enactors to perform othismos pictured below. The image also shows how the cohesiveness of both front ranks might quickly dissolve and how striking with a spear becomes almost hopeless.

So, if the tactic was for two opposing phalanxes to crash into each other and simply push shield-to-shield, then why carry a long spear? In such close-order fighting, the dory effectively becomes an incumbrance. Far better would be to ditch the spear in favour of a shorter weapon such as the sword (xiphos or kopis) by which the hoplite could strike at his opponent from behind his protective shield. This was clearly the favoured tactic of later Roman armies where it certainly proved decisive against the Macedonian phalanx at the Battle of Cynoscephalae in 197 BC.

The Roman model also raises questions about the density of phalanx formations if hoplites were to use their weapons effectively. Thucydides’ description of the Battle of Mantinea reveals that “fear makes each man do his best to shelter his unarmed side with the shield of the man next to him on the right, thinking that the closer the shields are locked together the better he will be protected” (Thucydides, 5.71). This has been the foundation of nearly all recreations of phalanx warfare but rather unfortunately it ignores the maxim that no plan survives contact with the enemy. It can be shown throughout ancient Greek history, including Homeric period warfare, that each battlefield situation dictated the density of a formation. So, while hoplites might have sought protection from their neighbour, they would still need space both to fight and defend themselves.

Peter Krentz argues that a lack of armour for the sarissae wielding “phalangites” [3] meant that Phillip II of Macedon’s phalanxes adopted much tighter formations for added morale and physical protection. The Macedonian king also devised the hedge of sarissae that later so frightened his enemies and, under the right conditions, prevented them from penetrating close enough to do damage with their shorter spears and swords. By contrast, the classical hoplite’s head-to-foot armour instilled confidence in their protection allowing their formations to open the spacing to three feet between men (Krentz, 1985, 52). Both Krentz and van Wees argue that each hoplite thus occupied a six foot space within which they could wield their weapons effectively while limiting an opponent’s opportunities to attack his vulnerable unshielded right side. Any man attempting such an attack would have to be mindful that they were within spear thrusting range from a neighbouring opposing hoplite (van Wees, 2004, 185-186; Krentz, 1985, 51-53).

On SoA Forums, Society member Patrick Waterson described five stages characterising a hoplite battle:

1.  Ephodos (the “charge”) as previously mentioned in Thucydides’ description of the Battle of Delium, Xenonphon’s account of the Battle of Coronea, and the famous charge of the Athenians at the Battle of Marathon.

2.  Doratismos (the “spearing”) evoked by Tyrtaeus’ portrayal of hoplites “reach[ing] forth and [striking] the foe”. Once the phalanxes have closed on one another, then the first contact involved spear fighting rather than a pushing match.

3.  En chersi (the “hand-to-hand”) as evidenced by Herodotus’ account of the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 BC. The hoplites defending the Pass fought with spears, until every spear was shattered, and then switched to xiphē (short swords).

4.  Othismos (the “pushing”) only appears after all other avenues aimed at defeating or overwhelming the enemy had been exhausted. It is notable that the close-order mêlée (en chersi) precedes the shield-to-shield pushing contest (othismos) suggesting that the latter was a means by which men in the rearward files lent their weight to an otherwise static melee once the front-rank men were exhausted and no longer capable of giving their best.

5.  Trope (the “collapse”) could occur very rapidly, even at or before first contact, as indicated by the accounts of battles such as First Mantinea (418 BC).

It would be a mistake to assume all hoplite battles rigidly adhered to these five stages. Circumstance may necessitate a stage being quickly concluded, or long and drawn out, or omitted all together. As Waterson says: “two fairly evenly balanced sides may well find themselves going through all the stages until during othismos it becomes a case of ‘One more push, men, and they will break!’” Regardless, a general pattern emerges whereupon the opposing phalanxes close with each other, perhaps at the run, followed by a mêlée at spearpoint or hand-to-hand with swords. Only when those men in the leading ranks are tired or wounded and unable to effectively continue the hand-to-hand fight might any form of “pushing” contest occur. At this point fatigue might dictate that the first phalanx to yield ground would be unlikely to recover. If, as the orthodox view implies, othismos occurred much earlier when both phalanxes were fresh and invigorated, then a pushing contest might not necessarily produce one side’s collapse.

