The Spread of Christianity Animated, from Antiquity Until Today, on an Animated Map

Chris­tian­i­ty has long been close­ly iden­ti­fied with West­ern civ­i­liza­tion. The asso­ci­a­tion is espe­cial­ly strong, in mod­ern times, with the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca, that source of deri­sive­ly quot­ed, quite pos­si­bly apoc­ryphal argu­ments that “if Eng­lish was good enough for Jesus Christ, it ought to be good enough for our chil­dren.” But of course, Jesus nev­er heard a word of Eng­lish, and though the spread of the reli­gion named after him did shift into high gear not long after his death — to say noth­ing of after Con­stan­ti­ne’s — it took its sweet time get­ting to the Amer­i­can con­ti­nent. In fact, it does­n’t show up there until more than five and a half min­utes into the new eight-minute video from Ollie Bye above, which ani­mates Chris­tian­i­ty’s his­tor­i­cal prop­a­ga­tion on a world map.

It’s a world map by the end, in any case: the view zooms out as the reach of Chris­tian­i­ty increas­es, start­ing with the region we now call the Mid­dle East and end­ing up with every con­ti­nent on dis­play, none of them untouched save Antarc­ti­ca (which actu­al­ly does have eight church­es of its own). Remark­able though it is that this first-cen­tu­ry “desert reli­gion” has tak­en root in such a vari­ety of envi­ron­ments, cul­tures, and soci­eties, it has­n’t come through that process com­plete­ly unchanged.

Indeed, Bye’s map includes a run­ning leg­end of its major vari­ants, from Nicene, Celtic, and Chal­cedon­ian Chris­tian­i­ty ear­ly on to Angli­can, Luther­an, Bap­tist, and many more in our time. It makes less sense to speak of the spread of Chris­tian­i­ty, per­haps, than the spread of Chris­tian­i­ties.

In the sin­gu­lar or the plur­al, what has made all this so adapt­able to such a wide vari­ety of human set­tings? Chris­tian­i­ty’s non-eth­nic uni­ver­sal­ism sure­ly has some­thing to do with it, as does the broad emo­tion­al res­o­nance of its core nar­ra­tives of sin, sal­va­tion, and rebirth. The assid­u­ous trans­la­tion of its texts and out­ward march of mis­sion­ar­ies and oth­er car­ri­ers of the gospel has been going on almost since the very begin­ning. Through­out its his­to­ry, Chris­tian­i­ty has also shown the ver­sa­til­i­ty to thrive as a clan­des­tine under­ground move­ment, a state reli­gion, and every­thing in between. All the while, it has assim­i­lat­ed qual­i­ties of the civ­i­liza­tions it enters, from Gre­co-Roman phi­los­o­phy to Celtic fes­ti­vals to Kore­an shaman­is­tic tra­di­tions. In fact, I’m writ­ing this very post from one of the many church cafés in Seoul, as con­vinc­ing an expe­ri­ence as to under­score Chris­tian­i­ty’s improb­a­ble — and con­tin­u­ing — endurance.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Map Shows How the Five Major Reli­gions Spread Across the World (3000 BC — 2000 AD)

180,000 Years of Reli­gion Chart­ed on a “His­tom­ap” in 1943

The Birth and Rapid Rise of Islam, Ani­mat­ed (622‑1453)

A Visu­al Map of the World’s Major Reli­gions (and Non-Reli­gions)

World Reli­gions Explained with Use­ful Charts: Hin­duism, Bud­dhism, Judaism, Islam, Chris­tian­i­ty & More

The His­to­ry of the World in One Video: Every Year from 200,000 BCE to Today

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Hand-Colored Photographs from 19th Century Japan: 110 Images Capture the Waning Days of Traditional Japanese Society

What we euphemisti­cal­ly refer to as the “Open­ing of Japan” cat­alyzed a peri­od of seis­mic upheaval for the proud for­mer­ly closed coun­try. Between the fall of the Toku­gawa shogu­nate in 1853 and the Mei­ji restora­tion in 1868, Japan­ese soci­ety changed rapid­ly due to the sud­den forced influx of for­eign cap­i­tal and influ­ence, much of it destruc­tive. “Unem­ploy­ment rose,” writes his­to­ri­an John W. Dow­er, “Domes­tic prices soared sky high…. Much of Japan was wracked by famine in the mid 1860s…. As if all this were not curse enough, the for­eign­ers also brought cholera with them.” They also brought pho­tog­ra­phy, and both West­ern and Japan­ese pho­tog­ra­phers doc­u­ment­ed not only the country’s pro­found trans­for­ma­tion, but also its tra­di­tion­al dress and cul­ture.

