Roman Libum

I decided to try an ancient dish for my next attempt at historical cooking. The Roman sacrificial cake Libum proved a perfect choice as it corresponds to my A2 Classical Civilisation topic of religion! This simple cake was used as an offering, often by slaves or the lower classes, to household spirits or gods in Rome’s early history. The text below comes directly from the Roman consul Cato’s agricultural writings in which he includes simple recipes for farmers, including Libum.

‘Libum hoc modo facito. Casei P. II bene disterat in mortario. Ubi bene distriverit, farinae siligineae libram aut, si voles tenerius esse, selibram similaginis eodem indito permiscetoque cum caseo bene. Ovum unum addito et una permisceto bene. Inde panem facito, folia subdito, in foco caldo sub testu coquito leniter.’

– translation: ‘Make libum by this method. Break up two pounds of cheese well in a mortar. When they will have been well broken up, put in a pound of wheat flour or, if you wish it to be more delicate, half a pound of fine flour and mix it well together with the cheese. Add one egg and mix together well. Then make into bread, places leaves beneath, and cook slowly on a hot hearth under an earthen pot.’

(sourced from: https://www.romanobritain.org/2-arl_food/arl_roman_recipes-libum.php)

Ingredients (serves 4)

125g ricotta cheese (Italian of course!)

125g plain flour

1 egg

4 bay leaves

200g honey

Method

Preheat oven to 190 degrees celsius. Cream the ricotta in a bowl till smooth and sift in the flower, stirring together to a breadcrumb like consistency.

Beat an egg together and mix it into the ricotta and flour mixture, forming a sticky dough ball.

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Separate the mixture into four, shape into flat balls and place on top of bay leaves. Score the top for decoration if desired.

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To replicate the Roman technique of cooking in terracotta pots, cover the baking tray with a shallow pan and cook in the oven for 35-40 minutes.

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Whilst still hot, melt the honey in a pan and cover the libums so they absorb the liquid.

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Dedicate to your favourite god (I choose Venus) and enjoy, remembering to remove the bay leaf!

 

This is a very simple and quick recipe to make. Its very enjoyable to make it following the ancient recipe, but understandably it is suited to Roman lower class taste buds. It is very bland, although the texture is pleasant – resembling an unleavened scone. Adding a pinch of salt to the mixture would not be historically inaccurate, but it tastes better when served with jam – Cato wouldn’t approve I’m sure!

Rating:5/10

COMMENDED ESSAY: Did Edward Burne-Jones replicate or appropriate the Classical world and its ideals? Explore the transmission of mythology through Pre-Raphaelite art.

This essay was entered into the St Hughes Mary Renault essay competition. It was commended for its “well structured and well researched essay” that the “judges enjoyed reading”.

The Pre-Raphaelite painter Edward Burne-Jones was besotted with the classical world, as a result of his Oxford schooling, his trips to Florence, Rome and Venice, Britain’s prominent role in the nineteenth century revival of antiquity and his Grecian mistress[1]. This infatuation is best shown through the majority of his paintings having classical subjects which either draw from ancient sources, such as Ovid, or his contemporary William Morris’ retellings. In this essay I argue that Edward Burne-Jones’ treatment of classical mythology is multi-faceted, as he portrays the events of the myths accurately, replicating classical artistic ideals as he does so, but also uses them as vehicles to justify and make sense of his illicit extramarital affair. In order to do this, I shall explore three paintings by the artist, namely: ‘The Doom fulfilled’ 1888, ‘Pygmalion and the image: The Godhead fires’ 1878 and ‘Phyllis and Demophoön’ 1870.

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Figure 1: Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, ‘The Doom Fulfilled’ (1888), mixed media on paper, 1538mm x 1384mm, Southampton City Art gallery

In ‘The Doom fulfilled’ 1888, Burne-Jones both glorifies classical art, by drawing inspiration from and replicating its techniques and appropriates it by corrupting its purpose as an exemplum virtutis by linking the artwork to his prior affair. Andromeda is presented with pale translucent skin, reminiscent of the preferred medium for classical sculpture, marble. Her white skin glows in comparison to Perseus’ olive complexion, drawing on the idea of gendered colours that was evident in antiquity. Whereas pale skin was considered the epitome of female beauty, warriors were often described as having a darker skin tone, as shown by Homer’s description of Odysseus becoming melagkhroiēs (black-skinned) again. Furthermore, Andromeda stands in contrapposto, harking back to classical nude statues such as the Praxitelean type, Venus of Cnidus 350 BCE, which the artist was known to have studied carefully[2]. Moreover, the figure of Perseus is directly based off the Laocoön. Both stand contrapposto in their attempts to feign off the attacks of vicious sea serpents which have coiled between their legs, with the snake’s frozen mid bite. Both men visibly strain to fend off their mystical attackers with Perseus’ arms heroically outstretched to resemble Sansovino’s, now deemed incorrect restoration of the statue. By drawing so greatly on the Laocoön for inspiration, Burne-Jones is echoing Pliny the Elder’s musing that the sculpture “is a work of art to be preferred to any other painting or statuary[3]”. In this way, the artist shows great respect for art from the classical period, by using similar techniques and repurposing subjects to replicate both the aesthetics and the esteem of classical art. However, this painting subtly alludes to his long-term affair with the sculptress Maria Zambaco Cassavetti, described as the “emotional climax of his life”[4], and he therefore appropriates the classical world’s use of art as an exemplum virtutis. The violent imagery of the Perseus saga acts as a manifestation of the extremely passionate affair between Burne-Jones and Cassavetti, which was epitomised by their 1869 suicide pact to overdose on Laudanum together[5]. Burne-Jones used Maria to make his last studies for the female figure, as he saw her as an ideal Grecian beauty and therefore more beautiful than the Nereids, just like Andromeda was claimed to be by her mother. However more implicitly, Burne-Jones takes on the mythical role of Perseus as he reflects on societies negative perception of his affair and his inner turmoil between loving his wife and craving his mistress, which are both embodied by the snake he is fighting. The all-encompassing effect of his affair and its negative ramifications are further reflected on by the choppy, inky waves and the desolate rocky background that encircle and trap the two subjects. Interestingly, Burne-Jones’ choice to portray the Perseus saga was most likely in part to the myth’s love triangle between Perseus, Andromeda and her previously betrothed Phineus and its similarities to the love triangle between Maria, himself, and his wife Georgiana. Although Burne-Jones was not a hero like Perseus as the sensibilities of Victorian society condemned affairs especially when overt. He therefore appropriates and corrupts the morally sound myth of a hero protecting a maiden, using it to exonerate himself by portraying himself and Maria, the perpetrators, as beautiful and idealised classical sculptures.