Undoubtedly this form of combat would have been both physically and mentally exhausting, so it is highly likely that natural pauses would have occurred during a prolonged battle. Such pauses would usefully allow both sides to catch their collective breath, redress their lines, recover the wounded and replace them with men drawn from the succeeding ranks. If the latter is correct, does this interpretation explain the depth of the phalanx? Rather than simply adding their weight to a pushing contest, the additional ranks might be viewed as tactical replacements.

A conclusion?  If doratismos and en chersi are correct, then having the space to wield their weapons means the pushing contest with opposing hoplites shield-to-shield, and pressed forward by their fellows in succeeding ranks, seems impractical. For othismos to occur necessitates the phalanx to transition into close-order which, for ordinary hoplites not particularly well drilled in such manoeuvres, might not be so easy to achieve especially in the press of battle. Is it, therefore, more reasonable to conclude that ancient historians used the term othismos in a more figurative sense. Indeed, Homer uses the word “othismos” in the Iliad even though most historians generally agree that Homeric warfare was fought in very loose formations (Homer, Illiad, 569, 655). Compare that style of fighting to the close-quarter, hand-to-hand mêlée of the 4th- and 5th-centuries and it strongly suggests othismos was a reference to the gradual gaining of ground by forcing - “pushing” - the enemy rearward. This may well have involved pressing forward shield-to-shield, but the primary sources never allude to one mass shove. Rather most describe how armies surged forward, step by measured step, to gain ground from an opposing force.

The evidence we have implies hoplite battles were determined by individual, hand-to-hand combats between hoplites armed with spears and subsequently swords. Once enough hoplites on one side had successfully resolved these individual contests, then they were able to coalesce and advance to “break the enemy’s ranks” before “pushing” them back until the enemy was overwhelmed and routed. Bon appétit!

References:

Hanson, V.D., (1989), “The Western Way of War”, University of California Press.

Godley, A.D. (ed.), “Herodotus: The Histories”, Perseus Digital Library, available online (accessed 9 January 2026).

Krentz, P., (1985), “The Nature of Hoplite Battle”, Classical Antiquity, Vol. 4, No. 1, University of California Press, pp. 50-61.

Matthew, C.A., (2009), “When Push Comes to Shove: What Was the ‘Othismos’ of Hoplite Combat?”, Historia: Zeitschrift Für Alte Geschichte, vol. 58, no. 4, pp. 395–415. available online (accessed 25 June 2025).

van Wees, H., (2000), “Greek warfare : myths and realities”, London: Duckworth.

Waterson, P., (2013), “Othismos - When Push Comes to Shove”, SoA Forums, available online (accessed 11 September 2025).

Endnotes:

1. A peltast (Ancient Greek: πελταστής, peltastēs) was a type of light infantry originating in Thrace and Paeonia and named after the crescent-shaped wicker shield they carried called a “pelte” (Ancient Greek πέλτη, peltē; Latin: pelta). Peltasts often served as skirmishers in Hellenistic armies.

2. This was the author’s first experience of a battle re-enactment where the pike blocks engaged in rugby-like scrummaging. In more recent times, regiments in the English Civil War Society (ECWS) now portray pikemen fencing with their pikes in more historically accurate manner.

3. Philip II of Macedon, equipped his Macedonian “phalangites” with a long spear or pike (Koine Greek: σάρισσα sarissa, pl. sarissae) about 5 m to 7 m (16 to 23 ft) in length. These longer spears improved the strength of the phalanx by extending the rows of overlapping weapons projecting towards the enemy which, in turn, kept the latter at a greater distance. After the conquests of Alexander the Great, sarissae became the mainstay during the Hellenistic era (4th– to 1st-centuries BC) by the armies of the successor states of Alexander's empire, as well as some of their rivals.

Kitchenalia: “Roman portable grills”

In “Kitchenalia” we introduce objects from different historical periods, discover a bit about their history and find out how each was made. We look at how, through Tastes Of History's practical experiments, we have learnt to best use them.