Closed for 200 years, Japan became a source of end­less fas­ci­na­tion for West­ern­ers as arti­facts made their way across the sea. Among them was “an exten­sive pho­to­graph­ic doc­u­men­ta­tion of Japan,” notes the New York Pub­lic Library, and “of inter­ac­tion between the Japan­ese and for­eign­ers” (Com­modore Perry’s expe­di­tion to Tokyo Bay includ­ed a daguerreo­type pho­tog­ra­ph­er.)

“In the broad­est sense, pho­tog­ra­phy entered Asia from Europe and Amer­i­ca as part of the process of colo­nial­ism, but soon took root in those regions with local pho­tog­ra­phers.”

The col­orized images you see here come from the NYPL’s large col­lec­tion of late 19th cen­tu­ry Japan­ese pho­tog­ra­phy, tak­en by pho­tog­ra­phers like the Ital­ian-British Felice Beato and his Japan­ese stu­dent Kim­bei, who “assist­ed Beato in the hand-col­or­ing of pho­tographs until 1863,” then “set up his own large and flour­ish­ing stu­dio in Yoko­hama in 1881.” The archive pro­vides “a rich resource for the under­stand­ing of the polit­i­cal, social, eco­nom­ic, and artis­tic his­to­ry of Asia from the 1870s to the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry.” These images date from between 1890 and 1909, by which time much of Japan had already been exten­sive­ly west­ern­ized in dress, archi­tec­ture, and style of gov­ern­ment.

To many Japan­ese, the old ways, sus­tained through a cou­ple hun­dred years of iso­la­tion, must have seemed in dan­ger of slip­ping away. To many West­ern­ers, how­ev­er, the encounter with Japan offered a kind of cul­tur­al renew­al. As the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art points out, “a tidal wave of for­eign imports” from Asia, includ­ing “wood­cut prints by mas­ters of the ukiyo‑e school… trans­formed Impres­sion­ist and Post-Impres­sion­ist art.” Euro­pean col­lec­tors, traders, and artists dis­cov­ered a mania for all things Japan­ese, even as some of its cul­tur­al forms threat­ened to dis­ap­pear. Enter the NYPL’s dig­i­tal col­lec­tion, Pho­tographs of Japan, here.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold the Mas­ter­piece by Japan’s Last Great Wood­block Artist: View Online Tsukio­ka Yoshitoshi’s One Hun­dred Aspects of the Moon (1885)

What Hap­pens When a Japan­ese Wood­block Artist Depicts Life in Lon­don in 1866, Despite Nev­er Hav­ing Set Foot There

Japan­ese Kabu­ki Actors Cap­tured in 18th-Cen­tu­ry Wood­block Prints by the Mys­te­ri­ous & Mas­ter­ful Artist Sharaku

The Evo­lu­tion of The Great Wave off Kana­gawa: See Four Ver­sions That Hoku­sai Paint­ed Over Near­ly 40 Years

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

Every Book of the Bible Explained in One Video

Whether we’re reli­gious or not, we can all agree that the Bible isn’t just a book. In fact, it’s at least 66 of them, 39 Old Tes­ta­ment and 27 in the New, and that’s just in the Protes­tant tra­di­tion. Even if you’ve nev­er read a sin­gle page of the Bible, you may well have a decent idea of what quite a few of those books con­tain: the sto­ries of Adam, Eve, Noah, and the cre­ation in Gen­e­sis; the plagues and Moses part­ing the Red Sea in Exo­dus; the var­i­ous depic­tions of Jesus in the Gospels that define his pop­u­lar image; the apoc­a­lyp­tic grotes­queries of Rev­e­la­tion. That’s even like­li­er to be true if you watch Hochela­ga, the YouTube chan­nel that just came out with a new video explain­ing all those sto­ries and every­thing in between.