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Figure 2: Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, ‘Pygmalion and the Image – The Godhead Fires’ (1878), oil on canvas, 1437mm x 1168mm, Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery

In his ‘Pygmallion and the image’ series of 1878, Burne-Jones appropriates the Greek ideal of beauty, which he tried so hard to replicate, by using his ex-mistress as his model for the female figures. In the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea, which the image is based on, Pygmalion sculpts his ideal of female beauty and then begs Aphrodite for a wife as perfect as his marble woman. This tale is mirrored in Burne-Jones’ personal life, as although he thought he was already married to the perfect woman, he could not help but long for his muse Maria. This is exemplified by Maria being used as the model for both Aphrodite and Galatea as she was the living embodiment of Grecian beauty by the Pre-Raphaelites. Her “glorious red hair” is shared by the goddess Aphrodite in the painting, and her “almost phosphorescent white skin[6]” that likened her to the “white-armed Helen”[7] of the Iliad and Odyssey, is shared by both figures. Crucially however, as with all other epochs that aimed to recreate authentic classical beauty, the Pre-Raphaelites failed as they projected their modern bias onto the past. Burne-Jones once mused that, “I must confess that my interest in a woman is because she is a woman and is such a nice shape and so different to mine.”[8] This contrasts greatly to the androgynous concept of Apollonian beauty where harmony consisted in opposition, namely, between that of male and female[9]. Furthermore, the ancient Greek view of beauty was multi-faceted as it was as much to do with the qualities of the soul and personality, as well as physical appearance. Kalokagathia, literally καλός kai ἀγαθός meaning beautiful and good, encompasses the beauty of forms, the goodness of the soul and the morality of character into one expression[10]. In this way, Burne-Jones fails in his quest to replicate classical beauty in his paintings; as his model Maria cannot be deemed as kalokagathia. She was an adulterer on two counts, against her own estranged husband Demetrius Zambaco and Georgiana Burne-Jones and is therefore not virtuous. Consequently, by using Maria as his model he is appropriating the classical ideals he is trying to replicate. The artist therefore overcompensates by flooding the image with the symbolism of Aphrodite, and therefore beauty and love. The goddess stands in a pool of crystal aquamarine, which harks back to her creation of being fully formed from the sea. She is also portrayed surrounded by doves, her avian symbol, following in the classical artistic tradition which can be seen on Greek pottery and on reliefs of her temples such as that of Aphrodite Pandemos at Athens[11]. Furthermore, she is adorned with both roses and a myrtle branch, of which were sacred to the deity. However, as myrtle was classically used in wedding rituals, even Burne-Jones’ compensation subtly alludes to his 1869 plan to leave his wife in order to marry his mistress. Indeed, this image was inextricably linked to his affair as Burne-Jones even sent the first set of his ‘Pygmallion and the image’ series to Maria Zambaco’s mother[12], despite no longer being romantically involved with her. Therefore, Burne-Jones greatly appropriates the Greek world and its ideals in this image as he fails to replicate the Greek concept of Kalokagathia and recontextualises the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea in order to beautify the sordid reality of his affair.

Phyllis-and-Demophoön-1870-©-Birmingham-Museums-Trust
Figure 3:Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, ‘Phyllis and Demophoön’ (1870), mixed media on paper, 938mm x 475mm, Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery

This first edition of Burne-Jones’ painting ‘Phyllis and Demophoön’ from 1870 is wrought with references to his affair and is thus an appropriation of the eponymous myth rooted in espousal loyalty. In 1870 his affair with Maria was coming to a physical end as the guilt he felt towards his wife Georgiana and his two children triumphed over his infatuation. This regret is encapsulated by the caption he gave to this image in the Summer Exhibition catalogue of the Old Watercolour Society, “Dic mihi quid feci? Nisi non sapienter amavi”, a quote from Ovid that translates to “Tell me what I have done? I loved unwisely”[13]. This painting’s subject matter can be interpreted in multiple ways, it could be a physical embodiment of Burne-Jones’ difficult escape from his long-term affair, as Demophoön seems eager to flee from Phyllis, modelled off Maria, who has ensnared him with both her arms and her drapery. However, as mythically Phyllis is a loyal wife whose tale is recounted second only to Penelope’s (the most loyal woman in Classical culture) in Ovid’s ‘Heroides’, the female figure more likely represents Georgiana, wife of Burne-Jones. If we interpret the image accordingly, Demophoön looks back mournfully to the woman he has hurt, and his kinetic stance is due to the shock he feels in being welcomed back so readily and warmly. In the myth Phyllis kills herself from heartbreak and loneliness as a result of her husband never returning home, similarly Georgiana describes the years of her husband’s affair, 1868-71, simply as “Heart, thou and I here, sad and alone”[14]. As there were multiple similarities between the classical world, especially its myths, and Burne-Jones’ personal life, it was near impossible for him to not replicate elements of the classical world in his paintings. The female figure’s face takes on the likeness of the blooms around her as it is illuminated with a pink glow, juxtaposing the two faces in terms of light, establishing the female as the virtuous and the male as the sinful. His use of the colour pink has classical connotations of “rosy-fingered Dawn”[15] . The hope that the female deity inspired in her creation of a new day, is akin to the hope Georgiana inspires for a reunification. Moreover, the drapery is not diminishing in its connection with Demophoön but growing, as it represents the connection between man and wife. This was previously only felt by Georgiana, being gradually shared by Burne-Jones. This reinvigoration of marital unity is further emphasised by their shared mossy and shadowed skin tones, achieved by Burne-Jones through chiaroscuro, as they become one both emotionally and physically. Despite the end of his affair with Maria, Burne-Jones continued to use her likeness in his later paintings, including the two I have previously explored, as regardless of their relationship status she remained his epitome of Grecian beauty. Therefore, whilst Burne-Jones does appropriate the classical world and its ideals in this image, as he corrupts the figure of the loyal Phyllis with the head of his mistress, all images after this are mere reflections on his affair and therefore more passive in their appropriation.