A while ago the author thought they heard someone, possibly in a documentary or something similar, state that ancient Roman spectators at sporting venues, such as the chariot races in the Circus Maximus, used portable grills to cook or heat snacks. The problem now, of course, is that the precise source of this claim cannot be recalled thus raising doubt, in our minds at least, that it was ever made. Regardless, Tastes Of History has several versions of portable cookers and grills from different historical periods such as the Roman craticula or testum, utensils we have previously covered and which one can discover more about by following the links. For the present purpose, however, the focus of this article is on internet search results for Roman portable grills that keep returning the example shown below.

This particular reproduction is sold by Armory Replicas in the USA, although other online vendors are available. The description accompanying the Armory Replicas product reads as follows:

“This ingenious portable grill is a replica of the type of gridiron grate popular among Roman soldiers and during the later Middle Ages. Much more efficient than digging in-ground fire pits, this type of portable grill made it easier to set up and break camp, a testament to the ingenuity that allowed the Romans to rule much of their known world. 100% hand riveted and crafted from high quality metal, the grill is contained within what appears to be a simple metal box; slotted cutouts and a removable interior tray combine to form a bottom platform to hold hot embers and small flames, this serves to essentially create a small, contained campfire. Inset approximately half an inch below the top of the box, the grilling platform is hinged to allow for easy access to the fire below while four raised corner flaps combine to create a secondary cooking platform approximately 1 inch above the top of the box. Sturdy legs at each corner serve to raise the box approximately 3 inches off the ground which helps to prevent scorching the ground while the hinged handle facilitates easy carriage of the surprisingly light (just 11 lbs) unit, making it extremely portable and a perfect camping tool.”

Looking at the product, and based on our experience, there is no doubt that this would make an ideal camping cooker, but so far Tastes Of History’s research can find no verifiable evidence that this portable grill ever existed in antiquity. To complicate matters, neither Armory Replicas nor any other vendor of this item provides a source for their “Roman cooking stove”. We are, therefore, left with a series of questions:

• What is it a reproduction of precisely? Moreover, is it a “fire pit”, a “grill” or a “stove”?

• Where is the original object from which this product is copied? Does it form part of a museum collection and if so, which museum?

• Did the makers have access to the original to create an accurate and faithful reproduction?

• If an example survives, from what historical context was it recovered? The “Roman” period and the “later Middle Ages” are significantly different times being separated by nearly a thousand years.

While iterating that this would make a fantastic camping cooker, without better evidence one can only conclude this is a modern product being marketed as a historical object for a re-enactment and living history audience. So, with little hope of answering the above questions, what evidence from the archaeological record do we have for portable cookers?

Within museum collections can be found numerous examples of surviving braziers, pot boilers or cookers. Nearly all are ceramic chimneys of differing heights as represented by the five examples pictured right. Note that each has a rectangular opening within which a fire can be lit. The smoke will vent upward through the chimney while the fire’s heat will warm any cookpot or vessel perched on top (as shown).

A very similar barrel-shaped version was discovered during excavations in Pompeii (left). Given the town was buried by volcanic pumice and the pyroclastic flow from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD 79, then this terracotta stove probably also dates to 1st-century AD. It is currently housed in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale’s collection in Naples, Italy. The barrel body is supported on three terracotta legs presumably to raise the firebox, indicated by the square opening, to prevent the ground or a floor being scorched. The body is pierced either to improve airflow to draw heat upward or to vent smoke. The three horizontal impressed bands may be purely decorative, but they might act to strengthen the body. Two semi-circular lugs are visible on the rim, but presumably a third one is or was present but out of sight in the photograph. It is possibly that these lugs were to support a cooking vessel (cf. the shaped rim on the second from the left of the five stoves pictured above).

An earlier form of ancient Greek terracotta portable cooker or oven is pictured left. Recovered from the prehistoric city of Akrotiri on the island of Thera (modern Santorini), it is dated to the Late Cycladic period (ca. 1600 – 1100 BC). The tripod legs may have allowed this object to be set above a fire such that the rectilinear opening could be where bread was baked. If this is correct, then it is tempting to hypothesize that the two pierced lugs may have been to facilitate sealing the aperture to retain the heat during baking. Alternatively, the opening might have been the firebox itself with cooking or heating occurring on the flat top surface.