The result is long, to be sure, but not as long as you might expect: Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny man­ages to cov­er the 66 books of the Bible in two hours, the length of an ordi­nary fea­ture film. For visu­als, he draws upon the his­to­ry of West­ern art, whose con­nec­tions with Chris­tian­i­ty and pen­chant for depict­ing the reli­gion’s cen­tral events goes with­out say­ing.

In the case of bib­li­cal fig­ures like Jon­ah, Job, or Lot’s wife (before or after her con­ver­sion into a pil­lar of salt), we’ve devel­oped our own men­tal images at least through cul­tur­al osmo­sis, informed or not by the visions of Renais­sance mas­ters. But how many of us can call so eas­i­ly scenes from the books of Oba­di­ah, Hag­gai, or Phile­mon up in our mind’s eye?

This video may prove most help­ful in pro­vid­ing a “big pic­ture” of the Bible, allow­ing view­ers with no expe­ri­ence of bib­li­cal schol­ar­ship to place iso­lat­ed episodes to which they’ve heard ref­er­ences all their lives in con­text with each oth­er. And yet, it’s also entire­ly pos­si­ble that they’ll come out of these two hours won­der­ing to what extent all these parts real­ly fit togeth­er in the first place. Col­lect­ed from mate­r­i­al orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten over cen­turies and in var­i­ous forms, not to men­tion passed through the vagaries of trans­la­tion, the Bible could hard­ly be expect­ed to present itself with pol­ished coher­ence. Whether or not you believe it con­tains the word of God, you could well feel ready, after Hochela­ga’s overview, to grap­ple with its text in all its lin­guis­tic rich­ness, its sur­pris­ing con­tra­dic­tions, and its moral grandeur — as well as its more-than-occa­sion­al strange­ness.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Chris­tian­i­ty Through Its Scrip­tures: A Free Course from Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty

Why Real Bib­li­cal Angels Are Creepy, Beast­ly, and Hard­ly Angel­ic

What Hap­pened to Jesus’ Twelve Dis­ci­ples After the Bible — It Wasn’t Pret­ty

How Many Lives Does God Take in the Bible: An Inves­ti­ga­tion into a Sur­pris­ing­ly High Body Count

Dis­cov­er Thomas Jefferson’s Cut-and-Paste Ver­sion of the Bible, and Read the Curi­ous Edi­tion Online

Isaac Asimov’s Guide to the Bible: A Wit­ty, Eru­dite Atheist’s Guide to the World’s Most Famous Book

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Archaeologists Discover Ancient Egyptian Mummy Buried with Pages from Homer’s Iliad: When Literature Guided Souls Through the Afterlife

Renais­sance Europe admired ancient Rome, ancient Rome admired ancient Greece, and ancient Greece admired ancient Egypt. But the admi­ra­tion could actu­al­ly go both ways in that last case, since the two civ­i­liza­tions’ peri­ods of exis­tence over­lapped. The Greeks made no secret of their regard for Egypt as a far deep­er well of knowl­edge and wis­dom (indeed, much of what we know about ancient Egypt today comes from Greek records), but archae­o­log­i­cal evi­dence shows that the Egyp­tians, in turn, were hard­ly dis­mis­sive of Greek accom­plish­ment. Many Hel­lenic texts have been dis­cov­ered in Egypt­ian bur­ial sites, but only recent­ly has a Greek lit­er­ary work turned up pack­aged with a mum­my — and not just any lit­er­ary work, but pages from Home­r’s Ili­ad.

Unearthed from a 1,600-year-old Roman-era tomb in the Egypt­ian town of Al Bah­nasa, the frag­ment con­tains lines from Book 2’s epic “cat­a­logue of ships,” which lists all the ves­sels the Achaean army sends off to Troy. It dates from an era in ancient Egypt, cen­turies after the reign of the Greek-descend­ed Cleopa­tra, when “Greek lit­er­ary papyri may have func­tioned as a cru­cial cul­tur­al pass­port,” as the New York Times’ Franz Lidz writes.

