On This Day: The Globe on fire

June 29th, 1613: The Globe Theatre burns to the ground.

The first recorded performance of William Shakespeare’s ‘All is True’ took place at The Globe Theatre on the banks of the River Thames in June of 1613. The play, now more commonly called ‘Henry VIII’, is not one of Shakespeare’s best known and may have disappeared into obscurity if it had not been for the disaster that befell the theatre.

The production, which focuses on Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon, was clearly intended to go off with a bang. At a climatic moment in the performance a cannon was fired towards the theatre’s famous open roof. Sparks set the thick thatch roof smouldering and, before long, smoke was creeping through the rafters. According to an eyewitness, for some time no one in the audience seemed to notice: ‘their eyes more attentive to the show’. Before too long the fire became difficult to ignore yet, remarkably, no one was hurt in the blaze. One man’s breeches reportedly caught fire, but his skin was literally saved when someone soaked him in beer.

The Globe was not so lucky. The blaze ripped through the building and the theatre built by Shakespeare’s playing company in 1599 that had staged some of his most famous plays was burned to cinders.

Reference:

Carr, H., (2022), ‘Anniversaries’, BBC History Magazine June 2022, p. 12.

About History: The humble Pigeon goes to War

First broadcast on BBC1 on October 5th, 1989, ‘Corporal Punishment’ is the second episode of ‘Blackadder Goes Forth’, which is the fourth series of the BBC sitcom ‘Blackadder’. In the episode, the eponymous ‘hero’ Captain Edmund Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson) faces a court-martial and is sentenced to execution by firing squad for shooting and eating a carrier pigeon. Not just any old carrier pigeon, but none other than ‘Speckled Jim’ the finest carrier pigeon in the British Army and General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett's (Stephen Fry) ‘delicious, plump-breasted’ pet. Needless to say, a rollicking satirical farce ensues which rather overlooks the pivotal role of pigeons in war.

Homing pigeons have an uncanny ability to return home and so were used to take messages back to their loft or coop. The arrival of the railway system enabled these birds to be easily transported, which made long-distance pigeon racing hugely popular and led to the realisation that they could fulfil a military role. During the 19th century’s Franco-Prussian War (1870–71), besieged Parisians used carrier pigeons to transmit messages outside the city; in response, the besieging Prussian Army employed hawks to hunt them. The French military used balloons to transport homing pigeons past enemy lines. Microfilm images containing hundreds of messages allowed letters to be carried into Paris by pigeon from as far away as London. More than one million different messages travelled this way during the four-month siege. At the end of the 19th-century the British Admiralty introduced a pigeon service, but scrapped it in 1908. When the Great War began in 1914, Alfred Osman, founder of ‘The Racing Pigeon’ magazine, provided pigeons for fishing trawlers that were minesweeping the North Sea, as well as for ships and seaplanes of the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS).

As the Great War progressed, pigeons continued to be released in emergencies to fly home with messages to pigeon lofts on the East coast. One illustrative example occurred in September 1917. After trying to intercept two Zeppelins, a DH 4 aircraft had to turn back to Great Yarmouth only to ditch in the North Sea. An H.12 Large America flying boat landed on the water and rescued the crew but then could not take off as the sea was too rough. Pigeon N.U.R.P/17/F.16331, one of four carrier pigeons released by the crew as they anxiously waited to be rescued, flew 50 miles back to the Norfolk coast carrying a message relaying the crew’s position. Sadly, he died of exhaustion in the attempt, but to commemorate his self-sacrifice, this plucky pigeon was preserved in a glass case at the flying boat station at Great Yarmouth. He now resides in the collection of the Royal Air Force Museum, Hendon in the same case that still sports a brass plague inscribed ‘A very gallant gentleman’ (above right).

Throughout World War I, and again in World War II, carrier pigeons flew messages back to their home coop behind the lines. When they landed, wires in the coop would sound a bell or buzzer alerting a soldier of the Signal Corps that a message had arrived. The soldier would go to the coop, remove the message from the canister attached to the bird’s leg, and then forward the message by telegraph, field phone, or messenger.