The ceramic tray pictured right is somewhat different to the object already mentioned. That shown is a replica of a form of cookware found at excavation sites from the Mycenaean period (1700 to 1050 BC) so it is roughly contemporary with the Akrotiri example above. For a long time, however. archaeologists could not figure out how ancient Greeks used these trays. Were they meant to be placed over a fire to catch drippings, or were they more like a portable barbeque pits to hold coals. The debate was resolved about a decade ago when Julie Hruby, an assistant professor of classics at Dartmouth College, decided to investigate by attempting to cook Mycenaean style. Hruby, along with ceramicist Connie Podleski, re-created a tray and experimented. With it placed on top of hot coals, the skewered meat (Greek souvlaki) did not get hot enough. By putting the coals directly in the pan, however, the meat cooked perfectly.

One of the examples showcased might have been the portable grills alluded to above upon which Roman spectators cooked or heated food while watching chariot racing. We cannot say “yes” with any certainty, however, but the Roman were masters of copying Greek ideas. So, could the “souvlaki tray” or something similar have been an option. It remains possible although there are further questions on whether there would have been space available inside a circus or amphitheatre for people to cook. Likewise, in a packed venue, just how practical would cooking be? Smoke obscuring other people’s view of the games would probably not have been welcomed, and how might these enterprising cooks safely dispose of the hot coals? Although Tastes Of History is not aware of any specific ordinance mentioning it, the fire risk to these public venues would probably have seen such practices forbidden. Moreover, it seems fair to think that food vendors at public spectacles would have been unhappy with the competition. They might even have pressed local magistrates to have a ban imposed. Just a thought. Bon appétit!

A Brief History of Food: Faking it

Today “mock meat” is widely accepted and eaten as a healthier alternative to animal meat. Such substitutes use innovative formulations of plant-derived ingredients to mimic the taste, texture, and appearance of meat. While the resulting recipes may vary considerably, the core ingredients typically include protein sources like soy, peas, or mushrooms, alongside binders, fats, flavourings, and colourings, to produce sustainable alternatives to traditional meat products. Likewise, many people use alternatives when allergic to common, mainstream foods such as dairy products or nuts to name but two. Many products made out of soy, almond or coconut substitute for milk. Vegans also substitute foods, such as vegan bacon or vegan cheese, which are made from ingredients that simulate but do not contain meat or dairy products.

Clearly the science and technology to create mock meat is relatively new phenomenon but imitating foods is not without historical precedence. Both Roman and Mediæval chefs saw great skill in presenting diners with what looked like one thing but was in fact something completely different. Disguising a dish’s true nature or creating fantastical beasts was both a way of entertaining guests at a feast and also a display of the host’s wealth and prestige. One Roman example is included in volume two of Petronius Arbiter’s Satyricon which focuses on a dinner at the estate of Trimalchio, a freedman of enormous wealth who entertains his guests with ostentatious and grotesque extravagance. A succession of courses are presented, some of them disguised as other kinds of food or arranged to resemble certain zodiac signs. One notable instance involves a pig that Trimalchio pretends to berate his cook for not gutting it before roasting:

“[Trimalchio] said, “Since your memory's so short, you can gut him right here before our eyes!” The cook put on his tunic, snatched up a carving knife, with a trembling hand, and slashed the hog’s belly in several places. Sausages and meat puddings, widening the apertures, by their own weight, immediately tumbled out.” (Petronius Arbiter, Satyricon, XLIX)

Several years ago Tastes Of History recreated Trimalchio’s hog roast. To the surprise of the diners, and their subsequent delight, when the hog was cut open, sausages mimicking its intestines tumbled out. Even two thousand years later such culinary tricks still capture the imagination. Some fakery, however, is by necessity. Food shortages, wartime rationing or even straightforward poverty can lead cooks to be evermore inventive to feed a family.