In reviewing these three works by Edward Burne-Jones, I can ascertain that the artist both replicates the classical world and its ideals as he portrays the events of the myths accurately whilst using the techniques of classical art, but also appropriates the classical world and its ideals. Specifically, the moral purpose of art, mythology and the concept of beauty. Nevertheless, whilst the morality of appropriating art, and its subjects, is fiercely debated, Jean Pierrot alludes in his ‘The Decadent Imagination: 1800-1900, that the classical world provides a framework for artists to express their personal ideas and or problems, safely behind the veil of antiquity. Indeed, the beauty of Classics is in its ability to be received and utilised by a plethora of people in a multitude of ways, including Edward Burne-Jones’ use of mythology in his artwork to make sense of his illicit personal affairs.

 

[1] Liana De Girolami Cheney. “Edward Burne-Jones’ ‘Andromeda’: Transformation of Historical and Mythological Sources.” Artibus Et Historiae, vol. 25, no. 49, 2004, pp. 197–227. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/1483754.

[2] Liana De Girolami Cheney. “Edward Burne-Jones’ ‘Andromeda’: Transformation of Historical and Mythological Sources.” Artibus Et Historiae, vol. 25, no. 49, 2004, pp. 197–227. JSTOR, accessed from http://www.jstor.org/stable/1483754.

[3] Pliny the Elder, Natural History, 36.37

[4] Stephen Wildman, Edward Burne-Jones: Victorian Artist-Dreamer, MET Publications, 1998, p114

5 Jan Marsh, Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood, Interlink Pub Group Inc, 1985, p273

[6] Alexander Constantine Ionides Jr, Ion: A Grandfather’s Tal, vol.2, notes and index, p28

[7] Homer, Iliad, 3.121

Homer, Odyssey, 7.357

[8] Penelope Fitzgerald, Edward Burne-Jones, Sutton Publishing Ltd,1975, p115

[9] Umberto Eco, History of Beauty, Rizzoli, 2004, p58 & 72

[10] Ibid p45

[11] Monica S. Cyrino, Aphrodite, Gods and Heroes of the Ancient World, Routledge, 2010, p122

[12] Ann S. Dean, Edward Burne Jones, Pitkin Guides, p19

[13] http://www.bmagic.org.uk/objects/1916P37 accessed: 15/06/2019

[14] Georgiana Burne-Jones, The Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones, Volume 2, 1904, Ch XVI

[15] Homer, Odyssey, 2.476

Is Classics relevant to Politics today?

*Originally submitted for the Gladstone Omnibus Memorial Prize 2019*

Classics has always, and continues to be, overwhelmingly and undoubtedly relevant to politics in many countries worldwide. From Karl Marx’s PhD thesis on classical philosophy, the influence of the Athenian constitution on that of America and lines of Aeschylus being used both by Bobby Kennedy in memoriam of MLK and for Nazi propaganda[1]. The classical world and its legacy has defined how we view and mock politicians, how women with political influence are viewed and has given us a mandate for what causes the decline of a prominent politician. In this essay I will argue that Classics is extremely relevant to politics today by comparing case studies of historical events (or ideas) with their modern counterparts, drawing out the similarities and the effects of the former on the latter.

 

Ancient Greece’s comedic plays offered an outlet for ideological expression in the form of satirising political figures and the playwright Aeschylus, the ‘Father of Comedy’, provides us with the most pre-eminent Old Comedy examples of such political scorn. Greek comedy acted as an expression of free speech that was normally not awarded when it critiqued those at the top of the social hierarchy[2], a restriction that does not apply to modern Western journalism. However, despite this, the tradition of popular culture being used as a medium for topical criticisms has passed down into the modern age through illustrators such as Ben Jennings. His 2016 caricature of Boris Johnson contemplating Brexit (see Figure 1) uses similar techniques of mockery to Aeschylus.

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Figure 1: Ben Jennings on Boris Johnson’s Brexit column, The Guardian Opinions, 16/08/2016

Johnson’s appearance is ridiculed through the over-emphasis of his staple blonde hairdo and the inclusion of a prominent double-chin. This appearance-based affront is akin to the hairy connotations of ‘little primate Cleigenes’[3] or ‘Poor, gummy eyed Archedemus’[4] which are found in the play ‘Frogs’. Jennings’ dialogue also suggests that Johnson is self-serving and doltish, characteristics that are also similarly ridiculed by Aristophanes in the parabasis of ‘Frogs’. Cleophon, a prominent demagogue who was executed as a result of his opposition to peace with Sparta, and his style of rhetoric and penchant for duplicity is mocked with ‘keener to win than Cleophon. In his babbling, two-tongued mouth’ [5]. However, whilst the Greek invention of satire does provide both ancient and modern audiences with an important outlet for political critique, and arguably does disseminate negative ideas about Politicians that could impact their standing, focusing on this defers from the main point of satire, to be funny. Despite Aristophanes’ habitual mocking of Cleophon, and the success of his plays in which he does so, it had no impact on Cleophon’s standing, just like Jennings’ caricature bore little impact on Johnson’s reputation as he excelled in the first 2019 Tory leadership ballot[6]. However, ancient and modern satire do differ in terms of how humour is created. Visual caricature depends on the audience being familiar with the appearance of the satirised, which the mass Greek audience wouldn’t have been. Therefore, playwrights could exercise their artistic license, for example, the call for a portrait mask to portray Cleon in ‘Knights’[7] is simply for a general comedic effect as it would have been a horrendous yet inadequate presentation of the general[8]. However, in modern society, traditional and social media means that the population can view political figures at their best and worst, meaning humour has to be more genuine and individualised. Nevertheless, Classics remains very relevant to politics today as we are still using the Athenian technique of satire as a vehicle to mock those who lead us and their policies. The vehicle of satire allows for easy and enjoyable dissemination of political criticism and in this way, the classical world has given us a corner stone of modern democratic society, free speech.