“Being Hel­lenic con­not­ed an exclu­sive social sta­tus and finan­cial priv­i­lege — and had to be metic­u­lous­ly doc­u­ment­ed through genealo­gies going back across sev­er­al cen­turies.” It’s pos­si­ble that pages of the Ili­ad were assumed to act as a kind of Greek pass­port that would let the deceased bypass the tri­als of the under­world described in the Egypt­ian Book of the Dead.

So ven­er­at­ed was Home­r’s work at this stage of ancient Egypt­ian his­to­ry, in fact, that physi­cians also cred­it­ed it with cura­tive prop­er­ties. “For a bed-bound patient shiv­er­ing with malar­ia, the pre­scrip­tion was sim­ple: Brace your head against a papyrus scroll of Book 4 to break the fever.” What­ev­er the effec­tive­ness of the Ili­ad against infec­tious dis­ease, or even to assure safe pas­sage into the world beyond, its con­tin­ued study around the world more than a mil­len­ni­um and a half after it was get­ting slipped into Egypt­ian tombs — and the bet­ter part of three mil­len­nia after its com­po­si­tion — sug­gests a kind of his­tor­i­cal and cul­tur­al pow­er not pos­sessed by ordi­nary lit­er­a­ture. If Christo­pher Nolan’s com­ing adap­ta­tion of the Odyssey hap­pens to do well enough to get Hol­ly­wood back on its feet, per­haps we’ll have to give it to the ancient Egyp­tians and admit that Homer real­ly does offer sal­va­tion after all.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Homer’s Ili­ad and Odyssey: Free Audio­Books & eBooks

Hear Homer’s Ili­ad Read in the Orig­i­nal Ancient Greek

The Only Illus­trat­ed Man­u­script of Homer’s Ili­ad from Antiq­ui­ty

The Old­est Tat­toos Ever Dis­cov­ered on an Egypt­ian Mum­my Date Back 5,000 Years

The Ancient Egypt­ian Book of the Dead: A Guide­book for Sur­viv­ing the After­life

How Did the Egyp­tians Make Mum­mies? An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to the Ancient Art of Mum­mi­fi­ca­tion

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Watch the Moment When the Wreck of the Titanic Was First Discovered (1985)

The wreck of the RMS Titan­ic has nev­er ceased to com­mand atten­tion, from pop-cul­tur­al fas­ci­na­tion to sci­en­tif­ic scruti­ny and every­thing in between. That can make it seem, espe­cial­ly to the younger gen­er­a­tions, as if human­i­ty has been gaz­ing upon its remains since they first set­tled at the bot­tom of the North Atlantic Ocean. In fact, the pre­cise loca­tion of the ship­wreck went unknown for more than 73 years, between the day of the dis­as­ter, April 15th, 1912, and that of the dis­cov­ery, Sep­tem­ber 1, 1985. In the video above, you can watch the very moment debris from the Titan­ic first came into the view of Argo, the unmanned under­sea cam­era used by the researchers seek­ing it out.

“Some­body should get Bob,” says one of the crew as soon as it becomes clear, even on their low-res­o­lu­tion black-and-white mon­i­tor, that they’re look­ing at man-made objects on the sea floor. And well they should have: the Bob in ques­tion is oceanog­ra­ph­er and Argo inven­tor Robert Bal­lard, who’d been active­ly think­ing about how to find the Titan­ic since at least the ear­ly nine­teen-sev­en­ties and board­ed Woods Hole Oceano­graph­ic Insti­tute’s R/V Knorr with intent to find it.

In truth, the voy­age was financed by the U.S. Navy, which had much less inter­est in find­ing the wreck of the Titan­ic than those of the USS Scor­pi­on and Thresh­er, two nuclear sub­marines lost in the six­ties. If Bal­lard could look for them, so the deal went, he could use the expe­di­tion’s spare time and resources on his life’s mis­sion.