Mediæval Mockery

Despite their much-loved status, hedgehogs have been eaten in Britain for centuries. Evidence from a Neolithic context in Wales has revealed hedgehogs were wrapped in grass or leaves and roasted. The ancient Egyptians ate hedgehog as well covering the body in clay and baking it in a fire. Once cooked, breaking off the clay usefully removed the spines. By the Mediæval period, hedgehogs were still being eaten in Europe. In one 14th-century recipe the animal was gutted, trussed and dried with a towel before being roasted. It was served with a sweet cameline sauce made from wine, vinegar and spices, and thickened with bread. Alternatively, hedgehogs might be baked in pastry and served with a sauce that usually accompanied wild duck.

Mock Hedgehog Pudding is made from “marchpane”, an early form of marzipan. Mediæval chefs would create these fake hedgehogs to entertain guests at feasts. The body was fashioned from either from almond paste or by filling an animal stomach with meat and spices (think haggis). The pudding was adorned with almond flakes to mimic the hedgehog’s spines. The following recipe is taken from an 18th-century cookbook:

The Golden Age

From the end of the 15th-century English sailors started on a series of daring and dangerous expeditions. There are several reasons why these Tudor adventurers decided to explore the world, but the most obvious was to become rich by finding new places to trade and to bring back expensive goods like spices, silk and precious metals. Exploring the oceans led to better ship building, better navigation, more accurate maps, and a better knowledge of the world. New words were introduced to English from faraway lands and English as a language was exported to the new world when the Tudors began to colonise other countries. By the 18th-century Britain had become a major trading nation setting in motion the eventual establishment of an Empire covering a quarter of the world. New discoveries were made and traded. Tobacco, for example, potatoes and maize were all brought back from the Americas to Britain making rich men of those involved in the trade. On a darker note, the colonies in America soon needed a much larger workforce to supply the demand for, say, tobacco. The result was the African-American slave trade.

When sailors finally encountered Green Sea Turtles they saw an opportunity to catch them and keep them alive on board ship as a source of delicious, fresh meat. Initially, few turtles survived the sea voyage to England. Eventually, circa 1728, “sea-tortoise” became popular in England as:

“Its Flesh is between that of Veal, and that of a Lobster, and is extremely pleasant...They are frequently brought to England in Tubs of Sea Water, and will keep alive a long time.”

The earliest English recipes are for roast or boiled turtle, only later would they be used in a soup. After sailors arriving from the West Indies landed a couple of turtles on British soil, the demand for them between 1740 and 1750 was a catalyst for increased importation from Ascension Island or the West Indies. Samuel Birch is credited with being the first to serve turtle soup in London, spicing it with lemons and cayenne pepper. In the 1750s turtle soup became immensely popular and without it no dinner party was thought complete. Indeed, from 1761 to 1825, it was never absent from the London Lord Mayor's Day Banquet. At its peak the trade in live turtles saw 15,000 being shipped from the West Indies per year. They were expensive to transport, however, and because such numbers were being caught, the trade was not sustainable. Green turtles were almost hunted to extinction, which simply drove prices up even further. By about 1800, a good dinner portion was reputedly 2.5 kg (6 lb) of turtle (live weight) while, in August 1808, 1,100 kg (2,500 lb) of turtle was needed to make the dinner soup consumed by 400 diners in one London Tavern. Isabella Beeton noted in 1861 turtle soup was “…the most expensive soup brought to the table”.

“Take your tortoises and cut off their heads and feet and boyl them in fair water, and when they are almost boyl'd, put to them some white wine, some sweet herbs, and a piece of bacon, and give them a brown in the frying pan with good butter, then lay upon your bread a-steeping in good strong broth, and well-seasoned; garnish the dish with green sparrow-grass [asparagus] and lemon over it.”

Giles Rose, 1682 [1]

Mock Turtle Soup  By the late 19th-century, overhunting had caused the green turtle population to plummet to near extinction levels. Consequently, the price of the soup rose dramatically driving the creation of a more economical substitute. Mock turtle soup became popular in its own right such that the two dishes were sometimes served at the same banquet.

Mock versions often use brains and offal to duplicate the texture and flavour of the original turtle meat. Indeed, a calf's head soup, which had been known in England before the importation of turtles began, was widely adopted as another economical and popular substitute (Ching, 2016, 79-89). In the United States, mock turtle soup eventually became more popular than the original dish and remains so in Cincinnati. The soup is also a traditional dish in the Lower Saxony areas of Germany where it is considered a specialty of “English cuisine”. By the late 19th-century commercial brands of canned mock turtle soup were available and advertising, ironically, warned consumers to "Beware of Imitations" (Ching, 2016, 79-89).

Tastes Of History’s version was adapted for history events themed around the Golden Age of Piracy:

Out of Necessity

Between the First and Second World Wars many households were struck by The Great Depression, a severe worldwide economic downturn that began in 1929 and lasted until about 1939. Triggered by a combination of interrelated economic factors, the period was marked by significant declines in output, severe unemployment, and profound changes in economic policy.

The most significant event that marked the beginning of the Great Depression was the stock market crash on 24th October 1929, known as Black Thursday. This crash led to a loss of confidence in the economy and a sharp decline in consumer spending. As the economy slowed, consumer demand fell, leading to decreased production and rising unemployment. Many businesses were forced to close or reduce their workforce. A series of bank failures in the early 1930s further exacerbated the economic crisis, as people lost their savings and credit became scarce. Globally, the gold standard linked many countries’ economies, transmitting the American downturn to other nations, thus leading to a worldwide economic crisis.

Mock Apple Pie is one of the most famous examples of Depression-era ingenuity when Americans turned to creative solutions to stretch their food supplies. While versions of this dish existed before the 1930s, it became more widely known after 1934 the year Ritz Crackers were introduced in the United States by Nabisco, an American manufacturer of cookies and snacks. Instead of apples, Mock Apple Pie relies on crushed Ritz Crackers which, when soaked in a syrup made from sugar, water, lemon juice, and spices, take on a texture resembling cooked apples. The illusion is further enhanced by the addition of cinnamon whose flavour tricks the taste buds into thinking apples are present. When baked in a traditional double-crust pastry, further reinforcing its resemblance to classic apple pie, the filling softens, thickens, and binds together just like real fruit. The result looks, smells, and tastes like a traditional apple pie albeit without a single apple present. Rather helpfully Nabisco printed the recipe on the back of its Ritz boxes thereby ensuring Mock Apple Pie gained national recognition. During tough economic times of The Depression, the recipe allowed families to enjoy a familiar taste without incurring the cost of fresh apples. It soon became a staple in any resourceful household forced to rely on affordable, shelf-stable ingredients.

Cooking on Wartime Rations

Before the outbreak of World War Two Britain imported 70% of the food needed to feed the nation equating to around 20 million tons per year. When hostilities commenced attacks on merchant shipping by the Nazi’s surface fleet, U-Boats and its air force saw imports reduced to about 1/3rd leaving many foods impossible to obtain. In 1940 the Minister for Food banned the importation of bananas, popular with many Britons, because they were transported in refrigerated ships needed for other wartime purposes. Ever resourceful British cooks thus devised recipes for “mock bananas” made from parsnips flavoured with sugar and banana essence as substitutes for the fruit. Other fake dishes soon followed.

To counteract the reduction of meat and other rationed goods such as milk, eggs, sugar, cheese, the British government sought to provide families with alternative food options and “mock” ingredients and recipes were created to fill the void. These “mock foods” were intended to simulate a dish or an ingredient where the latter was difficult or impossible to purchase in shops because of the rationing system. Mock recipes existed for foods such as mayonnaise, marzipan, cream, sausage, and duck. Many mock recipes were written in wartime by Britain’s Ministry of Food to promote the use of substitutes in place of the actual foods. Yet simply naming a recipe “mock duck” was not a guarantee it looked or tasted like the real thing. Indeed, often the recipes had no resemblance, and often little similarity in taste to the actual food or dish that it sought to imitate. But it was wartime, so “Keep Calm and Carry On”.

Mock Duck

This recipe for Mock Duck was discovered on The 1940’s Experiment website, but it can also be found on page 74 of “We’ll Eat Again”, a collection of period recipes selected by cookery writer and wartime broadcaster Marguerite Patton in association with The Imperial War Museum. Aside from shaping the mixture to look somewhat like a duck, this is a relatively simple dish but one that would be enhanced with addition of perhaps new potatoes and seasonal vegetables.

A vegetarian alternative replaces the sausage meat with red lentils:

Yet another version, Mock Goose, may be found on page 75 of “We’ll Eat Again”. This recipe is also suitable for vegetarians as potatoes are the main ingredient. The Ministry of Food promoted the humble potato as a valuable yet cheap source of energy, and one that would protect the nation from ill-health. The use of potatoes was championed in soups, salads, savoury supper dishes, potato pastry (the recipe for which may be found here), and even in biscuits. Indeed, the “Dig for Victory” campaign during World War II that encouraged Britons to grow their own food and make the most of rationed ingredients also introduced them to Potato Pete. He became well-known through the “Potato Pete Recipe Book”, published by the Ministry of Food, that included various recipes and advice on using potatoes effectively during rationing. This popular character helped promote the importance of potatoes as a staple food during the war, contributing to the national effort to combat food shortages.

Despite Britain being at war, desserts, puddings and cakes remained an important staple in everyday life. The rationing of key ingredients such as fats and sugar did not stop resourceful cooks from producing treats for the family. One such wartime dessert recipe for Mock Suet Pudding with either jam or syrup may be found in the Ministry of Food leaflet “Making the Most of the Fat Ration” (O’Mara, 2007, 150). A second version from the same leaflet omits the jam or syrup but adds 50 g (2 oz) each of sugar and dried fruits with the flour. Of note, both of these recipes made use of dried egg powder available on rations books. The powder was pure egg with all the moisture removed. This allowed one tin of egg powder to substitute for a dozen fresh eggs. Some recipes used the powder dry from the tin, but to reconstitute dried egg one had to blend a level tablespoon of powder with two tablespoons of water. This produced the equivalent of one fresh egg. Unfortunately, if people were too generous with the amount of egg powder, then the result was prone to a rather unpleasant taste giving dried egg powder its enduring, unfortunate reputation.

And finally  Even when the actual ingredients have changed there is a certain level of comfort and continuity to be derived from retaining the names of popular dishes, albeit with the term “mock” added. It is similar to modern-day practices of creating vegan bacon, which is supposed to simulate the look and taste of real bacon although one might argue it rarely does. That said, as plant-based “mock meat” recipes have evolved, many newer products now have the look, and in most cases, a similar taste to the meat they replace. People consume these fake foods for myriad reasons, including health or for vegan/vegetarian lifestyle choices. Yet, this means a vegan or vegetarian “sausage” is a misnomer and dishonest. A sausage by its very definition is an “article of food consisting of chopped or minced meat, seasoned and stuffed into the cleaned gut of an ox, sheep, or pig, and tied at regular intervals” (Etymonline, sausage). Sausages, therefore, are very definitively not for vegans or vegetarians. But people desire familiarity, so consuming foods with the same name, albeit with different ingredients and different tastes, allows us to not alter our eating habits and to continue enjoying the things we have always eaten. Bon appétit!

References:

Barnett, E. (2024), “Hedgehog Pudding”, BBC History Magazine November 2024, p.86.

British Food History (2016), “Mock Turtle Soup”, available online (accessed 13th July 2023).

Ching, M. (2016), “The Flow of Turtle Soup from the Caribbean via Europe to Canton, and Its Modern American Fate”, Gastronomica 16 (1), pp. 79–89.

Eberhardt, D. (2025), “1930’s Mock Apple Pie: A No-Apple Recipe That Tastes Real”, Nature of Home, available online (accessed 28th November 2025).

Michael O’Mara Books, (2007), “Eating for Victory: healthy home front cooking on war rations”, London: Michael O’Mara Books Ltd.

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Endnotes:

1. An elusive character in history, Giles Rose is thought to have been one of the master cooks to King Charles II. In 1682 he published a translation from French of a work written some twenty years earlier examining the roles of the senior staff responsible for feeding a large household.