 

Furthermore, the longstanding negative view of women involved or related to politics has seemingly stemmed from the classical world’s tendency for scapegoating. Multiple women who have held political power or influence have been similarly tarred with the infamous reputation of being a serial poisoner, such as Cleopatra VII, Agrippina the Younger and Lucrezia Borgia. Following the sudden death of the largely popular, first Roman Emperor Augustus, many sought an explanation for Augustus’, what we now assume to be natural, death. The most prolific rumour was that his third wife, Livia Drusilla, was responsible, as addressed by Cassius Dio:

So Augustus fell sick and died. Livia incurred some suspicion in connection with his death, in view of the fact that he had secretly sailed over to the island to see Agrippa and seemed about to become completely reconciled with him. For she was afraid, some say, that Augustus would bring him back to make him sovereign, and so smeared with poison some figs that were still on trees from which Augustus was wont to gather the fruit with his own hands; then she ate those that had not been smeared, offering the poisoned ones to him[9].

It is improper to assume that unexpected deaths were carried out by those who superficially benefitted from them, especially as the women closest to men in power have always been used to make sense of the unexpected actions of leaders. Like politics, History, especially ancient, has been monopolised by male writers which has left us with little believable evidence of the extent female figures, such as Livia, affected politics. Arguably, many would be jealous of women’s ability to capitalise on their relationship with powerful men and the belief that Livia poisoned Augustus could have stemmed from the unpopularity of her sons from a previous marriage, Gaius and Lucius Caesar, being made Augustus’ heirs instead of the more qualified Marcus Agrippa. However, it is more probable that Augustus would want to keep the emperorship in his family rather than give it to Agrippa, and as he did not have a natural male heir, Livia’s sons acted as apt replacements. It is therefore unlikely that Livia would have had to resort to foul-play to ensure the seemingly obvious succession of her sons, making the rumour of her poisoning her husband purely a malicious lie. Despite this, modern women of politics are still subject to rumours of foul-play, such as Theresa May. James Moore, The Independent’s chief business commentator, wrote the following in 2018: “MPs from her own party have been threatened with physical violence and death, not for seeking to overturn the referendum result … simply for daring to oppose the extreme form of it she has chosen to pursue.”[10]. Such a defamation is ludicrous, but it stands to show that men believe women cannot achieve political success or acceptance of their leadership through their own merit, instead they must rely on violence or corrupt measures. In this way, May seems to have been tarred by the same brush as Livia and Cleopatra as Classics has defined the way we view powerful women, and thus the study of the subject is still greatly relevant to politics today. Perhaps the allegations spread against those such as Agrippina the Younger, may account, in some way, for the unequal representation of women in politics as even in 2019 only 32% of members of the House of Commons are women, an “all-time high”[11].

 

Ancient Rome has also given us a democratic method to dispose of Politicians that are unfavoured and a mandate for what makes a politician fail. Mary Beard describes the denunciation of a figure as a hostis publicus (public enemy) as “the ancient equivalent of a vote of no-confidence”[12]. Beard is referring in particular to Nero’s labelling as a public enemy by the senate, which is detailed by Suetonius:

A letter was brought to Phaon by one of his couriers. Nero snatching it from his hand read that he had been pronounced a public enemy by the senate, and that they were seeking him to punish in the ancient fashion; and he asked what manner of punishment that was. When he learned that the criminal was stripped, fastened by the neck in a fork and then beaten to death with rods, in mortal terror he seized two daggers which he had brought with him[13].

Theresa May, in less than three years in office, has faced a vote of no-confidence in her leadership of the Conservative Party (which she won 200 to 117)[14], had a vote of no-confidence tabled against her by the opposition only five days later (which she narrowly won 325 to 306)[15] and has announced her resignation as a result of failing to deliver Brexit. Numerous parallels can be drawn between Emperor Nero and Prime Minister May’s falls from power. Nero’s downfall arose in part because of the gradual loss of support from the Senate and the loss of support from the Praetorian guard. Therefore, akin to Nero’s loss of support from the police-like Praetorian Guard, May lost support when she announced radical cuts to the Home office Budget when speaking as Home Secretary at the Association of Chief Police Officers. The estimated 20% cut to the police budget between 2010-2017[16] led to roughly 21,000 police officers and staff being made redundant across England and Wales[17]. May also lost support from the House of Commons, which we can substitute for the Roman Senate, through the 2017 general election she called for, which lost the Conservative majority. Undoubtedly, most of the criticism against Theresa May is regarding her inability to deliver Brexit, a feat which would have been more easily achieved if she had maintained her majority. Therefore, Classics is still relevant to politics today as it provides us with invaluable lessons to learn from. By analysing the mistakes made by former rulers, modern leaders can avoid making the same pitfalls, thus helping to secure their power. Perhaps, despite its relevance, Classics isn’t utilised enough in modern politics which explains why modern leaders repeat the mistakes of the ancients.

In conclusion, Classics is relevant to politics today as it has defined the way we view, critique and reject politicians. Satire has given us a comedic outlet for political criticism, acting as a vehicle for free speech and therefore, democracy. Ancient Historians and their accounts of powerful women has contributed to our negative viewpoint towards women in politics and therefore, the longstanding disassociation between the two. Finally, the criterion for what denotes the fall from power of a politician has remained the same, supplying us with invaluable lessons to take heed of. Studying the ancient world helps us to understand our own as it engages us with the cultural language that is inextricably embedded into modern Western society. In short, to study Classics is to enter into an all-important debate about the way we think about ourselves, our society and hence, our politics.

 

[1] Mary Beard ,Confronting the Classics, Profile Books Ltd, 2013, pp. 7, 47, 218.