After deter­min­ing that the Scor­pi­on and Thresh­er had implod­ed, Bal­lard and the Knorr crew con­tin­ued on to the gen­er­al area in which the Titan­ic sank. Know­ing that the infa­mous­ly “unsink­able” ocean lin­er would have been sub­ject to the same mighty under­sea pres­sure, they kept their eyes open, through Argo, for sim­i­lar­ly scat­tered frag­ments rather than intact sec­tions of the hull. As the video shows us, the strat­e­gy worked: only when a trail of debris leads them to an iden­ti­fi­able boil­er, proof pos­i­tive that they’d found what they were look­ing for, does the cheer go up. Bal­lard would go on to dis­cov­er oth­er wide­ly known ship­wrecks — the bat­tle­ship Bis­mar­ck, the air­craft car­ri­er USS York­town in 1998 — but one sus­pects that noth­ing quite match­es that first Titan­ic high.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

What Happened to Jesus’ Twelve Disciples After the Bible—It Wasn’t Pretty

The sto­ries in the Bible have been told in many ways, not least through film. Among the many cin­e­mat­ic adap­ta­tions of Chris­tian­i­ty’s holy book, none comes to mind that ends with freeze-frame title cards explain­ing the lat­er fate of each char­ac­ter, in the man­ner of Ani­mal HouseAmer­i­can Graf­fi­ti, or Good­fel­las. This is sur­pris­ing, since that device could do much to sat­is­fy our curios­i­ty about so many sec­ondary Bib­li­cal fig­ures. Take the twelve dis­ci­ples of Jesus Christ, whose lives Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny takes as his sub­ject in the new video above. Be warned: things did­n’t end par­tic­u­lar­ly well for most of them.

Peter, who “has to be one of the most stud­ied fig­ures in his­to­ry,” seems to have end­ed his days in Rome. Chris­tian­i­ty’s rapid spread there in the first cen­tu­ry AD, even­tu­al­ly brought about a crack­down by the rul­ing class. The emper­or Nero blamed the fire of 64 on Chris­tians, and Peter, now known as Saint Peter, was among the vic­tims of the result­ing per­se­cu­tion. Judas, the betray­er of Jesus, “remains the most con­tro­ver­sial fig­ure in all of Chris­tian­i­ty,” though ques­tions about his moti­va­tions have gone with­out defin­i­tive answers. We do know, how­ev­er, that remorse even­tu­al­ly over­took him, lead­ing him to take his own life in Akel­dama, or the “field of blood” — and if you believe Dante, he now resides in the ninth cir­cle of Hell.

Trelawny gives the title of most under­rat­ed to the one whose skep­ti­cism about Jesus’ return from death has guar­an­teed him his own eter­nal life through the expres­sion “doubt­ing Thomas.” (As with Peter and Judas, his iden­ti­ty was solid­i­fied by a Car­avag­gio paint­ing.) Accord­ing to cer­tain sto­ries, he also trav­eled the far­thest of any of the dis­ci­ples: far enough to fol­low exist­ing Roman spice routes and found the church of the Saint Thomas Chris­tians in Ker­ala, India. The not-quite-as-wide­ly known but nev­er­the­less high­ly impor­tant Andrew made trav­els of his own, going to Scythia, and from there to Greece. After his even­tu­al cap­ture and cru­ci­fix­ion, his holy relics were scat­tered far and wide: even to Scot­land, so the leg­end has it, home of the Uni­ver­si­ty of St. Andrews. The St. Andrews’ Cross appears as the main design ele­ment of Scot­land’s nation­al flag, as well as a part of the Union Jack.

In these and oth­er ways, the lega­cies of the dis­ci­ples con­tin­ue to man­i­fest in famil­iar ways through­out the West­ern (and, occa­sion­al­ly, non-west­ern) world. After telling the sto­ries of the remain­ing eight, from John to Bartholomew to Simon the Zealot, Trelawny con­sid­ers the pos­si­bil­i­ty of a mnemon­ic rhyme for their fates. Alas, he admits, “I’m still try­ing to think of what goes with ‘flayed alive by Arme­ni­ans.’ ” Being a dis­ci­ple of Jesus turns out, for the most part, to have been a call­ing with a very low sur­vival rate indeed. But then, in ear­ly Chris­tian­i­ty, mar­tyr­dom was a holy act, a demon­stra­tion of devo­tion in imi­ta­tion of the Mes­si­ah him­self — and an ele­ment sure to make most any dis­ci­ple biopic a grue­some view­ing expe­ri­ence.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Real Sto­ry of East­er: How We Got from the First East­er in the Bible to Bun­nies, Eggs & Choco­late