Aware that pigeons were carrying important messages, soldiers often tried to shoot them down making the bird’s role fraught with danger. One homing pigeons, a Blue Check cock named ‘Cher Ami’ (right), was awarded the French Croix de Guerre with Palm for delivering 12 important messages during the Battle of Verdun. On his final mission on October 4th, 1918, he was struck by either a bullet or shell fragment, which severed the right leg and cut across the breast, leaving the message capsule hanging off the tendons of the severed leg. Despite these injuries, the message providing Americans with the exact location of the surrounded men to aid in their relief was safely delivered. The US 77th Division’s ‘Lost Battalion’ was ultimately rescued on the evening of October 7th having incurred almost 70% causalities. By contrast, another less well remembered pigeon named ‘Spike’ flew 52 missions without receiving a single wound.

During World War II, the United Kingdom used about 250,000 homing pigeons for many purposes, including communicating with those behind enemy lines. Their value is perhaps best expressed by the 32 pigeons decorated with PDSA’s Dickin Medal [1], the highest possible decoration for valour given to animals.

The UK maintained the Air Ministry Pigeon Section during World War II and for a while thereafter until 1948 when pigeons were declared of no further use by the UK armed forces, Yet pigeons continued to have a role for a few year into the Cold War. Up until 1950, the UK maintained 100 carrier pigeons in preparation for any eventuality.

Reference:

Adkins, R. & Adkins, L. (2022), ‘Flying to Victory’, BBC History Magazine May 2022, p.39.

Endnotes:

1. The PDSA Dickin Medal (right) was instituted in 1943 in the UK by Maria Dickin to honour the work of animals in World War II. It comprises a bronze medallion, bearing the words ‘For Gallantry’ and ‘We Also Serve’ within a laurel wreath, carried on a ribbon of striped green, dark brown, and pale blue. It is awarded to animals that have displayed ‘conspicuous gallantry or devotion to duty while serving or associated with any branch of the Armed Forces or Civil Defence Units’. The award is popularly referred to as ‘the animals' Victoria Cross’.

A Brief History of Food: Peacocks

Birds have long been revered, feared and assumed to be capable of predicting weather, marriage partners, disaster and death. In ancient Roman religion the practice of augury meant interpreting omens from the observed behaviour of birds. When the individual, known as the augur, interpreted these signs, it is referred to as ‘taking the auspices’. 'Auspices' is from the Latin auspicium and auspex, literally ‘one who looks at birds’. Depending upon the birds, the auspices from the gods could be favourable or unfavourable (‘auspicious’ or ‘inauspicious’). Sometimes politically motivated augurs would fabricate unfavourable auspices to delay certain state functions, such as elections.

Peacock feathers were especially dreaded. According to Hull schoolmaster, John Nicholson, in 1890: ‘Though peacock feathers are now fashionable and aesthetic, they are looked upon with disfavour by those of the old school, for these feathers were always deemed unlucky.’ Even today it is sometimes heard that having peacock feathers or an object featuring the ‘Devil’s eye’ can bring bad luck.

Sacred to Hera  The ancient Greeks, however, believed the flesh of peafowl did not decay after death, so the birds came to symbolise immortality. In Hellenistic imagery, the goddess Hera's chariot was pulled by peacocks, birds that were not known to the Greeks before the conquests of Alexander the Great. Aristotle, Alexander's tutor, refers to ‘the Persian bird’, the beauty of which so amazed Alexander when he encountered them in India that he threatened the severest penalties for any man who killed a peacock.

Argus  One myth tells us that Hera's servant, the hundred-eyed Argus Panoptes, was tasked by the goddess to ‘Tether this cow safely to an olive-tree at Nemea’. Hera knew that the heifer was in reality Io, one of the many nymphs her husband Zeus was lustfully pursuing. Having chained Io to the sacred olive tree at the Argive Heraion, Hera needed someone who had at least a hundred eyes to watch in all directions, someone who would stay awake despite being asleep. Argus was meant to be the perfect guardian. To free Io, Zeus had Argus slain by Hermes, the messenger of the Olympian gods. Disguised as a shepherd, Hermes first put all of Argus' eyes asleep with spoken charms, then slew him by hitting him with a stone. According to the Roman poet Ovid, to commemorate her faithful watchman, Hera had the hundred eyes of Argus preserved forever, in the peacock's tail. The symbolism was adopted by early Christianity, where the 'eyes' in the peacock's tail feathers symbolise the all-seeing Christian God.

Gastronomy  In ancient Rome, peafowl were served as a delicacy. The dish was introduced there in approximately 35 BC. Peafowl eggs were also valued. Yet the poet Horace ridiculed the eating of peafowl, saying they tasted like chicken. Gaius Petronius in his play 'Satyricon' also mocked the ostentation and snobbery of eating peafowl and their eggs.

During the Medieval period, various types of fowl were consumed. The poorer members of society (such as serfs) typically ate more common birds, such as chicken, partridge, duck and goose. The more wealthy nobility or gentry were privileged to eat more elaborate birds. Dressed swan or peacock seems to have been a favourite at banquets and feasts, usually served in full plumage. Swans were especially popular at medieval royal banquets sometimes alongside an array of other ‘exotic’ birds such as the heron and blackbird. Proof of the latter is seen in the popular children’s nursery rhyme ‘Sing a song of sixpence’ (below right).

Pecoke receipt  For the most part, peacocks were used in medieval feasts for their symbolic value and beauty. As a rule, they were not served as a tasty treat given that the meat was derided in Old English sources as tough and stringy. 

‘Cut hym yn necke and skald hym cut of þe fete & hede cast hym on a spete bake hym well the sauce ys gynger.’

England, late 15th century [1].

Peacocks were not simply roasted whole. Rather, the skin of the bird was carefully removed, preserving its ostentatious feathers, and set aside. The carcass was then skewered for roasting, its neck being fixed upright during the roast to allow for a life-like presentation at service. When the dish was served, its skin and feathers were re-attached to convey the full impressive array of the living bird. The dish appears to have been as important for its display as for the flavour of its meat though the skin could also be stuffed with other foods.

Given that even Mediæval cooks thought peacocks were a poor meat, in any recreation it might be best to substitute a large duck or a goose instead:

Endnotes:

1. Modern translation: 'Cut him in (the) neck and scald him. Cut off the feet & head. Cast him on a spit. Bake him well. The sauce is ginger.'

Horrible History: Horse play

Introduction  What follows was inspired by a @HistoryFilmClub tweet shown right. Like many who responded, naming just one historical inaccuracy in a film or TV show proved far too difficult. Sadly, and contrary to the claims of directors, producers, costume designers et al., far too many historically themed media productions are beset with inaccuracies. Not wishing to be unreasonably critical, we thought there was an opportunity to highlight some of the more common errors and then counter them with whatever historical evidence exists. In this way we hope to learn something, but there are some caveats to be born in mind:

•  We know films and TV dramas are fictional, whether they claim to be ‘based on true events’ or not. Yet that does not always excuse the liberties taken with characters, timelines, locations, costume, technology, props, action sequences (especially fight scenes), and a whole lot more.

•  That said, ‘errors’ are clearly excusable if a production is rooted in the fantasy genre, is not claiming 100% historical accuracy, or is not a factual documentary.

•  However, where inaccuracies appear, especially in historical documentaries, we think it only fair to point them out because they mislead the audience.

•  And finally. we are well aware from our experience advising filmmakers and from being on set that liberties are sometimes taken due to production constraints.

Stirrups

So, with that in mind, what can we ‘learn from mistakes’ with historical depictions of horses and riding? One of the most obvious errors frequently depicted on film is the use of stirrups at a time when they simply were not used. Put simply, it appears that people had ridden horses for around 1,500 years before they devised a method for achieving greater stability in the saddle. Indeed, the Romans did not adopt stirrups until very late on since their use of the four-horned saddle provided a suitably secure platform for horse-archers and the heavily armoured, long kontos (lance) wielding cataphractoi. Yet, although this type of saddle was depicted in Roman-era images, it was not until the mid-1980s that the late Peter Connolly solved the mystery as to how this saddle was constructed and realised the first working reproduction (Connolly, 1986). Ever since, reconstructed saddles made to this ancient design have proved highly effective. Riders are held firmly in the saddle by the four horns, with the front pair securing the thighs. Practiced riders have proven they can shoot bows, wield swords, spears and lances, even leaning from the saddle to deliver effective strikes; all without the aid of stirrups [1]. If proof were needed, then just consider that the four-horned, stirrup-less, saddle was in use for at least 500 years. It was clearly doing its job.

Even so, an early form of stirrup has been traced to India in the second century BC. It consisted of a simple loop through which the rider placed his big toe. This was, however, of limited value in stabilising a rider, and of no real value whatsoever as an aid to mounting a horse. It is conjectured that the first recognisable stirrups were devised in Central Asia during the first century BC by a nomadic group known as the Sarmatians. This innovation soon spread to other Central Asian peoples, who would have quickly noted that bracing one's feet in a set of stirrups made shooting a bow from the saddle that little bit easier.

Invaders from Central Asia, such as the Huns, most likely brought the stirrup to Europe, where it seems to have been valued as much for aiding in mounting as it was for steadying a rider in the saddle. In fact, the words for stirrup in Old High German, Old Saxon, and Old English are all derived from words for climbing rope (stīgan ‘to ascend’ and rap ‘rope, cord’) perhaps giving the actual truth behind its almost universal adoption. When used with the contoured saddle, stirrups afforded a mounted warrior considerable stability and improved control in close combat (meleé).  Put simply, stirrups allowed the rider to lean farther to the left and right in the saddle allowing them to deal powerful blows with a sword, axe, mace, or lance. When using the lance in a couched position, the mounted warrior could also deliver a more forceful blow whose energy was derived and enhanced by that of the charging horse. Scenes from the Bayeaux Tapestry, dated to c. 1080, show mounted Normans and Anglo-Saxon infantry hurling spears and lances at each other, but it also depicts mounted Normans charging home with their weapons couched (see below).

The cavalry charge evolved to be a significant tactic in the Middle Ages. Although cavalry charges were possible in antiquity, a combination of a frame saddle secured in place by a breast-band, stirrups and the technique of couching the lance under the arm delivered a hitherto unachievable ability to employ the momentum of horse and rider. These developments began in the 7th century but were not combined to full effect until the 11th century (Nicolle, 2011, 24–8).

Despite the historical evidence for when they were introduced, all too frequently in films and documentaries ancient horsemen (Persians, Greeks, Romans, etc.) are seen riding with stirrups. An anachronism this maybe, but the production’s props department’s faux pas is quite understandable for a few reasons:

•  Throughout history cavalry have always been expensive to field. To recreate a Roman ‘spectacular’, for example, or even the basic Roman cavalry unit - a turma of 30 horsemen - remains similarly expensive and logistically challenging today [2]. There are simply too few Roman four-horned saddles for hire and too few riders practiced at using them.

•  The dearth of skilled riders probably alarms media producers worried about liability insurances and health and safety concerns. It is therefore far easier, and cheaper, to allow the actors, extras and other riders to use modern saddles with stirrups which, it is hoped, can be concealed.

•  Disguising modern saddles is typically achieved with saddle blankets, but the resulting silhouette in no way recreates a Roman era or any other early treed saddle. As for stirrups, their use is instantly recognisable (see below).

Side-saddle versus riding astride

Despite popular thinking for most of history women rode astride horses just like men. Yet all too often in early period dramas women are depicted riding with a modern side-saddle. That said, sitting aside can be dated to antiquity where we find the earliest depictions on ancient Greek vases of women riding with both legs on the same side of the horse. Centuries later, in Mediæval Europe, this style of riding was developed as a way for noble women in their fine dresses [3] to ride a horse while preserving their modesty. Some Mediæval depictions show women seated aside while the horse is led by a man, or seated on a small, padded seat (a pillion) behind a male rider. Ninth century depictions show a small footrest, or planchette added to the pillion. Importantly, these designs did not allow the woman to effectively control the horse; she could only be a passenger. So, while considered unbecoming in Europe for a genteel woman to straddle a horse while riding, side-saddle was developed in part to manifest the social and cultural norms of the time but also, perhaps, to reflect the power differential between the sexes.

In the 14th century Anne of Bohemia (1366 - 1394), first wife of King Richard II, is credited with making riding side-saddle popular among her ladies at the English court. The earliest functional ‘side saddle’, however, remained a chair-like affair where the woman sat sideways on the horse with her feet on a small footrest. As mentioned, the design made it difficult for the woman to both stay on the horse and use the reins to control it. Consequently, it continued to be the custom for the animal to be led by another rider sitting astride their mount.

A more practical version of the side-saddle was developed in the 16th century. Attributed to Catherine de' Medici, although this in itself could be a myth, the new design allowed the rider to sit facing forward by hooking her right leg at the knee around a small horn added to the near side of the saddle. The footrest was replaced with a ‘slipper stirrup’, a leather-covered stirrup iron into which the rider's left foot was placed. The design meant the rider, now facing forwards, was able to hold the reins and control her horse, albeit only at sedate paces initially.

Two pommel design  It was not until the 1830s that Jules Pellier invented a side-saddle fitted with a second pommel. In this design, still in use today and the version most likely to be seen on film, the upper pommel is mounted a few degrees left of the saddle’s centreline and curves upward and to the right. The rider’s right leg wraps around the upper pommel at the knee, which supports the right thigh as it lies across the top of the saddle. The lower right leg rests along the left shoulder of the horse against a second, lower mounted pommel (called the ‘leaping head’ or ‘leaping horn’). This pommel is curved gently downward over the top of the rider's left thigh. It is attached so that it can pivot slightly and adjust to the individual rider. The rider’s left foot rests in a single stirrup as shown below.

The second pommel revolutionised riding side-saddle providing increased security and additional freedom of movement. It allowed riders to retain a firm seat at the gallop and even to jump fences. Indeed, at a horse show in Sydney, Australia in 1915, Ester Stace set a world record in side-saddle show jumping of 1.98 m (6 ft 6 in). She’s pictured above right completing a substantial jump while clearly riding side-saddle. Pellier’s 19th century design opened up nearly all recreational equestrian pursuits to women while also ensuring they could conform with society’s expectations of modesty and decorum.

Ancient trails

All this talk of horses leads us to an observation about riding the trail or at least getting from A to B. In many period dramas the image shown right is intended to portray an ancient trackway or an old road. Inconveniently, however, what are visible are wheel ruts and, most significantly, a central grassy ridge resulting from the track’s use by modern wheeled vehicles. The bare earth is not the problem since this is what one might expect were the track to be repetitively used by pedestrians; the surface would be worn away somewhat uniformly. The problem is the grassy ridge. This can only be formed by something with a wheelbase that wears away the surface either side but leaves the centre line untouched. Were a cart drawn by a single horse to regularly use the track, then even the grassy area would be worn away by the action of the horse’s hooves. So, while these country trails look old they are in fact a product of modern vehicles.

Obliquely linked to the subject, is the depiction of the horse and cart. More specifically the ‘error’ centres on cartwheels made from solid planks cut to a circular shape that sometimes look like they have been bolted together. An example of a handcart with such wheels is shown right. This style of vehicle is often encountered in media productions set in Mediæval Europe, particularly in gaming. It seems the rough and ready solid wheels reflect the producer’s bias that the Middle Ages were somehow brutish, dirty and unenlightened. Yet the lightweight spoked wheel has been in use for over 4,000 years from when they first appeared on chariots in Asia Minor in ca. 2,000 BC.

A stunning example is the Egyptian version shown right. Described as a war chariot, this lightweight, gilded version was formerly part of the grave goods recovered from the tomb of Pharaoh Tutankhamun (born ca. 1340 BC, died ca. 1323 BC). The two wheels are typical of ancient Egyptian chariots with six spokes, attached to a central hub, supporting a wooden rim. None of which is to argue that solid wheels were not used, just that cartwheels have a long antecedent and were far more sophisticated than sometimes believed.

While we are discussing war chariots, let us address another trope - scythed wheels. Two exemplars are shown below, namely the widely inaccurate Victorian statue of Boudica and daughters in their war chariot adorning Westminster Bridge in London, and a scene from the iconic chariot race in the epic movie ‘Ben Hur’ (1959). The latter includes a close-up of one bladed hub fitted to the axle of the villainous Messala’s chariot wheels.

Unfortunately, there is no archaeological evidence that chariots in the Roman Iron Age had scythes or blades fitted to the wheels. That is not to say that war chariots never used scythes or blades as can be discovered here, but the Greek historian Arrian [4] explicitly distinguishes between Persian chariots that did and those of the Britons that did not. According to him the Britons ‘used two-horse chariots, with small, bad horses. Their light two-wheeled chariots are well adapted to running across all sorts of terrain and the wretched horses to enduring hardships. Of the Asians, the Persians long ago practiced the use of scythe-bearing chariots and armoured horses, beginning in the time of Cyrus’ [5] (Arrian, Ars Tactica, XIX). Arrian’s account is corroborated by the lack of archaeological evidence of scythed chariots in Britain. Our earliest eyewitness, Gaius Julius Caesar, also did not record scythed wheels when he confronted British charioteers during his brief visits in 55 BC and 54 BC. He does state, however, that the Britons’ chariots were retired from the battlefield, perhaps an indicator that their usefulness was effectively countered by Romans already experienced at dealing with chariots. Indeed, by the 4th century AD, Vegetius could dismiss the scythed chariot as a ‘laughing-stock’ being rendered ineffective if a single horse were killed or wounded (Epitome of Military Science, III.24) which, as Appian recounts, is exactly what the Romans sought to do: ‘for when a horse becomes unmanageable in a chariot all the chariot becomes useless’ (The Syrian Wars, XI.6.33). Vegetius also records (below right) the Roman tactic of scattering spiked caltrops (Latin: sing. tribulus, pl. tribuli) across the battlefield to maim or disable advancing animals (and men) and successfully negate the threat posed by war chariots.

Undoubtedly the grievous injuries caused by scythed chariots would have had a profound psychological effect on those who witnessed or survived an attack. Yet, against disciplined troops chariots were far less daunting. Requiring flat, open, and dry ground (Curtius, VIII.14.4) to manoeuvre and gain momentum, troops could quickly advance and overwhelm the chariots before they could charge in at full speed. Horses could be thrown into confusion by the noise of battle or, according to Frontinus, driven back by the shouts and javelins of the Romans (Frontinus, Strategems, II.3.17). In the same paragraph Frontinus also relates how Roman general Lucius Sulla commanded the postsignani [6] to drive a large number of stakes, set close together, firmly into the ground. As the enemy’s chariots drew near, Sulla ordered the line of antesignani [6] to withdraw within these stakes. By these tactics either the chariots were caught among the stakes or were driven back upon their own men throwing the enemy formation into confusion. Likewise, where troops maintained their discipline and close-order formation, horses and drivers often shied away. Alternatively, with practice chariots could be allowed to pass through gaps deliberately opened in the battle lines and then surrounded and attacked in the rear. Essentially, by the time the Romans became the dominate power around Mediterranean Sea, the knowledge to counter chariots, whether with scythed wheels or not, was well established.

And finally…This has either been a rant on some pet peeves with media representations of historical themes or food for thought. Regardless, thank you for reading this far. Until next time, bon appétit.

References:

Appianus Alexandrinus, The Foreign Wars Book 11: The Syrian Wars, Available online: https://www.livius.org/sources/content/appian/appian-the-syrian-wars/appian-the-syrian-wars-7/ (accessed February 20th, 2023).

British Dressage (2021), ‘The History of Dressage’, Available online (accessed January 14th, 2023).

Connolly, P., (1986), ‘A Reconstruction of a Roman Saddle’, Britannia 17.

Lucius Flavius Arrianus, Ars Tactica Liber XIX (‘Art of Tactics Book 19’).

Nicolle, D., (2011), ‘European Medieval tactics (I)’. Oxford: Osprey Publishing.

Publius (or Flavius) Vegetius Renatus, Epitoma Rei Militaris Liber III (‘Concerning Military Matters Book 3’), LacusCurtius, Available online: http://www.thelatinlibrary.com/vegetius3.html (accessed February 20th, 2023).

Sextus Julius Frontinus, Strategemata (‘Strategems’), LacusCurtius, Available online: https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Frontinus/Strategemata/2*.html (accessed February 20th, 2023).

Endnotes:

1.  Mediæval historians, and especially those who recreate Mediæval horsemanship, frequently state that the introduction of stirrups allowed a more powerful spear or lance strike to be delivered. Their assertion, however, has not been proved through rigorous, repeatable experimentation and therefore remains debatable.

2. The ‘Turma!’ event in Carlisle in July 2018 was both a public spectacle and a piece of historical research. The aim was to expand the understanding of Roman cavalry equipment and the Hippika Gymnasia, the ritual tournaments performed by the cavalry of the Roman Empire to display their expertise and practice their skills. The event was the first to recreate a fully equipped Roman turma of 30 cavalrymen and horses.

3. Long skirts were the usual fashion and riding astride in such attire was often impractical, awkward, and could be viewed as immodest. Yet women did ride horses and needed to be able to control them. Thus there was a need to develop a saddle designed to allow control of the horse and preserve the rider’s modesty.

4. Arrian of Nicomedia (Greek: Ἀρριανός Arrianos; Latin: Lucius Flavius Arrianus; c.  AD 86/89 to c.  after AD 146/160) was a Greek historian, public servant, military commander and philosopher in the Roman period.

5. Cyrus II of Persia (c. 600–530 BC), commonly known as Cyrus the Great, founded the Achaemenid Empire, the first Persian empire.

6. Postsignani: troops posted behind the standards. Antesignani: troops posted in front of the standards and serving for their defence.

Sailing the Pirate Round

This year sees Tastes Of History portraying reputable innkeepers famed for our ‘good food at the most reasonable prices’. Of course, we can keep costs low because our chief suppliers are notably 'legitimate' importers of ‘revenue-free’ goods (don't ask any questions!). They also operate a most profitable side-line in beach clearances and marine salvage should an unfortunate vessel be wrecked [1] on England's treacherous coasts…who said we’re ‘Pirates’?

Anyway, this summer saw us ‘Sailing the Pirate Round’ on behalf of English Heritage where we visited several different ports of call, including Whitby [Abbey}, Dover [Castle], the Isle of Wight [Carisbrooke Castle], Falmouth [Pendennis Castle] and Scarborough [Castle].

Most of the recipes we prepared and offered visitors the chance to sample have already been published in earlier Blog entries, namely 'A Banquet Fit for Pirates' and 'Pirates of Pendennis'. At Whitby Abbey, however, two additional sweet treats were available to try. The first was Margaretta Acworth’s 1745 recipe for a Georgian period 'Orange Cake', which can be likened to a drizzle cake albeit made with oranges rather than lemons. It is interesting to note that Mrs Acworth’s collection of recipes includes a wide range of cakes that perhaps reflected the relatively new Georgian fashion for taking afternoon tea.

The second was an alternative to Hannah Glasse’s 1747 recipe for 'Shrewsbury Biscuits' which can be found in the aforementioned ‘A Banquet Fit for Pirates’. The revised version may well have been more at home in the 16th and 17th century England of William Shakespeare.

Bon appétit.

Endnotes:

1. Wrecking is the practice of taking valuables from a shipwreck which has foundered or run aground close to shore. A tradition still exists that wreckers deliberately decoyed ships on to coasts using tricks, especially false lights, so that they run ashore for easy plundering. While this has been depicted in many stories and legends, there is no clear evidence that it has ever happened.