[2] K.J. Dover, Aristophanic Comedy, Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1972, pp. 31-41.

[3] Aristophanes, Frogs (Cambridge translations from Greek drama) line 710

[4] Ibid line 588

[5] Ibid lines 679-80

[6] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-48624579 accessed: 13/06/2019

[7] Aristophanes, Knights lines 230-233

[8] Stephen Halliwell, Aristophanic Satire, The Yearbook of English Studies, vol. 14, 1984, pp. 6–20.

[9] Cassio Dio, Roman History,56.30

[10]ttps://www.independent.co.uk/voices/theresa-may-conservatives-brexit-grenfell-windrush-a8401961.html Published 16/06/2018,Accessed 04/06/2019

[11]https://researchbriefings.parliament.uk/ResearchBriefing/Summary/SN01250 accessed: 11/06/2019

[12] Mary Beard, Confronting the Classics, Profile Books Ltd, 2013, p.158

[13] Suetonius, The Lives of the Twelve Ceasars, The life of Nero, 49.2.

[14] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-46547246  Accessed 04/06/2019

[15]https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/uk-politics-46899451/no-confidence-motion-theresa-may-survives-vote Accessed 04/06/2019

[16] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-43699623 accessed:11/06/2019

[17] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-42977661 accessed:11/06/2019

Medieval Lombard Slices

I decided to try out this recipe from the British Museum’s The Medieval Cookbook by Maggie Black, simply because it used some of the same ingredients as the cherry pottage recipe. The recipe book suggests that Lombard was a very popular dish, despite its strange ingredients and method!

Ingredients (serves 6) – note I made a half batch

12 hard-boiled egg yolks

8tbsp honey

175g fine white breadcrumbs

Pinch of ground black pepper

For the Syrup:

225ml red wine

Good pinch of ground cinnamon and ground cloves

5tbsp honey

Method

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Make breadcrumbs with a food processor and set to the side.
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Hard boil the eggs, cool them down and peel. Separate the cooked egg whites from the yolks then pass yolks through a sieve (not pictured).
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Bring the honey to a boil in a pan.
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Then proceed to simmer the honey for 2 minutes.
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Remove the honey pan from the heat. Gradually add in the sieved hard-boiled egg yolks into the honey mixture – whisking rapidly.
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Gradually add in the breadcrumbs to the honey/egg mixture to thicken it, it should be thick enough to shape.
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Shape the mixture into a brick and leave it to cool until it is completely firm.
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To create the syrup reduce the wine, honey, cinnamon and ginger mixture in a shallow pan – stirring constantly.
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It should be thick and sticky enough that you can draw a line through the mixture (as shown) without it running together again.
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Thinly slice the Lombard and drizzle with the red wine glaze just before serving.

Lombard is definitely not suited to modern tastes! It is unlike anything I have either made or tasted before … and not in a good way. Whilst it is edible, I would definitely not make it again as it does not have a very pleasant taste or texture and it takes a long time to make considering. However, the glaze is both tasty and easy, I’m sure it could be used on other things such as ice cream. To conclude, whilst unsavoury, I am glad I made this recipe as it was interesting to see how medieval and modern tastes are sometimes very very different.

Rating: 4/10

My Visit to Auschwitz with HET (part 1 – survivor testimonies and Auschwitz-1)

On the 27th March 2019, I had the great opportunity to go to Poland for the day as part of the Holocaust Educational Trust’s (HET) Lessons from Auschwitz project (LFA).  During the actual day we visited Oświęcim, the Polish town of Auschwitz and the site of the Great Synagogue that was burnt down, Auschwitz-1 and Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Before and after the visit HET held seminars to allow us to prepare for and reflect on the visit. As part of these, we had the opportunity to listen to the Holocaust survivor (Auschwitz-1 and Dachau) Zigi Shipper who’s Testimony can be found if you click on the link. Before listening to Zigi, I had also listened to the testimonies of Tomi Reichental (Bergen-Belsen survivor), Eva Schloss MBE and Mindu Hornick (Auschwitz-Birkenau survivors). As my generation will be the last to have the opportunity of hearing first-hand from Holocaust survivors, I find it imperative to do so. What astounded me about Zigi was his cheerful and cheeky personality, and his overwhelmingly positive outlook on the world. Whilst his retelling of his experiences in concentration camps was extremely harrowing ,yet crucial to listen to, it was his summarising comment that resounded most with me. He said that he would love to be able to meet Hitler (if he were still alive) not to attack or verbally abuse him but to be able to tell him all about his family – including daughters, grandchildren and great-grandchildren – in order to show him that he did not succeed and that the Jewish population is still very much alive and prospering. Throughout my trip to Poland, I endeavoured to remember Zigi’s testimony and his outlook on the tragedy of the Holocaust.

After landing in Poland, we first visited the Polish town Oświęcim that was once the site of the Great Synogogue. The accompanying Rabbi Shaw told us of how it was destroyed by the Nazis on November 29, 1939, and its remains were demolished in their attempts to wipe out all traces of the Jewish race. Before the Nazi invasion, more than half of the towns population was Jewish and Jews had lived in Oświęcim for 400 years. It was incredibly poignant to see this before the concentration camps as it bought to life how expansive the Holocaust was and how effective it sometimes was because as of 2019 there are still no Jews living in the town they once had called home for centuries.

We visited the satellite camp Auschwitz-1 first, passing under the infamous and ironic “Arbeit Macht Frei” (Work will set you free) sign. My immediate reaction was astonishment at how normal the camp looked, having been a previous cadet of the Air Training Corps the camp’s layout looked extremely similar to the various UK military bases I had visited, and it was very eerie to know that such monstrosities happened in a place so normal that had rows of orderly trees and almost constant birdsong. We were unable to see  some of the most ‘famous’ exhibits of the piles of hair or gold teeth whilst we were there, however I saw many other incredibly moving displays. The hall of shoes, glass cabinets of spectacles and the swimming-pool sized container of cooking utensils helped me to almost comprehend the magnitude of the genocide. It is much easier to contemplate that each pair of shoes had an owner who was killed compared to the cold and distant statistics we are often faced with in modern dialogue about the Holocaust. These exhibits humanised and personalised the victims, which is often hard to do, and the items such as the cooking pots emphasised the extent to the tragedy as it clearly showed that the Jewish people did not know they were coming to die, they thought they would be able to cook and eat as normal at these camps.

In another block, also aimed to personalise the victims, there was a series of rooms that had a great effect on me. In one room videos of Jews laughing, praying and working were projected onto the walls to show that no matter what religious or other differences we have, we are all humans who act, think and feel the same. However, in the next rooms there were videos from Hitler’s speeches where he condemned the German Jewish population and clips of during and after Kristallnacht. This direct contrast of the victims and perpetrators clearly showed how hate can be so easily and corruptly propagated. In another room in the same block was ‘The World of the Children’ exhibit that consisted of replicated drawings (copied onto the walls of a bare room) that incarcerated children had made during the period 1939-45. At the start of the room they consisted of normal life, family meals, walks or a mother and child hugging, however further down the room they divisively changed. The drawings were now of starving people waiting in food lines, or people being herded and shot by machine gun toting soldiers. Some even showed piles of the dead waiting to be incinerated. We often forget about the experiences of young children caught up in the Holocaust as we think that they were simply killed straight away. However this exhibit changed that, it showed the extent to which children’s lives and creativity was corrupted, and it showed the events of the Holocaust through their pragmatic, unadulterated eyes. On the ground floor of this block was the book which contained the names and details of three quarters of the victims of the holocaust. Like the shoes, this was an apt way to show and try to understand the great number of those who died as the book took up an entire room, whilst only having size 8 or 9 text covering the back and front of each page.

We were fortunate enough to have an exemplary guide for our visit, who told us of stories of hope or miraculous events that occurred alongside the devastation. One of these was in relation to Block 10, where Nazi doctors conducted their experiments on men and women. She said: a Cypriot Jewish woman fell in love with a Cypriot Jewish man, and he said to her “if we survive this Hell, I want to marry you” to which the woman agreed, after saying how unlikely that was. Unfortunately soon after this promise was made she was taken to block 10 during the time when Nazis were testing to find the most effective way to administer mass female sterilisation. The woman was operated on by a Jewish doctor and when she woke up she immediately knew what had been done and asked the doctor “How could you do this to me? You’re a monster!” to which he simply replied “Remember me”. Fortunately, both the man and woman survived the Holocaust,so the man asked the woman “Will you marry me?” just as promised. However, she refused on multiple occasions because she knew she wouldn’t be able to start a family with him. Eventually she relented; they got married and a few years later she fell pregnant, and a few years after that she fell pregnant again. It turns out that the doctor did not actually perform the operation on her, as he would spare one in every few of his patients by performing a non-invasive procedure which the Nazis eventually found out about and executed him. Poignantly, this singular doctor’s sacrifice allowed that man and women to have a family, and they were blessed with multiple children, grandchildren and great-grand-children. Thus helping to preserve the Jewish race, defeating the Nazi’s aim.

Auschwitz-1 still has a rare, complete gas chamber which I visited and walked through. There is no way one can prepare for an event such as this and I had no idea what my reaction would be. As soon as I walked through the effective “cloakroom” and entered into the actual chamber, an overwhelmingly physical nauseous feeling came over me. It was as if my body couldn’t understand or cope with standing in the very spot where hundreds and hundreds of innocent people were murdered, and this wasn’t helped by the incinerators housed in the next room. Needless to say, I walked out of their literally gagging. In well-meant awkwardness, many of my friends and family asked me if I had “enjoyed my trip”, whilst enjoyment isn’t the right word, I understood the perspective that it seems alien to visit a place we know will make us upset. However, despite how horrible it was to stand in the gas chamber, I knew it was paramount that I do so. It is important to realise that we ,as visitors, are free to leave the chambers whenever we wish, whereas the victims couldn’t. No matter how many lessons, books or films there are centred around the Holocaust, actually going to a camp is the best way to learn and experience the tragedy. Often the things that are hardest to do are actually the most important and necessary.

Medieval Cherry Pottage

As cherries are currently in season, I decided to make cherry pottage  from the British Museum’s The Medieval Cookbook by Maggie Black.

“Any young hostess, married or not, would enjoy showing off this pretty dish.”

Ingredients (serves 6) – note I made a half batch

900g cherries

350ml red wine

175g white sugar

50g unsalted butter

225g soft white bread crumbs

Pinch of salt

Method

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Remove the stems and stones from all the cherries.
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Add in the roughly torn up white bread into a blender to create breadcrumbs. Set the breadcrumbs aside for later use.
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Into the blender add all the cherries, half the wine and half the sugar.
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Blend the ingredients together until a smooth puree is formed.
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Melt the butter in a large pan or saucepan.
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Add all the puree, the restr of the wine, the rest of the sugar and the salt into the pan. Gradually add in the breadcrumbs. Simmer on a low heat for 10 minutes, stirring often until the mixture thickens to a poridge-like consistency.
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Pour the mixture into serving bowls, cover, and leave to cool down completely. Serve with a cherry (as shown), edible flowers or gilded cloves!

This was a very easy recipe to make and disregarding the pitting of the cherries, was quite quick to make. The taste of this dish really relies on the quality of the cherries, and as my Dad said “You can’t go wrong with cherries and wine!”. Whilst this pottage is a bit abnormal for the modern taste, it was still pleasant and flavourful – resembling a very fruity porridge.

Rating: 6/10

 

Medieval Golden Leeks and Onions

Having already made two sweet Medieval recipes, I decided to try a savoury side dish to accompany a Roast dinner. This recipe comes from the British Museum’s The Medieval Cookbook by Maggie Black.

Ingredients (serves 6) – note I made a half batch

1tsp dried saffron strands

2tbsp boiling water

6 medium leeks (white part only)

3 medium onions

575ml (1 pint) chicken stock (optional – I didn’t use)

1/3tsp light brown sugar

Good pinch of white pepper, cinnamon and ground cloves

Yellow food colouring (optional – I didn’t use)

Method

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Steep the saffron stands in boiling water until the liquid becomes golden.
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Thinly slice the onions and white parts of the leeks.
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Add to a pan the leeks, onions, saffron water, pepper, cinnamon, cloves and stock if using it.
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Sweat down, stirring often, for 6-8 minutes. Once cooked drain the stock (if using it) in order to serve the vegetables as a side dish or double the quantity of stock for cooking and serve as a ‘running’ pottage.
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I served my golden leeks and onions with roasted pork belly, mashed potatoes, carrots and home made gravy – not overwhelmingly historically accurate!

This recipe was very simple and extremely quick to make, moreover its versatility allowed it to be  a perfectly fine modern side dish. Whilst it was pleasant, it was perhaps a touch too sweet for modern tastes, however, it complimented the Pork well in lieu of apple sauce. I would make this dish again due to its speedy and easy nature, however it was average tasting and paled in comparison to the cream custard tart and fried fig pastries!

Rating: 5.5/10

Medieval Fried Fig Pasties

After the success of my last historical recipe trial, I decided to try another dessert recipe from the same book : the British Museum’s The Medieval Cookbook by Maggie Black.

Ingredients (serves 6) – note I made a half batch

450g dried figs, soaked, drained and minced (reserve the soaking liquid)

Powder dirt mixture made with 1/8 teaspoon each of goring ginger and cloves, and a pinch of pepper

1/4 teaspoon dried saffron strands moistened with the fig soaking liquid

1/4 teaspoon of salt

1 egg yolk, 2 egg whites

7-10 sheets of filo pastry

Oil for frying

222ml of honey (optional)

Method

First, rehydrate the figs by submerging them in boiling water and covering with cling film. Should take roughly 15-20 minutes.
Make the powder dirt mixture by combing the spices.
Roughly dice the moistened figs, reserve the soaking liquid.
Moisten the saffron strands with a bit of the fig soaking liquid.
Combine the fig pieces, powder fort mixture, salt, saffron strands (not liquid) and egg yolk in a food processor.
The mixture should look like this, it should be a paste like consistency with some textured pieces.
Cut the filo sheets into three along the short side. Then brush the piece with lightly beaten egg white before spooning in the mixture.
Place roughly a teaspoon of mixture on one end of the pastry sheet. Then like a Swiss roll, roll the mixture up and once the whole pastry strip has been used, pinch both sides to keep the mixture in.
This is what my rolls look like, repeat the same process until all the mixture has been used up. If you’re making a large portion, perhaps cover the already made pastries with a damp tea towel to prevent the pastry from drying out.
Use as much oil as you like to fry the pastries either shallowly or deeply, I recommend using a neutrally tasting oil. Fry a few pastries at a time, they should not take long.
Watch the pastries and check often how the side in the oil is cooking. Flip once golden and try to fry off all sides of the pastry. Once cooked, remove to a plate.
And Voila! This is the final result. (Note that I only made half of the recipe)

These pastries were surprising delicious and moreish! The mixture is very simple and quick to make, however the process of rolling up the pastry is very time consuming, fiddly and messy. The frying is quite volatile but quick, make sure to check the pastries frequently to prevent over cooking.

We originally tasted the pastries with some double cream, but honey is far far superior. Instead of melting the honey however, I just squeezed/spread some on top of each roll, or used it as a dip. All in all, these pastries were very tasty and I shall be making them again, they reminded me a bit of modern donuts.

Rating: 7.5/10

Medieval Cream Custard Tart

I decided this recipe, taken from The British Museum’s ‘The Medieval Cookbook’ by Maggie Black, would be a perfect introduction into the realm of cooking. This is because it is very similar to modern popular desserts we have today, especially the Portuguese pastel de nata which is a favourite of mine, so was (hopefully) sure to be a hit. In this post I will take you through the ingredients, method and reviews of this dish.

Ingredients (to serve 6)

For the pastry:

225g of plain flour

105g cold butter (recipe calls for 40g of this to be lard)

A little cold milk

For the filling:

A pinch of dried saffron strands pulverised

6 egg yolks

350ml of double cream

125ml of milk (I used semi-skimmed)

65g white sugar

pinch of salt

Method

Pre-heat the oven to 200 degrees celsius whilst you prepare the pastry. For best results, use a 5 cm deep, 20cm diameter pie dish or loose-bottomed cake tin.

Sieve the flour into a large mixing bowl and add in the (cold!) butter chopped into small cubes. Crumble together.
Once crumbled, add in a little milk at a time and knead until it forms into a dough.
Roll out the pastry on a floured surface (I used a cold wine bottle for this to maintain the low temperature) and lay it in the pie dish. Cut off the edges and crimp them if desired. Bake blind with a parchment paper and baking beans for 20 minutes.
Remove the beans and paper and lower the temperature of the oven to 160 degrees celsius and cook for a further 7-9 minutes.

Whilst the pastry is cooking, prepare the filling for the tart.

Grind up a pinch of saffron with a pestle and mortar and add in 2 tbsp of warmish water.
Separate 6 egg yolks from the white into a large mixing bowl. Whisk them together.
Add in the milk, cream, sugar, salt and saffron water to the beaten eggs.
Simply pour the cream custard mixture into the pre-cooked pastry base and cook for 45-50 minutes or until just firm in the centre.

Take the tart out of the oven and voila! Serve whilst warm.

Whilst this recipe was time consuming, it was easy to make and went down a treat. My Dad commented that it was delicious with the dominate egg taste combined with the sugar. He said you could tell it was different to a modern recipe due to the lack of cinnamon and how prominent the egg taste was. He also noted that the texture was very delicate, the pastry was nice and short and the tart had a lovely wobbliness to it.

In a three person household, this whole dish was eaten within 24 hours which is a real testament to how utterly delicious it was! I am inspired to make more historical recipes, and will definitely continue using the same recipe book.

Rating: 9/10

Carthaginian Child Sacrifice: A Detective Story lecture by Professor Josephine Quinn

On Friday the 15th of March 2019, I attended the Oxford and Cambridge Classics Open Day. I was very fortunate in hearing three enthralling and interesting lectures from three excellent female professors – this last of which was Professor Quinn’s lecture on determining the truth of child sacrifice claims in Carthage (modern day Tunisia).

Professor Quinn started off the lecture by introducing us to the prosperous city of Carthage. Founded in 814B.C. by Queen Dido, before the founding of Rome in 753B.C, it was the largest Phoenician speaking city and was ,at one time, the wealthiest city in the world. Venerable, wealthy and cultured it was a greatly successful city due to its huge ports. It was also extremely advanced in terms of its grid patterned city, republican style government and it being a centre for the arts. Upon hearing this I began to doubt the credibility of the claims, as it seemed unreasonable that such a civilised culture could conduct such heinous crimes.

Indeed, these claims were founded by the contemporary historians of Carthage’s greatest enemy, Rome, making them unreliable, especially when we consider they were written long after the sacking of the Carthage. These Historians included Diodorus Siculus from the 1st century B.C. and Ennius’ ‘Annales’ from c200B.C. and Cleitarchus’ ‘Scholia to Plato’s Republic’. Therefore these sources provide us with no real evidence to support our investigation.

 

In former times they had been accustomed to sacrifice to this god the noblest of their sonsthey selected two hundred of the noblest children and sacrificed them publicly -Diodorus Siculus’ ‘Library of History’, book 13, chapter 86

 

There stands in their midst a bronze statue of Kronos, its hands extended over a bronze brazier, the flames of which engulf the child. When the flames fall upon the body, the limbs contract and the open mouth seems almost to be laughing until the contracted body slips quietly into the brazier. Thus it is that the ‘grin’ is known as ‘sardonic laughter,’ since they die laughing -Cleitarchus’ ‘Scholia to Plato’s Republic’,I, 337A as translated by Paul G. Mosca

 

However, we do have archaeological evidence that seems to suggest the possibility that the Carthaginians sacrificed their children. There are surviving remains of multiple open air Tophet sanctuaries that contain many funeral pyres and urns which have traces of child remains. The stratigraphy of the main sanctuary shows 4 layers of activity ranging over 450 years, with each layer boasting its own urns and burials. In total, there are 20,000 burial urns which means there were at least 25-30 burials per year. However, the bone remains do not match the death profile of ancient children which was normally high mortality of children at birth as a result of still births or in the first year. Contrastingly, the remains in Carthage show a huge spike in infant mortality at 4-6 weeks post birth. Poignantly though, these remains show no direct evidence that the children died as a result of religious sacrifice. It is highly possible to presume that these Tophets could either be child only cemeteries or common places for infanticide through exposure, a common practice in the ancient world to ensure only the fittest , or only male, children survived and were thus cared for by the family. Having said that, cremation, being an expensive form of burial, and grave markers ,another unnecessary expense, are not conducent with child exposure or indeed general child burial as the ordinary citizen could not afford such a burial for all their children who died.

The sanctuary of Tophet, Carthage (modern day Tunisia)

In terms of the sites stratigraphy, the fact that the second layer has graves/urns markers is extremely interesting. These markers give us a plethora of epigraphic evidence that seek to show the dedication of children by men, women and even slaves – which suggests if child sacrifice did occur in Carthage, it was societal norm practiced by a broad range of citizens. To further this point, we see dedications from those of many professions, including priests, magistrates and butchers, as well as dedications from Greeks and Egyptians.

To Lord Baal Hammon (the Carthaginian chief deity), a gift of … because he heard his voice and blessed him- the usual dedication on the grave markers.

We can see from the above dedication that whilst sacrifice was not explicit, the dedicator’s piety was. Whilst the dedication could be to endure the protection of a child in the afterlife, the language, such as “gift”, is more reminiscent of an offering. We can also assume that if dead children were gifted to the deity, that they were killed purposelessly and did not die or natural causes, because we know from other ancient civilisations that gods like “perfect” sacrifices. In fact some inscriptions even talk of the death date as the “day of blessing” which hints at child sacrifice because normally death isn’t regarded positively.

If we assume that child sacrifice did occur in Carthage we must explore the reasoning behind it. A more practical reason would be for population control, especially in elite families in order to prevent the subdivision of property, which was common in Ancient Greece. However, this begs the question: why spend money on cremation and grave markers? A second, in my opinion weaker and less probable, reason would be as a form of ideological resistance. As other societies ,such as Rome, disapproved of such traditions for example them banning the King of Persia from sacrificing children, the Carthaginians could be trying to alienate themselves further from their counterparts as a form of defiance. The most probable and third reason would be as a form of religious piety, a reasoning shared by other child sacrificing citizens, for example the Aztecs. Indeed, there is the most evidence for this reasoning as Carthage was a wholly secular society and this religion acted as reasoning and motivation for almost all behaviour. Furthermore, the grave inscriptions clearly show a very close god/worshipper relationship. The use of cremation makes sense in this reasoning as the expense is justified and also meaningful as it represents a physical transition between the mortal world and that of the divine afterlife. Indeed, at the main Tophet only 3-4 adult human remains were found which furthers this argument as sacrifices of children were more “valuable” to gods as they are harder for parents to give up, making their show of piety stronger. In accordance with this argument, I voiced my idea to Professor Quinn that perhaps children are sacrificed to Baal Hammon because there are no records of him and his consort, Tanit, having children. So perhaps, very compassionately, the people of Carthage offered their children as replacement to their barren gods. This is an idea Professor Quinn found very unique, interesting and thought provoking. So much so, that she decided to end the lecture following my comment, because of its poignancy.

I would argue that this final lecture of the day was my favourite because it detailed a subject I originally knew nothing about and because it was most closely linked to my subject of choice History, ancient and modern. Professor Quinn was a really engaging lecturer and her acceptance and praise of my sacrifice idea gave me confidence in my ability to think analytically and differently on topics. After the lecture, I approached the professor and asked to what extent did the History (ancient and modern) course include modules that were centred on civilisations other than the typical Greece and Rome. She said it was small but increasing, but hoped that I could push for it more if I were to attend Oxford next year!