The Gnos­tic Gospels: An Intro­duc­tion to the For­bid­den Teach­ings of Jesus

Why Real Bib­li­cal Angels Are Creepy, Beast­ly, and Hard­ly Angel­ic

How Our Depic­tion of Jesus Changed Over 2,000 Years and What He May Have Actu­al­ly Looked Like

How Many Lives Does God Take in the Bible: An Inves­ti­ga­tion into a Sur­pris­ing­ly High Body Count

What Makes Caravaggio’s The Tak­ing of Christ a Time­less, Great Paint­ing?

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Why The Founding Fathers Were Obsessed with This Muslim Ruler

The writ­ings of the Found­ing Fathers of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca include many a ref­er­ence to the likes of Cicero, Mon­tesquieu, and John Locke. That the names Hyder Ali and his son Tipu Sul­tan nev­er appear may not sound like much of a sur­prise, even if you hap­pen to know that they ruled the Indi­an region of Mysore, now offi­cial­ly called Mysu­ru, at the time. But his­to­ry records that more than a few Amer­i­cans, includ­ing Thomas Jef­fer­son and John Adams, fol­lowed with great inter­est the strug­gles of that father and son against the British. Those strug­gles took place from the mid-eigh­teenth to the ear­ly nine­teenth cen­tu­ry — a time when the Amer­i­can colonies, of course, had their own con­flict brew­ing with the moth­er­land.

Hyder became the Sul­tan of Mysore in the sev­en­teen-six­ties: “a dan­ger­ous time to come to pow­er in South Asia,” writes Blake Smith at Aeon, giv­en that “the British East India Com­pa­ny was expand­ing its pow­er through­out the Sub­con­ti­nent.” Ally­ing with France, much like the rebelling Amer­i­can colonists, Hyder “held off the British advance for anoth­er two decades, dying in 1782, just a year before the US tri­umphed in its own rebel­lion against Britain.”

Amer­i­ca’s fas­ci­na­tion with Hyder and his suc­ces­sor Tipu, who died in bat­tle with the East India Com­pa­ny in 1799, remained for some time. “Mysore’s rulers became famil­iar ref­er­ences in Amer­i­can news­pa­pers, poems and every­day con­ver­sa­tion. Yet, with­in a gen­er­a­tion, Amer­i­cans lost their sense of sol­i­dar­i­ty with the Indi­an Sub­con­ti­nent.”

You can learn more about this episode of his­to­ry from the PBS Ori­gins video above. It gets into detail about the life of Tipu, known as “the Tiger of Mysore,” a nick­name the man him­self did much to jus­ti­fy. He even “com­mis­sioned a near­ly life-sized automa­ton of a tiger eat­ing a British sol­dier,” says the video’s host, which “includ­ed a crank attached to a mech­a­nism inside the tiger’s body that simul­ta­ne­ous­ly lift­ed the dying man’s arm and pro­duced nois­es imi­tat­ing his final cries.” Though he and his army con­tin­ued to fight in that spir­it, Mysore’s sit­u­a­tion became unten­able after both the U.S. and France made their peace with Britain. Despite the recen­cy of the hos­til­i­ties, the new lib­er­at­ed colony soon became some­thing of an ally in the main­te­nance of the British Empire’s remain­ing ter­ri­to­ries, India includ­ed — and would ulti­mate­ly learn a les­son or two of its own about the glob­al exten­sion of pow­er.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion: A Free Course from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

The Old­est Known Pho­tographs of India (1863–1870)

India on Film, 1899–1947: An Archive of 90 His­toric Films Now Online]

Watch the Rise and Fall of the British Empire in an Ani­mat­ed Time-Lapse Map ( 519 A.D. to 2014 A.D.)

200-Year-Old Robots That Play Music, Shoot Arrows & Even Write Poems: Watch Automa­tons in Action

Bertrand Russell’s Improb­a­ble Appear­ance in a Bol­ly­wood Film (1967)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How a Volcanic Eruption Helped Unleash the Black Death in Europe in 1347

The flap of a but­ter­fly­’s wings on one side of the world can cause a hur­ri­cane on the oth­er, or so they say. If we take it a bit too lit­er­al­ly, that old obser­va­tion may make us won­der what a hur­ri­cane can cause. Or if not a hur­ri­cane, how about anoth­er kind of large-scale nat­ur­al dis­as­ter? If new find­ings by researchers from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cam­bridge and the Leib­niz Insti­tute for the His­to­ry and Cul­ture of East­ern Europe are to be believed, a vol­cano’s erup­tion helped lead to the out­break and spread of the Black Death across Europe in the four­teenth cen­tu­ry. In the video above, British his­to­ry and envi­ron­men­tal sci­ence spe­cial­ist Paul Whitewick explains the evi­dence on a vis­it to one of the aban­doned medieval vil­lages strick­en by that plague.

As Cam­bridge’s Sarah Collins writes, “the evi­dence sug­gests that a vol­canic erup­tion — or clus­ter of erup­tions — around 1345 caused annu­al tem­per­a­tures to drop for con­sec­u­tive years due to the haze from vol­canic ash and gas­es, which in turn caused crops to fail across the Mediter­ranean region.” Des­per­ate Ital­ian city-states thus fell back on trad­ing with grain pro­duc­ers around the Black Sea. “This cli­mate-dri­ven change in long-dis­tance trade routes helped avoid famine, but in addi­tion to life-sav­ing food, the ships were car­ry­ing the dead­ly bac­teri­um that ulti­mate­ly caused the Black Death, enabling the first and dead­liest wave of the sec­ond plague pan­dem­ic to gain a foothold in Europe.”

An impor­tant clue came in the form of “infor­ma­tion con­tained in tree rings from the Span­ish Pyre­nees, where con­sec­u­tive ‘Blue Rings’ point to unusu­al­ly cold and wet sum­mers in 1345, 1346 and 1347 across much of south­ern Europe.” Records of lunar eclipses and lay­ers of sul­fur locked into ice cores dat­ing to about the same time fur­ther height­en the prob­a­bil­i­ty of vol­canic activ­i­ty. Key to tying these dis­parate pieces of evi­dence togeth­er are changes in trade routes: on a map, Whitewick traces “move­ment increas­ing along these cor­ri­dors, grain imports to the mar­itime republics of Venice and Genoa from north of the Black Sea and beyond, in 1347.” Accord­ing to writ­ten records, the Black Death came to Britain the fol­low­ing year, arriv­ing in “a coun­try already shaped by failed har­vests, weak­ened com­mu­ni­ties, and ris­ing move­ment of peo­ple and goods.”

Some com­mu­ni­ties weath­ered the plague and, in the full­ness of time, even bounced back; oth­ers, like the vil­lage amid whose remains Whitewick stands, prac­ti­cal­ly van­ished alto­geth­er. “This was a glob­al prob­lem that became very much a local one,” he says, under­scor­ing its rev­e­la­tion of the risk fac­tors present even in the ear­ly stages of what we now call glob­al­iza­tion. “A vol­canic erup­tion thou­sands of miles away altered cli­mate pat­terns, and that cli­mate reshaped har­vest and trade, and trade car­ried dis­ease. And here, in the qui­et Eng­lish fields, the con­se­quences have set­tled into the ground:” not quite as poet­ic an image as the but­ter­fly and the hur­ri­cane, grant­ed, but hard­ly less rel­e­vant to our own world for it.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of the Plague: Every Major Epi­dem­ic in an Ani­mat­ed Map

A 1665 Adver­tise­ment Promis­es a “Famous and Effec­tu­al” Cure for the Great Plague

The Strange Cos­tumes of the Plague Doc­tors Who Treat­ed 17th Cen­tu­ry Vic­tims of the Bubon­ic Plague

How the Sur­vivors of Pom­peii Escaped Mount Vesu­vius’ Dead­ly Erup­tion: A TED-Ed Ani­ma­tion Tells the Sto­ry

The 1883 Kraka­toa Explo­sion Made the Loud­est Sound in His­to­ry — So Loud It Trav­eled Around the World Four Times

1,000 Years of Medieval Euro­pean His­to­ry in 20 Min­utes

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast