The Japanese samurai suicide by disembowelment is a well-known ritual. In the past, samurai could open their stomachs to end their lives for various reasons: following their master to the grave, restoring their honor, atoning for a crime, etc.
In 1962, the Japanese film Hara-kiri depicted a fallen samurai visiting a feudal palace to request permission to end his life. However, the film’s original Japanese title was Seppuku, named after the ritual. So, which expression is more appropriate?
How does Japanese ritual suicide differ from Western customs?
In modern European culture, taking one’s own life is considered a sin, an act condemned by God. However, in feudal Japan, things were different.
Samurai lived by bushido, a code of conduct based on courage, honor, morality, and dignity. A samurai who strayed too far from the right path and committed too many wrongdoings could choose to take his own life. Through this courageous act, he saved face for himself, his family, and his lord. To “self-execute” (seppuku or harakiri), tradition dictated that the samurai would cut open his belly, as it was believed in Zen Buddhist philosophy that the soul resided there.
Why does “committing harakiri” have a different meaning from “committing seppuku”?
In Japanese, harakiri and seppuku both mean “belly cutting,” though they are written differently. In Europe, harakiri is more commonly used, while in Japan, seppuku is preferred—a word that actually originates from China! This makes sense, as the tradition itself has roots in China. Originally, Chinese women would cut open their bellies to prove they were not pregnant and thus still virtuous.
For the Japanese, harakiri has a vulgar connotation, referring directly to the physical act of cutting the stomach. Seppuku, on the other hand, refers to the formal and structured ceremony, which became a true spectacle for nobles in the 1600s. The term was even used in legal texts and official declarations.
Pain and procedure: How was samurai suicide carried out, and when was the last historical seppuku?
To summarize, commoners and criminals committed harakiri, but true samurai and nobles performed seppuku in front of important witnesses. There were many variations, but generally, the person committing suicide would disembowel themselves using a blade—typically their secondary sword, the wakizashi. They could either complete the act themselves or have an assistant behead them at a predetermined moment.
The earliest known harakiri or seppuku dates back to the 12th century. The practice was officially banned in 1873. However, this did not prevent Japanese soldiers from committing harakiri or seppuku at the end of World War II, nor did it stop the famous Japanese writer Yukio Mishima from taking his own life in this manner on November 25, 1970.
What was the role and life of women in the Middle Ages within medieval society? Their existence varied according to age and social status, their place within the family, their role in the couple, their relationship to sexuality, and the fundamental role of motherhood. The very mystery of childbirth inspired fear in men and, by itself, justified the idea that women were demonic beings, capable of enchanting and bewitching. From young girls to grandmothers, from peasant women to nuns, including noble ladies, it is an entire world—long overlooked—that is only now being rediscovered.
The Young Woman in the Middle Ages
In the Middle Ages, a young woman’s life was divided into three stages: childhood, which lasted until the age of seven; youth, until fourteen; and womanhood, from fourteen to twenty-eight. After this, a woman was considered old, whereas a man was not deemed old until he reached fifty. Canon law set the age of majority at twelve for girls and fourteen for boys. Once past the dangers of early childhood, girls were still regarded by clerics as imperfect beings, little creatures devoid of reason. However, they were granted a degree of purity and innocence, which had to be preserved through strict discipline.
At birth, well-born children were entrusted to a wet nurse, while poor women raised their own newborns. The baby was bathed and then wrapped in linen if they were wealthy, or in hemp if they were not. A diaper cloth was placed over this, crossed at the front. The baby was swaddled with bands of linen or hemp to keep them upright, and in winter, a small cap called a béguinet covered their head. When little girls began to walk, they wore a shirt like boys, along with a long, split robe in red, green, or striped fabric. Poor families made these from old garments. Around the age of two or three, the child was weaned— a crucial stage, as one in three children died before reaching the age of five. Poverty often led to abandonment, especially of girls.
At seven, boys and girls followed different paths. In wealthy families, girls learned to spin with a distaff, embroider, or weave ribbons. This was also the age at which they could be offered to a monastery or betrothed. In rural areas, girls remained with their mothers, helping with household chores, farm work, weaving, and tending animals. They grew up within large sibling groups, where older children played an important role. In the 12th century, the Dominican Vincent of Beauvais advised educating girls in chastity and humility. Mothers therefore ensured that their daughters were modest, hard-working, and obedient.
As for noble girls, they were often placed in convents from an early age, where nuns taught them reading, writing, and needlework. The jurist Pierre Dubois even suggested that they should learn Latin, sciences, and some medicine in the Middle Ages. As a result, they were often better educated than boys, who were primarily trained for war. However, the destiny of a medieval woman was focused on a single purpose: marriage and motherhood.
Women’s Work in the Middle Ages
Even after marriage, women engaged in many professions during the Middle Ages. In towns, they could work in trade, textiles, and food production—such as baking, brewing, and dairy processing—or as laundresses, seamstresses, bonnet-makers, washerwomen, and servants. However, their wages were significantly lower than those of men.
In the countryside, women participated in farming, animal care, household management, spinning and weaving linen, baking bread, preparing meals, and maintaining the fire. And of course, they cared for children. While peasant women were expected to run their households, bourgeois and aristocratic women had to learn how to manage servants, acquire skills in singing and dancing, behave properly in society, and master sewing, spinning, weaving, embroidery, and estate management—especially in their husband’s absence.
The Church viewed educated women with suspicion, emphasizing religious instruction above all. A young girl who had reached puberty was a source of fear and was closely watched by her parents. Female beauty, both feared and desired, was an object of fantasy for men. Clerics associated it with the devil, temptation, and sin, yet it was also celebrated in the ideals of courtly love, inspiring knights and troubadours alike.
Beauty Standards
In the 12th century, the ideal medieval woman was expected to be slender, with a narrow waist, wavy blonde hair, a complexion like lilies and roses, a small rosy mouth, white and even teeth, long black eyes, a high and smooth forehead, and a straight, delicate nose. Her hands and feet were refined and elegant, her hips narrow, her legs slender yet shapely, her breasts small, firm, and high-set, and her skin extremely pale. These beauty standards remained unchanged from the 12th to the 15th century. By the late Middle Ages, the preference for a broad forehead became so extreme that women pulled their hair back excessively and resorted to hair removal. They used various cosmetic tricks to conform to the male ideal.
Witches
For centuries, women were seen as embodiments of evil. Witch trials, which were an outpouring of hatred against women, were the culmination of long-standing clerical misogyny. As daughters of Eve, women were blamed for humanity’s expulsion from the Garden of Eden in collusion with the serpent, and they were believed to be unable to resist casting spells. It was even thought that they could magically “steal” a man’s virility through a spell known as the nouement de l’aiguillette. Accused of black magic, sorcery, and enchantments, so-called “heretical” women were burned by the thousands during the Inquisition.
Until the 15th century, many nervous disorders were attributed to demonic possession, provoking fear and loathing. These afflicted individuals were thought to be creatures of the devil. In 1330, Pope John XXII intensified witch trials. In 1487, two German Dominican monks, Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprenger, wrote Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches), which became the standard legal text for witch trials for the next two centuries. This work fueled an unprecedented witch hunt in the 16th and 17th centuries. It was not until the 18th century that these monstrous trials ceased, thanks to the rise of rational thought and the influence of Enlightenment intellectuals.
Marriage in the Middle Ages
Marriage of Louis IX and Marguerite of Provence. Saint Louis practicing abstinence. Miniature taken from Life and Miracles of Saint Louis.
Marriage in the Middle Ages was arranged by parents in all social classes. Among the nobility, it was a means to strengthen or create alliances between territories, increase landholdings, and amass wealth. Women were the subject of negotiations, sometimes even before they were aware of it. If a wife failed to produce male heirs, she risked repudiation—something not condemned by the Church. In 15th-century Flanders, the average age of marriage for women was between thirteen and sixteen, while for men, it was between twenty and thirty. This age gap had two major consequences: short-lived marriages and frequent remarriages. In other social groups, it was the father who chose a husband for his daughter, with negotiations taking place between the respective families.
The bride brought a dowry from her parents, following the Roman tradition, which could take the form of property, land, or livestock. The groom also provided a dowry for his wife.
The Married Woman’s Code and Domestic Violence
Mesnagier de Paris (BNF Français 12477) f. 1r detail: miniature.
Charter of the Married Woman and Domestic Violence
The author of the Ménagier de Paris outlines the behavior expected of a good wife: after her morning prayers, she should dress appropriately for her social status, and she should leave the house accompanied by respectable women, walking with her eyes lowered, avoiding looking to the left or right (many representations from this time depict her with her eyes modestly lowered).
She is to place her husband above all men, with the duty to love, serve, and obey him, refraining from contradicting him in all matters. She should be gentle, kind, and amiable, and when faced with his anger, she should remain calm and composed. If she discovers his infidelity, she should confide her sorrow only to God. She must ensure that he lacks for nothing, maintaining an even temper.
It was common, and sometimes even recommended, for husbands to beat their wives during the Middle Ages. In the 13th century, the customs of Beauvais allowed a husband to correct his wife, especially in cases of disobedience.
Brutality and depravity were often exemplified by many of the Merovingian kings. It was easy to accuse a wife of adultery and imprison her, or even kill her, to remarry, since legislative sources confirmed the supremacy of the husband within the home, which he abused with impunity. This violence was found across all social classes.
However, there were instances of happy marriages, but it was considered inappropriate to speak of them—such matters were not to be discussed. Among the aristocracy, courtly love, with its rules and customs, allowed young people to experience the emotions of love without overstepping the boundaries.
The Church and Sexuality
In the Middle Ages, the Church only sanctioned sexuality for the purpose of procreation. Even in antiquity, Stoic philosophers opposed bodily pleasures, and this view persisted into the medieval period. A woman was considered impure during her menstrual cycle and was expected to avoid intercourse, as was the case during pregnancy.
The Church also imposed strict restrictions on sexual relations between spouses, forbidding them during religious holidays such as Lent, Christmas, and Easter, on saints’ feast days, before communion, on Sundays (the Lord’s Day), and on Wednesdays and Fridays (days of mourning). Clergy members sought to contain excessive passion by severely limiting its expression. Failure to adhere to these rules could even lead to an accusation of adultery—between husband and wife!
Pregnancy, Childbirth, Contraception, and Intimate Hygiene
Since a married woman’s primary role was to bear children, infertility was highly stigmatized. However, pregnancy and childbirth were life-threatening experiences for young mothers and their babies due to a lack of medical knowledge, proper resources, and especially poor hygiene. Many women died during labor or from postpartum infections such as puerperal fever.
Even minor complications—breech births, twins, or prolonged and difficult labor—could be fatal for the mother. Thus, the joy of fulfilling their societal role was accompanied by deep anxiety. Maternal mortality peaked between the ages of twenty and thirty. If a woman died in childbirth, the midwife had to quickly perform a cesarean section to extract the baby and administer an emergency baptism (ondoiement), as the Church believed this would prevent the child’s soul from wandering in limbo.
Childbirth was the exclusive domain of midwives, whose knowledge was passed down through generations. After delivery, the mother was considered impure and was forbidden from entering a church for forty days, at which point a priest would perform a purification ceremony known as les relevailles. The new mother, guided by the experienced women in her family, was expected to care for her child, with boys being valued more highly than girls. If both parents were absent, the child was placed under the protection of godparents, sometimes multiple, to increase the chances of survival.
To avoid frequent pregnancies, women relied on herbal concoctions, potions, amulets, and even induced trauma—methods strictly condemned by the Church. In desperate situations, some resorted to abandoning their newborns or, in extreme cases, infanticide. To prevent such tragedies, the Church decreed in 600 AD that impoverished mothers could leave their infants on church doorsteps, allowing priests to arrange adoptions among parishioners.
Rape and Prostitution in the Middle Ages
A constant threat to young girls and married women, rape was committed both in times of peace and war. Rarely punished, it left victims to bear the shame of dishonor and the fear of pregnancy. Feudal lords often exercised droit de cuissage (the so-called “right of the first night”), which allowed them to sleep with a newlywed bride without her or her husband’s consent. Only the rape of a high-ranking noblewoman was punishable by death.
If a woman became pregnant from rape, she was often blamed, as society believed she was somehow responsible. During wartime, sexual violence was tragically common, and no woman, regardless of age or status, was spared. Conquering forces engaged in pillaging, arson, rape, murder, and brutality with impunity, making medieval life especially dangerous for women, who bore the heaviest burden of these atrocities.
During the Middle Ages, both the Church and secular authorities held an ambiguous stance on prostitution. While they officially condemned it, they also considered it a necessary evil. Many women who turned to prostitution had been dishonored by rape, abandoned after bearing the illegitimate children of their masters, or forced into destitution as laborers. The rise of urban centers from the 12th century onward led to the establishment of brothels, where prostitutes were confined to specific areas to prevent them from roaming the streets and setting a “bad example” for other women.
In the 14th and 15th centuries, widespread war and epidemics pushed more women into extreme poverty, leaving them with few options for survival other than prostitution. Medieval society viewed women in rigid dichotomies: they were either pure or public. A girl who was raped, regardless of her innocence or ignorance, was often permanently labeled as a “fallen woman,” making reintegration into society nearly impossible. Many women who began as chambermaids in public bathhouses (étuves) found themselves coerced into brothels.
Wealthier prostitutes attempted to dress like bourgeois women, despite sumptuary laws requiring them to wear distinctive clothing. The writer Christine de Pizan, an early advocate for women’s rights, denounced such societal hypocrisy and the degradation of women. Eventually, the Church established charitable institutions for repentant prostitutes, offering them an opportunity to escape the cycle of vice, take religious vows, or even marry.
Whether noblewomen, peasants, craftswomen, nuns, recluses, “fallen women,” or accused witches, medieval women lived vastly diverse experiences. Their lives merit continued exploration, especially the contributions of educated and literate women. Through their writings—poems, psalters, and various treatises—they left a lasting imprint on history. Alongside these manuscripts, inquisitorial trial records offer valuable insights into the daily lives and struggles of women during the Middle Ages.
Religious Life of Women in the Middle Ages
The first monastery was established in Gaul in 513. In the 6th century, during the Merovingian kingdom, religious communities, often founded by women, multiplied: Queen Radegund founded Sainte-Croix, Queen Bathilde established an abbey in 656, and others appeared in Normandy. The Carolingian era saw the creation of numerous monasteries thanks to donations from royal families. After the violent period of Viking raids, new abbeys emerged around the year 1000, followed by Benedictine communities affiliated with the Cluny order. Women’s monasteries primarily recruited daughters from noble families, as a dowry was required to enter the convent.
In this era deeply marked by faith, some women had a genuine religious calling, while others saw monastic life as a way to escape marriage, secure a safe and comfortable existence, or gain access to education and culture. Abbeys could also receive widows and noblewomen along with their families in the absence of their husbands. Candidates for the veil had to renounce all their possessions and follow the strict rules of Saint Benedict. After the noon mass, one hundred strikes were sounded on a cymbal to signal the sisters to prepare for the meal, giving rise to the expression “être aux cent coups” (literally, “to be at one hundred strikes,” meaning to be overwhelmed).
The abbess, who governed the monastery, was often appointed by princely families and had to be over thirty years old. She oversaw a staff of assistants, including officers, prioresses, portresses, cellaresses, and nuns. Professed nuns held authority over novices, lay sisters, oblates, and servants. This hierarchy ensured the proper functioning of the community. A few men were admitted to monasteries as well, including farmhands responsible for agricultural work and the priest who officiated mass. Monasteries also served as educational centers where girls and boys, starting at the age of seven, were taught reading, writing, the Psalter, and sometimes painting.
Abbeys lived in self-sufficiency. In the 11th century, double monasteries began to develop—on one side lived monks, and on the other, nuns, separated by enclosures and grilles. However, the Church viewed this arrangement with suspicion, and it eventually became subject to conciliar and civil prohibitions. (It was even reported that many infants were secretly entombed as a result of this cohabitation.) Some women, seeking to atone for their sins and devote themselves entirely to God, practiced strict reclusion, living in a small stone cell called a reclusoir. The door was sealed, leaving only a small opening to receive food. This choice was preceded by a solemn ceremony of definitive renunciation of public life.
These cells were often built near a church, cemetery (such as the Cemetery of the Innocents), or a bridge where passersby could consult the recluse and ask for prayers on their behalf. The golden age of reclusion lasted from the 11th to the 14th century. By the 12th century, nuns belonged primarily to the Benedictine or Cistercian orders, followed later by the Dominicans and the Poor Clares. All monasteries were required to provide shelter for travelers and pilgrims. Religion permeated cultural life and played a fundamental role in the lives of medieval women, whether they were nuns or laywomen.
Entertainment and Leisure
Despite being deeply occupied with their work, rural women still found opportunities to converse at the village fountain or the mill. In the evenings, they gathered in small rounded rooms called écraignes, spinning wool with their distaffs while chatting together. Others spent their evenings with family by the fireside.
The Évangiles des quenouilles (literally, “The Distaff Gospels”) depicted elderly women discussing a wide range of topics during gatherings between Christmas and Candlemas, reflecting many popular beliefs widespread in Flanders and Picardy at the end of the 15th century.
Festivals, both religious and secular, provided opportunities for entertainment. In May, village boys had the right to esmayer the young women—an old custom in which they would gather with the girls’ consent and, on the first Sunday of May at dawn, place tree branches in front of the door of the one they admired. This charming tradition is referenced in literary and artistic documents. Family celebrations brought together both aristocrats and peasants, with women playing a prominent role.
During agrarian festivals, queens were sometimes elected. Rural dances, called caroles, brought men and women together in circles and processions around trees and fountains, moving to the rhythm of love songs. Other dances included the tresque or farandole, the trippe (similar to a jig), the vireli (a turning dance), the coursault (a type of gallop), and the baler du talon. These dances provoked the ire of moralists, as the touching of hands and feet, along with the close proximity of dancers, was believed to encourage sin! Fortunately, these condemnations had little effect.
Lords and sovereigns organized lavish banquets followed by sophisticated dances, where ladies adorned themselves in their finest attire. The highlight of a medieval feast came during the entremets, when entertainers such as singers, jugglers, storytellers, and minstrels showcased their talents. In 1454, nobles and aristocrats eagerly attended the famous Feast of the Pheasant. Board games were also popular, including chess, jonchets (similar to pick-up sticks), and card games, which emerged in the 15th century. The jeu de paume, the ancestor of tennis, remained a favorite pastime among the nobility. Some noblewomen engaged in falconry, hunting with hawks or sparrowhawks.
Travel, while primarily undertaken for business or official matters, also served as a form of leisure. Jousts and tournaments provided lords with an opportunity to test their skills and offered a grand spectacle for noble ladies. These events were strictly governed by the codes of chivalry, with women honored as the audience.
Street performers—including animal trainers, acrobats, jugglers, musicians, and storytellers—attracted crowds of onlookers. Processions and princely entrances dazzled the public, with streets cleaned for the occasion and decorated with flowers and draped fabrics. Small theatrical performances, known as histoires or mystères, were held near churches or at crossroads. Theater was a major attraction in medieval towns, with women attending alongside their noisy children. Medieval music, singing, and public readings were highly appreciated by the nobility, and young girls received musical instruction as part of their education.
Widowhood and Old Age
As a consequence of epidemics and wars, many women who married very young found themselves widowed with young children in difficult financial conditions, which pushed them to remarry. Aristocrats had little choice, as they needed support to defend their domains, and they also faced pressure from their families who wanted to use them to form new alliances. When children were adults, their mother could remain with them, her assets remaining incorporated into the family patrimony. If she wished to remarry or enter a convent, she could reclaim her dowry or dower, but her heirs preferred to pay her an annuity.
These situations often generated conflicts of interest and endless lawsuits within families. A young unmarried widow was viewed with suspicion, with doubts about avarice or lust weighing upon her. In towns, however, she could continue to run her workshop or business, or establish a small enterprise. In her book “The Three Virtues,” Christine de Pisan, herself widowed very young, advises women to ignore gossip, to show wisdom, to pray for their deceased husband’s salvation, and encourages young widows to remarry to escape poverty and prostitution.
Women of the time experienced several matrimonial lives and had children from different fathers. Wealthy widows attracted covetousness; they were often kidnapped and remarried against their will. By the end of the Middle Ages, family control was so strong that women had no choice; parents took charge of arranging their successive unions. How was a widow who managed to remain one supposed to behave? She had to wear simple black clothing, conduct herself with dignity, and frequently attend church services.
The elderly woman was rather denigrated; at sixty, she symbolized ugliness and was associated with witchcraft, religious art attributed her with an evil role. The age of mortality was between thirty and forty years for women, forty to fifty years for men on average. Gregory of Tours cites cases of women of advanced age for the time: Queen Ingegeberge, wife of Caribert, the nun Ingitrude… Some Abbesses reached seventy or eighty years in the countryside or among the aristocracy.
Noble Women and Women of Letters
Two categories of women participated in medieval cultural life: secular women of noble birth and nuns. Educated, they protected writers and artists, composed scholarly works, and studied languages and poetry. At King Clotaire’s court, Radegund received extensive literary education; Fortunatus speaks of her readings from Christian literature. According to Einhard, Charlemagne desired the same liberal arts education for his daughters as for his sons. Dhuoda in 841 composed a work for her son William and appreciated poetry.
Around the year 1000, the Ottonian court included many educated women, Adelaide, wife of Otto I, Gerberga, niece of this emperor who spoke Greek and studied classical authors. In the 12th century, Heloise knew philosophical and sacred quotations, spoke Latin, and according to Abelard had studied Greek and Hebrew. Adela of Blois in 1109 is cited in Hugh of Fleury’s work “Universal History.” The love of letters and arts is found among the ladies of the 14th and 15th centuries.
Eleanor of Aquitaine reigned over troubadours around 1150. She protected courtly poetry and rendered judgments in André the Chaplain’s treatise on “Courtly Love.” Writers orbited in her circle under the influence of the Latin poet Ovid. Her daughter Marie of Champagne would write numerous works and also protect letters. In the 12th and 13th centuries, female literature was represented by many writers addressing religious or secular themes.
Hildegard of Bingen, called the prophetess of the Rhine, born at the end of the 11th century to a noble Rhineland family, was offered to the Lord at eight years old, took her vows at fifteen, then was elected Abbess around forty. She authored three works: “Know the Ways,” “The Book of Life’s Merits,” and “The Book of Divine Works,” born from her visions. She traveled extensively, corresponded with the great figures of the earth – emperors, bishops, lords, and noble ladies. She also composed the “Book of Simple Medicine” illustrated with herbals, a bestiary, and a lapidary. Her “Causae et curae” is a manual of practical medicine and pharmacology.
At the end of the Middle Ages, Christine de Pizan would become the first woman to make a living by her pen. Herself the daughter of an astrologer and physician, becoming widowed very young with a family to support, she created works in verse and prose dealing with love and wisdom, emphasizing loyalty and fidelity. Ballads, rondeaux, virelais, and other lyrical pieces allowed her to exercise her rhetorical virtuosity.
She would be protected by French princes: Charles V’s brother, Duke of Berry, Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, Charles VI, Louis of Orleans, Louis of France…. Several of her works would be translated. It was therefore not uncommon to encounter educated women writers in these periods of history.
The medieval period covering ten centuries, the role of women evolved, sometimes regressed depending on laws and economic or demographic realities. Eventually, women would become the subject of passionate debate at the center of a Christian West that doubted and questioned… Since then, the “quarrel” of women has never ceased to stir society.
The Song Dynasty began in 960 CE, following several decades of political chaos in China. China was divided and in the midst of civil war, with each faction trying to recreate the Empire and take control. The commander-in-chief of the Later Zhou dynasty armies (one of the Ten Kingdoms of Southern China), Commander Zhao Hongyin, led an uprising and deposed the previous emperor before taking the name Emperor Taizu and founding the Song dynasty. From the beginning of his reign in 960 until his death sixteen years later, he conquered all other kingdoms except for the Northern Han, reunifying China under a single authority.
The Song dynasty capital was established in northeastern China, in Kaifeng. From Emperor Taizu onwards, administrative reforms were launched. Major cartography projects and work on communication routes were undertaken. Precise maps of each major city and province were drawn: these were the first atlases. However, the main reform was establishing a generalized examination system for recruiting imperial officials. This resulted in drastically reducing the proportion of officials recruited based on their birth, transforming the imperial administration into a near-meritocratic system. By improving the recruitment of officials, the Empire equipped itself with a truly effective administration. This policy continued throughout the dynasty.
The idea behind this examination system was to promote social mobility and equality among competitors. The success was ultimately rather mixed. While the administrative examination did indeed select the most capable, these were often from the scholarly elite, as they had access to much better education than the average Empire citizen.
However, while the administration underwent profound reforms, the legal system remained virtually identical to that used by the Tang dynasty, based on principles from Confucian philosophy. The judge alone decided the guilt of an accused and the appropriate punishment. The position of magistrate was considered an honor, and the judge himself was supposed to be an example for his contemporaries.
In terms of foreign policy, the Song dynasty represented the first central power in China in more than half a century, and consequently had to reestablish diplomatic relations with its neighbors. Song emperors’ envoys recreated diplomatic relations with India, Central Asian khans, Indonesian kingdoms, and as far as Egypt. While China’s relations with the rest of the world were generally peaceful and centered on trade, relations with its direct neighbors were permanently on the brink of war. On the northern frontier, the Liao and Xia dynasties occupied part of the territory considered integral to China.
A portrait of Emperor Gaozong of Song (r. 1127–1162). Image: National Palace Museum.
Although the Song had undertaken important reforms, their military power was reduced, and Liao troops could ravage northern China with impunity until 1005 after repelling an attempted conquest.
In the early 11th century, Song armies nearly managed to conquer Xia territories, but internal divisions in the Song high command ultimately cost them this campaign. Between 1075 and 1077, the Song went to war with their southern neighbors, the Ly, who governed present-day Vietnam, over a border dispute. This war was particularly bloody, and above all useless since it ended with a return to the status quo that prevailed before the start of hostilities.
The Song, who had accomplished the feat of reunifying China and taking control while beginning to reform a society unchanged since the Tang era, were nevertheless unable to effectively defend their borders.
Thus, when the Jurchens, a minority within the Liao kingdom, rebelled to form the Jin dynasty, the Song provided them significant military support to finally rid themselves of their troublesome northern neighbor in 1125. The Jurchens, however, noticed the weaknesses of the Song armies and seized the opportunity to expand their territory, launching two successive campaigns against the Song in 1125 and 1127, the second leading to the “Jingkang Humiliation,” where the Jurchens captured the emperor, his heir, and the majority of the imperial court. The self-proclaimed Emperor Gaozong led the remains of the Song dynasty south of the Yangtze and established the Southern Song dynasty in Lin’an (Hangzhou).
The Southern Song
Model of the capital city Kaifeng. Image: Flickr, CC0.
Having lost control of northern China and militarily broken, the Song had to find new ways to support their economy and defend against constant Jin attacks on their northern border.
And, for the first time in Chinese history, the Song Emperors sought a solution outside their borders. Barely five years after the Jingkang humiliation, the first imperial navy was created. Deep-water ports, lighthouses, warehouses, and shipyards… all were created with a speed only a centralized power was capable of. The imperial navy supported and protected trade routes with Japan and Korea, Southeast Asian kingdoms, India, and the Arabian Peninsula. Military innovations, such as the use of gunpowder and the first paddle wheel ships, allowed the Song to defeat the Jin navy, even when fighting 1 against 20, at the battles of Canshi and Tangdao in 1161. The imperial navy then had 3,000 men.
Furthermore, to fund the Empire’s defense, the Song confiscated some of the elite’s lands. This movement caused a radical increase in tax evasion, with landowner families using their administrative connections to avoid paying their taxes. The situation at the end of the 11th century was completely new. Gradually, one could distinguish a number of large landowner families who had also placed some of their sons in the administration. These families formed a new elite.
Moreover, the examination system created during the Northern Song was restricted to a certain number of dignitaries. As a result, given the explosive population growth, the number of imperial administration officials was no longer sufficient. In the end, the State became less and less involved in local affairs. For example, more and more schools were funded by private funds – funds coming from the landowner families mentioned above, strengthening their influence.
Star map of the south polar projection for Su’s celestial globe, Xin Yi Xiang Fa Yao, 1092.
By the end of the 12th century, a certain balance had been reached. Relations with the Jin were more or less stabilized, and the Empire’s internal affairs remained under control. In the early years of the 13th century, the end of the Song dynasty would appear. Between 1205 and 1209, the Song’s main adversaries, the Jin, fell victim to raids by Mongol armies led by Genghis Khan. In 1211, they were definitively crushed and subjected to the Khan, forced to pay tribute. When they moved their capital from Beijing to Kaifeng, the Mongols saw it as rebellion, and the Jin were wiped off the map.
Meanwhile, the Mongols subdued the Western Xia and Korea. Some Mongol forces conducted sporadic raids on the southern bank of the Yangtze starting in 1259, but in 1265, a decisive victory in Sichuan gave the advantage to the Mongols. After the capture of Xiangyang and the defeat of 130,000 Chinese soldiers in 1275, the Mongols encountered no further obstacles in their conquest. The Yuan dynasty, founded in 1271 by Kublai Khan, finally overcame the last Song resistance at the Battle of the Pearl River (in southern China) in 1279. Most members of the imperial family committed suicide, and the Mongols became the new masters of the Middle Kingdom.
Arts and Culture in Song China
Auspicious Cranes, a painting of the Song royal palace by Emperor Huizong. Image: Public Domain.
The Song dynasty marks a true revolution in the artistic domain. Painting, Literature, Ceramics, Opera… in all areas, new methods and practices transformed the Chinese artistic landscape.
Painting, first and foremost, saw the emergence of the Shanshui style (literally: mountains and rivers), and the proliferation of landscape paintings. The influence of Taoism, according to which man is but a tiny part of a much vaster universe, probably partly explains this enthusiasm for landscapes. The same type of representations can be found decorating lacquered wooden objects from this period, as well as on bronze and jade engravings, sculptures, and even frescoes and bas-reliefs. The most classic scene depicted, with some variations, high mountains lost in fog in the background, and rivers and waterfalls flowing to the foreground.
From the Northern Song dynasty to the Southern Song dynasty, representations changed, focusing increasingly on details, such as a bird on a branch, for example… Several great artists were admitted to the imperial court, the most famous among them being Zhang Zhuedang (1085-1145), who painted the scroll titled Along the River During the Qingming Festival.
A Liao dynasty (907–1125) polychrome wood-carved statue of Guanyin, Shanxi. Image: Bodhisattva Guanyin.
In terms of literature, the Song dynasty saw the birth of works by famous poets such as Su Shi (1037-1101), Mi Fu (1051-1107), and the first Chinese female poet, Li Qingzhao (1084-1151). The most popular form of Song poetry was the ci form, developed under the Tang. Besides the popularity of poetic art, Song literature also includes impressive works on history, such as the universal history Zizhi Tongjian, completed in 1184, containing more than 3 million characters in 294 volumes. The “New Book of Tang” (1060) and the “Four Books of Song” (throughout the 10th century) were also important works.
Finally, numerous scientific writings emerged under the Song, whose control over China relied partly on technological advancement, including Shen Kuo’s “Essays from the Dream Pool,” a work covering many fields, from art to military strategy, anthropology, and archaeology. Among these were numerous works on agronomy, notably the “Cha Lu” on tea cultivation, and the “Zhu Zi Cang Fa” on seed management.
Countless atlases and geographical works were also produced, ordered by successive emperors who saw them as a means to better defend their kingdom.
Theater under the Song had an ambiguous status. It was under the Northern Song, in Kaifeng, that theater became an industry in China for the first time. Four of the theaters established in the capital could accommodate several thousand people. The troupes performing in the streets and markets were too numerous to count, and more than fifty permanent theaters were established in the city’s pleasure district. The plays were always recited in classical Chinese and accompanied by music, sometimes by full orchestras. But at the same time, although almost as educated as members of the imperial administration, actors were still considered inferior members of society, having a status close to that of prostitutes. However, this did not affect the popularity of theater troupes. Some were so successful that it was said their members could become rich in a single evening.
Religion and Philosophy
Portrait of the Chinese Zen Buddhist Wuzhun Shifan, painted in 1238 AD.
The Song dynasty marks a major change in the history of Chinese philosophies, a change that would impact all of Asia. At the beginning of the dynasty, Buddhism was declining, as it was considered a “foreign” religion, and especially as being very abstract, in contrast to Confucian classics and Taoism, which addressed practical problems like administration or family life, and were “native” philosophies, born from Chinese thinkers.
Confucianism, or rather, Neo-Confucianism was being born. Confucius’s texts had become essential again for the intellectual elite in seeking solutions to govern the Empire, and these intellectuals, like Ouyang Xiu (1007-1072), did not hesitate to associate Buddhism’s implantation with China’s decline (he called Buddhism a “curse”). Led by Cheng Yi (1033-1107) and Zhu Xi (1130-1200), Neo-Confucianism aimed to purify Confucianism of its mystical aspects, moving it away from religion and closer to political philosophy.
The movement’s success was meteoric; Zhu Xi’s commentary on Confucius’s Four Books, rejected during his lifetime, became in 1241 one of the mandatory classics for entering the imperial administration. In the following decades, Korea and Japan also adopted neo-Confucian principles, both in education and administration. However, Buddhism was not dead. Zen Buddhism also developed under the Song, with monk Wuzhun Shifan even being called to Emperor Lizong’s court to share details of Chan (Zen) doctrine.
Technology and Inventions under the Song Dynasty
Traction trebuchet on an Early Song dynasty warship from the Wujing Zongyao. Image: Public Domain.
The Song dynasty was a true revolution, mainly thanks to inventions and discoveries that completely revolutionized the era, both in military and civilian matters. First major invention: gunpowder. Or to be exact, the development of many weapons using powder, including flamethrowers, mines, grenades, and cannons. These inventions allowed the Song to repel multiple invasion attempts for over three centuries. The Wujing Zongyao treatise was the world’s first to detail the manufacture and uses of gunpowder.
In civilian matters, the discoveries and inventions are countless. Shen Kuo was the first to develop a compass indicating North, thus facilitating cartography and navigation. Furthermore, he also established a theory about climate changes over time, establishing the hypothesis of “cold” and “warm” eras. His creations were not limited to this, including among others the manufacture of water clocks, an astrological telescope allowing him to locate the North Star. In terms of mathematics, the Song dynasty saw the introduction of zero in Chinese mathematics, opening the door to algebra. Geometers of the time were mainly employed by emperors to develop a more efficient mapping system, which took the form of the first Chinese maps with precise scale (1:900,000).
A Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127) era Chinese painting of a water-powered mill for grain, with surrounding river transport.
Another Song dynasty invention, the movable type press, corresponds roughly to the press invented, or rather reinvented by Gutenberg. This invention dates to the 10th century in China and played a major role in the dissemination of classical texts, and, coinciding with new administrative recruitment methods, significantly increased social mobility. The press continued to be improved throughout subsequent dynasties. Finally, besides the compass invented by Shen Kuo, a lock system was developed during this dynasty, allowing ships to be brought into dry dock for repair. These two inventions gave considerable advantage to the Chinese navy.
The invention of the compass, gunpowder, and printing are often considered the three elements that led to the end of the Middle Ages in Europe and opened the door to the Renaissance, but it was in China that these inventions were first created. The Song dynasty was a true renewal in Chinese history, both socially and technologically.
It was also the last truly Chinese dynasty before the Ming came to power. But ultimately, the aftermath of the Tang dynasty’s fall also led to the loss of the Song, who, to prevent the army from becoming a threat to imperial power, chose to keep it tightly controlled, to the point that the Song army failed to prevent conquest by the Mongols.
However, the revolutions of the Song dynasty would leave a legacy that the Ming dynasty would use to overthrow Mongol rule and regain power for three new centuries.
Q/A on the Song Dynasty
Who founded the Song Dynasty?
The dynasty was founded by Emperor Taizu (Zhao Kuangyin), a military general who seized power in 960 CE and established the Song Dynasty, ending the chaotic Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period.
What were the key achievements of the Song Dynasty?
Technological innovations: Gunpowder, movable type printing, and the compass. Economic growth: Development of paper money, urbanization, and a market economy. Cultural flourishing: Advancements in poetry, painting, and Neo-Confucianism. Governance: Expansion of the civil service examination system.
What caused the division into Northern and Southern Song?
The Northern Song (960–1127) ruled over most of China but fell to the Jurchen-led Jin Dynasty in 1127. The Song court fled south, establishing the Southern Song (1127–1279) with its capital at Hangzhou.
What technological innovations emerged during the Song Dynasty?
Gunpowder: Initially used for fireworks, later for military purposes. Movable type printing: Invented by Bi Sheng, revolutionizing book production. Compass: Improved navigation and maritime trade. Agricultural tools: Enhanced farming productivity.
For two thousand years, Roman poets, Renaissance playwrights, and Hollywood directors have framed the final war of the Roman Republic (32 to 30 BC) as a morality tale of fatal seduction: the story that a brilliant Roman general, Marcus Antonius (Mark Antony), threw away half an empire because he was bewitched by the exotic charms of the Egyptian queen Cleopatra VII, leaving his virtuous young rival Octavian no choice but to go to war to save Rome from an Eastern monarch. Yet when modern historians strip away two millennia of brilliant Augustan wartime propaganda, a far colder geopolitical truth emerges. Cleopatra did not cause the civil war between Octavian and Mark Antony; rather, an inevitable collision between two incompatible Roman warlords used Cleopatra as the ultimate political scapegoat.
The Structural Flaw of the Second Triumvirate
The roots of the conflict between Octavian and Mark Antony were planted in 44 BC, more than three years before Antony ever began his partnership with Cleopatra at Tarsus. When Julius Caesar was assassinated on the Ides of March, forty-year-old Mark Antony—Caesar’s seasoned co-consul and finest battlefield lieutenant—fully expected to inherit the leadership of the Caesarian faction. To his shock, the opening of Caesar’s will revealed that the dictator had posthumously adopted his obscure, sickly eighteen-year-old great-nephew, Gaius Octavius (Octavian), and left the teenager three-quarters of his vast fortune.
Although Octavian and Antony temporarily set aside their mutual hatred in 43 BC (alongside Marcus Aemilius Lepidus) to form the Second Triumvirate and hunt down Caesar’s assassins Brutus and Cassius at the Battle of Philippi in 42 BC, the Roman Mediterranean simply was not big enough to hold two supreme autocrats forever. Once the Republic’s enemies were dead and the third triumvir, Lepidus, was sidelined in 36 BC, the divide of the empire—with Octavian holding Italy and the West, and Antony holding the wealthy Greek and Near Eastern provinces—guaranteed an eventual final showdown for sole mastery of the Roman world, regardless of who sat on the throne of Egypt.
Why Mark Antony Needed Cleopatra’s Treasury and Grain
When Mark Antony summoned Cleopatra VII to meet him at Tarsus in 41 BC and subsequently renewed their political and personal alliance in 37 BC, his motives were just as hard-headed and strategic as hers. Tasked with governing the eastern half of the Roman Empire and launching a massive military invasion of the Parthian Empire in Mesopotamia to avenge the death of Crassus, Antony needed three things that only Ptolemaic Egypt possessed in abundance: limitless gold reserves, a massive Mediterranean war fleet, and vast surplus harvests of Nile wheat to feed sixteen Roman legions.
For her part, Cleopatra was not a lovesick seductress acting on impulse; she was a calculating Macedonian head of state fighting to keep Egypt independent while expanding her kingdom back to the historic borders of her ancestors in Syria, Cyprus, and Judea. When Antony’s invasion of Parthia in 36 BC ended in a disastrous logistical retreat after Octavian refused to send him twenty thousand promised Italian legionaries in exchange for ships Antony had already lent Octavian, Antony had no choice but to rely completely on Cleopatra’s money and supplies to rebuild his shattered army. The subsequent “Donations of Alexandria” in 34 BC—in which Antony proclaimed Cleopatra “Queen of Kings,” acknowledged her teenaged son by Julius Caesar, Caesarion, as Caesar’s true blood son, and awarded Eastern royal titles to his three young children with Cleopatra—was a practical Roman reorganization of Eastern client kingdoms, yet it handed Octavian a propaganda weapon of priceless value.
Caesarion: The True Existential Threat to Octavian
From Octavian’s perspective in Rome, the single most dangerous human being alive inside Alexandria was not Mark Antony, nor even Cleopatra herself—it was thirteen-year-old Ptolemy XV Caesar, known as Caesarion. Everything Octavian possessed in politics—the loyalty of Julius Caesar’s veteran troops, his seat in the Senate, and his legal name, Imperator Caesar Divi Filius (“Son of the Deified Caesar”)—rested on a piece of legal adoption paperwork.
When Mark Antony stood up in Alexandria in 34 BC and wrote to the Roman Senate officially confirming that Julius Caesar had recognized Caesarion as his legitimate biological son, Antony struck a dagger directly at the heart of Octavian’s political legitimacy. If Caesar had a real flesh-and-blood son sitting on a golden throne in Egypt backed by Antony’s legions, then Octavian was merely an adopted placeholder. For Octavian to survive as sole ruler of Rome, Antony’s alliance with the mother of Caesarion had to be destroyed.
Octavian’s Genius Propaganda Stroke: Declaring War on a Foreign Queen
In 32 BC, as the legal term of the Triumvirate expired and both consuls plus three hundred senators fled Rome to join Mark Antony in the East, Octavian faced a delicate domestic problem. After twenty years of bloody Roman civil wars, the citizens and soldiers of Italy were sick to death of killing fellow Romans. If Octavian stood before the Senate and asked for another fratricidal war against Mark Antony—a war hero still beloved by thousands of Roman veterans—he risked mutiny in his own ranks.
So Octavian executed one of the most brilliant propaganda pivots in political history. After illegally seizing Mark Antony’s private will from the Temple of the Vestal Virgins and reading aloud clauses in which Antony asked to be buried in Alexandria beside Cleopatra even if he died in Rome, Octavian blamed the entire crisis on the foreign Egyptian queen. Portraying Cleopatra as a sinister Eastern sorceress who had drugged a noble Roman general into abandoning his virtuous Roman wife (Octavian’s own sister, Octavia) and plotting to move the capital of the world from the Tiber to the Nile, Octavian went to the Temple of Bellona in late 32 BC and threw the ritual spear to declare war *solely against Queen Cleopatra of Egypt*—without ever mentioning Mark Antony’s name in the formal declaration. When Octavian’s admiral Agrippa outmaneuvered the combined fleet at the Battle of Actium in 31 BC and Octavian marched into Alexandria in August 30 BC, pushing both Antony and Cleopatra to suicide before having seventeen-year-old Caesarion strangled (“Too many Caesars is not good”), the narrative of the dangerous Egyptian seductress was carved into marble—masking the cold reality of Octavian’s relentless climb to become Emperor Augustus.
The recent Disney Shogun series reminded us of the West’s fascination with the major myth from Japan: the samurai. A proud knight, entirely devoted to his daimyo (lord). This myth was revealed to the West in the last third of the 19th century, with the country’s opening to foreigners, the wave of Japonisme, and the spread of works by Hokusai, the master of prints, the first to use the term “manga” in the sense of “derisory image” or “quick sketch”, where he would sometimes depict these warriors walking alone in magnificent landscapes.
It is no coincidence that George Lucas came to Akira Kurosawa’s aid, abandoned in Japan, to produce Kagemusha in 1979. His dark and stellar Darth Vader, who had conquered the world two years earlier, owed much to the samurai of the Japanese master and the warrior code – bushido – illustrated in Kurosawa’s films that young Lucas had admired during his studies.
This masterpiece, Kagemusha, opened with the famous Battle of Nagashino in 1575, which marked the twilight of an era lasting two and a half centuries, the same one traced by the Disney series. The wild time of civil wars, of clans sharing a fragmented medieval Japan.
Wild? Not quite. In a paradox typical of Japan’s complex history, it was marked by the simultaneous emergence of what, to Western eyes, embodies Japanese culture. First, ikebana, or the art of making flowers live, a composition invented before Buddhist altars as an offering.
It spread among these warlords to highlight their ceramics imported from China and their interiors already equipped with tatami mats and shojis, sliding paper-covered partitions. Then nô, also originating from religion, evolved into a theater of warrior gestures, while kabuki would become an urban and bourgeois theater in the 17th century, with civil peace restored. Finally, chanoyu, the tea ceremony, imported from China, was also a scene of political negotiations, one of whose masters was none other than Oda Nobunaga, the victor of the Battle of Nagashino.
When the Jesuits, following the Portuguese and the future Saint Francis Xavier, landed after 1550 on the island of Kyushu in the south of the Archipelago, they tried to decipher the rather obscure political system of this country: “The emperor, who has his own court, installed since the 5th century, son of the Sun goddess and the Moon lord, is a kind of pope who embodies spiritual power,” summarizes Julien Peltier. “In parallel, the shogun, established in the 12th century, is a weak king who establishes a military regime over a central third of the country. He is sometimes a great patron. Like little kings at the head of a fief or clan, the daimyo, the sword nobility, who share a community of values, often richer than the lords of the shogun’s court, divide the territory, feigning to recognize his sovereignty.”
Hierarchical Carnival
It is these daimyo and their clans who will battle each other, even threatening the shogun if one of them gains a lasting advantage. But in this incessant instability, which lasts until Nagashino and the end of the 16th century, the sacred existence of the emperor was never questioned by these warlords, suzerains with power over vassals, controlling territories sometimes as large as two or three French departments, who had often gotten rid of the shugo, the shogun’s local representative.
And the samurai? Their emergence, around the 9th-10th centuries, on the margins of the empire, especially in the east of the main island, results from the emperor’s failure to form a peasant infantry in the Chinese style, analyzes Julien Peltier. Employed by the shoguns, who imposed a military regime in the 12th century, and then by the daimyo, they would long embody the barbarian, the brute, in a still Sinocentric country with Confucian values.
It is very gradually that they would become civilized until, after 1603 and the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate, which remains peaceful until 1868, they became a kind of armed civil servants.
To this time of civil wars, marked by the construction of spectacular fortresses, sometimes magnificently decorated, also accompanied by an increase in production and international exchanges, historians have given the name “world upside down”.
For these upper warrior layers, the daimyo, “are incapable of maintaining themselves as a cohesive social group. Phenomena of social ascension or collapse are rapid and frequent. This hierarchical carnival also leads to the birth of autonomous villages, independent, free cities, grouped into leagues, compared to Italian cities of the Middle Ages.
Mastery of Firearms
Oda Nobunaga, the first to be able to reestablish a central state, was himself a small warlord, son of a daimyo, leader of the Oda clan, in the east of the country, near Nagoya. He burst onto the Japanese scene dramatically in 1560: with 3,000 men, he surprisingly defeated the powerful Imagawa house, which had assembled ten times more troops. It took him ten years to gain control of the central province of the country, Mino.
Called to help by the Ashikaga shogun, who had just been overthrown, he reinstated him in Kyoto, then deposed him, before fighting the famous Battle of Nagashino in 1575 against the last resisting clan, the Takeda clan: “A despised character, eccentric, almost mad, iconoclastic, Nobunaga is the first of the three unifiers, with Hideyoshi and Ieyasu, who would need three decades, until 1603, to reestablish a central authority,” summarizes Julien Peltier.
He relied on the mastery of firearms, arquebuses, which his infantrymen used in rolling fire, with several aligned ranks, devastating the samurai, equipped only with their swords. Imported by the Portuguese in 1543, but already smuggled in by Chinese pirates, the arquebuses were improved and manufactured by the Japanese, which deterred Europeans from invading their archipelago. Nobunaga also symbolizes openness to the outside world.
Moreover, with the Jesuits and their missions, a nanban culture emerged, influenced by Europe: Japan discovered bread, wine, geography, clocks, the organ and the viola, offered to Nobunaga, who positioned himself as a protector of craftsmen and merchants. He did not hesitate to burn down the country’s main temple, Enryakuji, to weaken religious forces.
His objective was to end the traditional shogunate, but he would not have time. Betrayed in 1582 by one of his treacherous generals, who surrounded him in a temple, he committed suicide there. Even during his lifetime, writes Souyri, he was already being worshipped. Even today, this extravagant lord, first founder of modern Japan, remains the source of inspiration for many novels and mangas.
Sakoku “Chained Country”
In 1635, thirty years after establishing civil peace, the third shogun of the Tokugawa dynasty ended the country’s open-door policy. As early as 1613, Christianity was banned in the archipelago. In 1635, Japanese people were no longer allowed to travel abroad, and those residing overseas, where they had founded colonies, were not permitted to return. After suppressing the Christian revolt in Shimabara in 1637, the Portuguese were expelled from Japan. The Dutch were tolerated. This policy, which would last until the end of the shogunate in 1868, was named sakoku, the “chained country”. Only a few windows remained open: Nagasaki (Deshima in 1804) for Holland and China; Tsushima Island for Korea; Satsuma on the Ryukyu Islands.
A view of Dejima in Nagasaki Bay. Credit: Public Domain
The Origin of Ninjas
Japan, always skilled at fabricating myths, transmitted this one to the world without documenting its reality. Who were these ninjas – “stealthy individuals” – in the brutal 16th century? Men of shadow and skill, sometimes former bandits, sometimes venerated notables, they were enlisted in lords’ wars to conduct infiltration and espionage operations.
Initially despised by samurai, scholars, and historians, they would gradually – as peace returned and they blended into the population – take on another, less dark and more entertaining figure, with a unique fighting technique bordering on magic.
Long before Christopher Columbus made landfall in the Caribbean in October 1492, the Western Hemisphere was home to tens of millions of people living across a vast network of empires, city states, and agricultural confederacies. Spanning two continents from the alluvial valleys of the Mississippi River to the high plateaus of the Andes, Pre-Columbian civilizations independently invented writing systems, calculated the movements of Venus with pinpoint mathematical accuracy, domesticated crops that now feed the modern world, and raised stone monuments rivaling the pyramids of the Old World.
The Olmec and the Dawn of Mesoamerican Civilization
Along the tropical Gulf Coast of modern Mexico in the states of Veracruz and Tabasco, the Olmec civilization flourished between 1500 BC and 400 BC as the foundational culture of Mesoamerica. Centered around ceremonial capitals such as San Lorenzo and La Venta, the Olmecs engineered earthen pyramids, complex basalt drainage aqueducts, and paved plazas. They are best remembered for carving seventeen colossal stone heads from single boulders of volcanic basalt transported over fifty miles from the Tuxtla Mountains, each weighing up to forty tons and depicting individual rulers wearing protective headgear.
The Olmec legacy established the cultural blueprint followed by nearly every subsequent Mesoamerican society. They developed the ritual Mesoamerican ballgame played on stone courts with solid vulcanized rubber balls, initiated bloodletting ceremonies, carved exquisite jade figurines, and laid the early foundations of the Long Count calendar and Mesoamerican hieroglyphic writing.
Teotihuacan and the Zapotecs of Monte Alban
While the Olmec world faded, highland Mexico witnessed the rise of urban metropolises on a monumental scale. In the Valley of Oaxaca, the Zapotec civilization leveled an entire mountain ridge around 500 BC to construct Monte Alban, an astronomical and administrative capital featuring carved stone slabs known as the Danzantes and early phonetic scripts. Further north in the Basin of Mexico, the city of Teotihuacan rose around 100 BC to become the sixth largest city in the world by 450 AD, housing an estimated one hundred and twenty five thousand residents from multiple ethnic groups.
Laid out along a strict grid anchored by the Avenue of the Dead, Teotihuacan was dominated by the Pyramid of the Sun, the Pyramid of the Moon, and the Temple of the Feathered Serpent.Controlling obsidian mines that supplied razor sharp volcanic glass tools across Central America, Teotihuacan exerted political and artistic influence all the way to the Maya lowlands of Guatemala before its ceremonial core was mysteriously burned and abandoned around the sixth or seventh century AD.
The Classic Maya: Mathematicians and Astronomers of the Rainforest
Stretching across the Yucatan Peninsula, Belize, Guatemala, and western Honduras, the Maya civilization reached its intellectual peak during the Classic Period between 250 AD and 900 AD. Unlike a single unified empire, the Maya world consisted of competing kingdoms—such as Tikal, Calakmul, Palenque, and Copan—ruled by divine kings known as k’uhul ajaw. Inside dense tropical forests where seasonal droughts posed constant challenges, Maya engineers constructed limestone reservoirs, raised agricultural causeways called sacbeob, and corbel vaulted palaces.
The Maya were the premier intellectuals of the Pre-Columbian Americas. They developed the only fully phonetic logosyllabic writing system in the Western Hemisphere, recording dynastic histories on stone stelae and bark paper codices. Crucially, Maya mathematicians independently invented the concept of positional zero centuries before its adoption in Europe, using a base twenty vigesimal system to predict solar eclipses and track the synodic cycles of Venus and Mars across millions of years.
The Aztec Empire and the Island Metropolis of Tenochtitlan
In the fourteenth century, a nomadic Nahuatl speaking people known as the Mexica migrated into the Valley of Mexico and founded their capital, Tenochtitlan, in 1325 on a marshy island in the middle of Lake Texcoco. Through a Triple Alliance with the neighboring cities of Texcoco and Tlacopan in 1428, the Aztecs forged a tribute empire spanning from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean, ruled by emperors such as Moctezuma II.
By 1519, Tenochtitlan had grown into a Venetian style metropolis of over two hundred thousand inhabitants, larger than Paris or Madrid at the time. Connected to the mainland by three wide stone causeways fitted with removable bridges and supplied with fresh spring water by a twin pipe aqueduct from Chapultepec, the city fed its population through chinampas—artificial floating agricultural islands anchored in the shallow lakebed by willow roots that yielded up to seven harvests of maize, beans, squash, and amaranth per year.
Andean Predecessors and the Inca Empire of Tawantinsuyu
South America possessed an equally ancient cradle of civilization that began with the coastal city of Caral in Peru around 3000 BC—contemporaneous with the Egyptian pyramids—followed by the Chavin, Nazca, Moche, Tiwanaku, and Wari cultures. In the fifteenth century, under the transformative leadership of Emperor Pachacuti, the Inca expanded outward from the highland valley of Cusco to unite these diverse Andean regions into Tawantinsuyu, the Realm of the Four Parts, the largest empire in the Pre-Columbian world.
Stretching over two thousand five hundred miles along the spine of the Andes from southern Colombia to central Chile, the Inca Empire functioned without wheeled vehicles, draft horses, currency, or a conventional written alphabet. Instead, Inca engineers unified vertical mountain climates through the Qhapaq Nan, a twenty five thousand mile network of stone paved mountain highways and braided grass suspension bridges navigated by relay runners called chasquis. They transformed steep mountain slopes into microclimatic agricultural terraces watered by stone channels, built earthquake resistant dry stone architecture at sites like Machu Picchu and Sacsayhuaman where multi-ton polygonal blocks fit together without mortar, and managed imperial taxation and census data using khipu—intricate bundles of knotted and dyed camelid cords that served as three dimensional binary and decimal calculators.
Cahokia and the Ancestral Puebloans of North America
North of the Rio Grande, complex Pre-Columbian societies adapted to vastly different ecological zones. In the arid Four Corners region of the American Southwest, the Ancestral Puebloans constructed monumental multi-story masonry Great Houses in Chaco Canyon between 850 AD and 1150 AD, aligning structures like Pueblo Bonito with the solar and lunar cycles before later carving the dramatic cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde into sandstone alcoves.
Meanwhile, along the fertile floodplains of the Mississippi River just across from modern Saint Louis, Missouri, the Mississippian culture built the metropolis of Cahokia. Reaching its zenith between 1050 AD and 1200 AD with a population rivaling twelfth-century London, Cahokia featured over one hundred earthen platform mounds arranged around vast public plazas and a solar calendar circle of wooden posts known as Woodhenge. At the heart of the city stood Monks Mound, a ten-story terraced earthen pyramid covering fourteen acres at its base—larger in footprint than the Great Pyramid of Giza—standing as enduring proof of the organizational scale of North America’s indigenous civilizations long before European contact.
The Roaring Twenties (Années folles) in France refer to the period between the 1920s and 1929, a decade marked by a spectacular economic recovery and significant cultural and intellectual fervor. Benefiting from international détente, French industry established itself on European markets, and living standards improved. Paris became a vibrant hub of literary and artistic creation. Traumatized by the painful experience of World War I, French society underwent a transformation, while a minority gave rise to the “Roaring Twenties,” a period emblematic of the desire to forget the war and seek entertainment.
France at the Dawn of the Roaring Twenties
On July 14, 1919, all of France celebrated victory, but at what cost? Although France was among the victorious powers of the war, the victory was Pyrrhic, and the nation now had to reckon with its losses. As early as December 1918, the Under-Secretary of State for War estimated the number of French combat deaths at 1,385,000. Out of the 8,660,000 men mobilized to fight under the French flag, more than 7 million survived. Yet, many died in the immediate aftermath of the war due to bronchitis, poorly treated wounds, and other causes. Others were war invalids, a constant reminder that victory came at a price. In fact, it is estimated that there were 25,000 amputees and 14,000 men with severe facial injuries, known as “gueules cassées.”
Demographically, France faced a problem it had not encountered in 1944. Unlike the post-World War II period, the aftermath of the First World War did not see a baby boom, destabilizing French demographics, which were already less dynamic than those of several other countries at the end of the 19th century.
The birth deficit caused by the war is estimated at 1,400,000. This human loss (the “hollow classes”) altered the age pyramid and led to an overall aging of the population. By the early 1920s, the proportion of people over sixty already exceeded 13.5%, one of the highest percentages in Europe.
Songwriters quipped, “Why do we have sixty-year-old politicians? Because the seventy-year-olds are dead!”
Legislatively, a law was passed on July 31, 1920, criminalizing abortion. Additionally, massive immigration was encouraged. In the 1920s, over a million immigrants came to France. While immigrants represented 2.7% of the population in 1911, they accounted for 6.96% by 1931. By then, France had become, “relative to its population, the world’s leading immigration country, ahead of the United States” (Ralph Schor).
Among this new wave of life-saving immigration, Poles were the most numerous, followed by groups from Mediterranean countries (Portugal, Italy). As a result, some northern cities (Paris, the north, and east of France were the regions with the highest immigrant populations) were almost entirely inhabited by Poles, such as the town of Ostricourt.
To this grim human toll was added a tragic material cost. The war affected ten French departments in the north and east, where the most significant damage occurred. Some cities were completely devastated, like Saint-Quentin. Architectural damage was extensive, symbolized by the destruction of Rouen Cathedral. Additionally, 450,000 houses were partially or completely destroyed, and 5,000 km of railways were rendered unusable. There is no doubt that France paid a heavy price for this war, which many hoped would be the “war to end all wars,” a price that also brought political changes.
From the National Bloc to the National Union
Josephine Baker, iconic figure of the Années folles. Credit: Public Domain, via Wikimedia
“Few periods in our history have retained such a negative image” (Jean-Jacques Becker and Serge Berstein) as the National Bloc. An alliance of the center and the right, the National Bloc came to power on November 16, 1919, following the legislative elections, the first since the war. A majority of the deputies were veterans, earning the Chamber the nickname “Chambre bleu horizon,” in reference to the color of French soldiers’ uniforms. Although Clemenceau might have hoped to become president, he was denied the position due to his anticlericalism and authoritarianism.
With the election of Paul Deschanel as President of the Republic in January 1920, France returned to a tradition that valued presidential discretion. The National Bloc governments prioritized foreign affairs, specifically securing peace, even though the war had ended. Since the Versailles Conference concluded on June 28, 1919, the focus was on finding solutions to prevent another war.
A peace-oriented organization, the League of Nations (LN), was established, though it showed its limitations by lacking an armed force. The LN was essentially formal, and some leaders could easily ignore formal condemnations unaccompanied by military threats. Nevertheless, the LN provided reassurance, which was crucial in the 1920s.
France, following the words of Finance Minister Lucien Klotz, hoped that “Germany will pay.” More than hope, France demanded it. Various commissions and plans aimed to determine the amount of war reparations owed by Germany. When Germany showed reluctance to pay, France decided to invade the Ruhr in 1923, an industrial region that would allow it to exploit coal resources.
However, France soon had to retreat under international pressure. Moreover, it was the international powers, primarily England and the United States, that blocked French demands, fearing the spread of revolution (which had already affected Germany and Russia after the war) in Germany. British and American leaders refused to see Germany on its knees, as France desired, because a financially and morally broken country would be more inclined to embrace revolutionary ideas. In short, reparations were consistently reduced, influenced by the work of several economists, most notably John Maynard Keynes (The Economic Consequences of the Peace).
Domestically, the left was shaken by a division that erupted during the congress held in Tours from December 25 to 30, 1920, which aimed to determine whether the French Section of the Workers’ International (SFIO) would join the Third International.
To do so, it had to accept 21 conditions. A majority of members (Marcel Cachin, Ludovic Oscar Frossard) accepted, while a minority (Paul Faure, Léon Blum, who preferred to “keep the old house”) refused. As a result, the French Section of the Communist International—the precursor to the French Communist Party (PCF)—was formed, comprising those who aligned with Moscow. Thus, the French left appeared divided. Similarly, the labor movement saw a split with the creation of the CGT-U (Unified General Confederation of Labor) in 1921.
The Left-Wing Cartel
The Elephant Celebes, Max Ernst 1921. The Tate, London.
In the 1924 legislative elections, the Left-Wing Cartel emerged victorious, an alliance of radicals and socialists, marking the end of the National Bloc. President of the Republic Alexandre Millerand resigned, and the Cartel proposed Paul Painlevé as his successor. However, it was the Senate President Gaston Doumergue who was ultimately chosen, sparking frustration within the Cartel, which had to accept the outcome. The Cartel’s policies were characterized by anti-clericalism (France closed its embassy in Rome) and efforts to replenish state finances. Indeed, France was struggling financially, with a significant deficit. This was the main challenge faced by Édouard Herriot, the Prime Minister, who, despite attempts to reduce the deficit, failed to do so. On July 21, 1926, the “Cartel experiment” came to an end.
The financiers and the Bank of France had prevailed over the Cartel. Raymond Poincaré, the architect of the Sacred Union of 1914 and former President of the Republic (elected in 1913), became the Cartel’s immediate successor. The period of the National Union, with Poincaré at the helm, appeared as a high point, contrasting sharply with the eras of the National Bloc and the Cartel. France regained confidence, the economy improved, and society began to embrace other cultures, gradually forgetting the war.
The Roaring Twenties: The Age of the Avant-Garde
Demographically weakened, French society underwent significant transformations. Rural society gradually lost ground to urban society. By 1931, for the first time in its history, France had more urban dwellers than rural inhabitants (though the definition of a “city” remained debatable—was the threshold of 2,000 inhabitants appropriate? What did it signify?). The beginnings of a mass culture began to emerge, foreshadowing the 1930s. The Roaring Twenties reflected a social decompression after the hardships of the war and the reconstruction period.
Cultural, artistic, and religious life flourished. Paris in the 1920s became the epicenter of Surrealism. Figures like André Breton, Philippe Soupault, Robert Desnos, and Paul Éluard, influenced by Freudianism, gave free rein to the expression of their unconscious. They practiced automatic writing, explored hypnosis, created perplexing objects, and in 1926 launched the game of the “exquisite corpse,” where participants randomly wrote words on small pieces of paper to form sentences.
Musical aesthetics were revitalized by Erik Satie, a witty and ironic figure close to the Surrealists, who became the “mascot” of Les Six (a group including Darius Milhaud, Arthur Honegger, Francis Poulenc, Georges Auric, Louis Durey, and Germaine Taillefer). Under the patronage of Jean Cocteau, these composers, though of very different temperaments, sought to react against musical Impressionism and the influence of Debussy (who died in 1918). They embraced polytonality and polyrhythm. Satie, a cabaret pianist who died in poverty in 1925, loved rhythmic audacities and pranks, giving his compositions humorous titles (True Flabby Preludes for a Dog; Three Pieces in the Shape of a Pear) and inserting unexpected notes to startle or amuse listeners. Maurice Ravel composed his famous Boléro in 1928, while Vincent d’Indy perpetuated the ideas of César Franck and taught composition until his death in 1931.
The Nouvelle Revue Française, centered around André Gide, thrived, while war literature (by authors like Roland Dorgelès, Henri Barbusse, and Joseph Kessel with L’Équipage) enjoyed great success. By the end of the decade, cinema saw the emergence of sound films, though France lagged a few years behind the United States. The French film industry faced challenges, less prosperous than during the Belle Époque, when it had dominated global markets.
A New Way of Life in France
Now, France faced increasingly strong competition from Hollywood, which had capitalized on World War I and benefited from a wave of Americanophilia that swept postwar France. The rise of music hall with stars like Joséphine Baker (marking the decline of the café-concert, emblematic of the Belle Époque), the adoption of American dances like the shimmy and especially the Charleston in the mid-1920s, and the growing enthusiasm for jazz and swing with artists like Louis Armstrong and Benny Goodman all reflected this trend. Musical stars such as Mistinguett (who performed at the Moulin Rouge), Fréhel, and Maurice Chevalier became increasingly popular, especially as radio ownership grew, reaching 500,000 receivers in France by 1925 (600,000 just two years later).
In the world of fashion, Coco Chanel emerged as an icon, while the Art Deco style dominated architecture and design. In print media, Le Petit Parisien, already the leading daily in 1914, continued to grow, with a daily circulation exceeding 1.5 million copies. The press diversified further, with the creation of sports, music, and other specialized newspapers.
Although the 1920s are often called the “Roaring Twenties,” it is clear that society was changing. However, the garçonne (flapper) remained a myth, and women were still largely expected to stay at home (in line with the pro-natalist policies of the early 1920s, which emphasized that a woman’s duty was to bear children for France). In this regard, the postwar period did little to change the status of women in France, and World War I did not emancipate them. Proof of this is that while women made up 37.7% of the active population in 1911, this figure had dropped to 35.5% by 1931.
The End of the Roaring Twenties
In reality, except in the cultural domain, where the era was exceptionally rich, the Roaring Twenties did not profoundly change French society, which remained rigid in its social structures (for example, women’s employment did not survive demobilization), still rooted in rural traditions and a culture of saving. Victorious in the Great War, France was haunted by the fear of another conflict and retreated into a visceral pacifism, which would weaken it in the face of rising totalitarian ideologies, particularly Nazism.
The 1929 crisis brought a brutal end to this second “Belle Époque.”
This date—1902—does not prominently feature in the history of Japan. Typically, the focus is on 1905, because it was then that the Japanese Empire inflicted its first military defeat on a white power, specifically Tsarist Russia, thereby becoming a rallying point for anti-colonial and independence movements from India to Egypt and the Middle East.
In his latest work, Le labyrinthe des égarés: L’Occident et ses adversaires (2023), Amin Maalouf noted that Japan was the first center of anti-Western sentiment in the 20th century. Indeed, 1905 marked a thunderclap in the global balance of power, foreshadowing a century in which the cards of hegemony would be reshuffled.
However, three years earlier, in 1902, Tokyo had already signed an equal treaty with London—the first of its kind between an Asian power and a Western nation, and moreover, with the leading power of the time. This was also a revolution, albeit one that went unnoticed, signaling the rise of Japan as it gradually took its place among the imperial powers.
In 1890, Prime Minister Aritomo requested a significant increase in military funding from the Lower House. At the time, Russia, the only Western nation bordering Japan, was completing the Trans-Siberian Railway in the Far East. Meanwhile, China, though weakened by unequal treaties, was persistently eyeing Korea.
Aritomo spoke of the “first lines of defense” for the empire—a siege-like vocabulary that barely concealed a desire to partake in the division of the Asian “cake.” “Devour to avoid being devoured” became the motto of this early imperialist Japan.
By the end of the 19th century, nearly all of Southeast Asia had fallen under colonial rule: Burma to Great Britain, Indochina to France, and the Philippines to the United States.
After the consolidation phase of the Meiji era, the power in Tokyo gave way to expansionist ambitions in 1894 by advancing into Korea, where it had placed its pawns for nearly twenty years. The Chinese, called upon for help by the Koreans, could only react to their detriment, as they were defeated by the Japanese, who had mobilized 250,000 men.
This success was seen as the victory of one civilization over another, specifically the “chanchan” (which can be translated as “Chinamen”) from Beijing. At the last moment, the Western powers dissuaded the Japanese from marching on Beijing.
The signed treaty, which granted them Taiwan and control over Korea, transformed them into a colonial power. In turn, they extracted a most-favored-nation clause from China. It took the triple intervention of France, Russia, and Germany for them to relinquish the Liaodong Peninsula, which is now part of China. This opposition was perceived in Japan as a humiliation.
Impressed Westerners
Nevertheless, their victory over China impressed the Westerners, particularly the British, who were betting on Japan to curb the ambitions of their rival in Asia, Russia. The Chinese had shown too much weakness to fulfill this role. Geopolitically, Japan was already serving as a shield for the West against Russia and China.
In 1899, when the Boxers rebelled in Beijing, it was the Japanese army that the British called upon to suppress them.
The Japanese army proved to be remarkably effective, so much so that the Japanese were invited to their first negotiation table concerning China in 1900. Faced with the Boer War in South Africa and preoccupied with its naval rivalry with Germany, England offloaded East Asia onto Japan, which was then in a position to sign the Anglo-Japanese Treaty in 1902. Its clauses ensured Japan the possibility of attacking in Asia without London hindering it and guaranteed it against a triple intervention.
Tokyo now had free rein, which allowed it to strike Russia when the latter halted the withdrawal of its troops from Manchuria.
Although Japan emerged militarily victorious from the conflict with St. Petersburg, it was economically weakened and sought the mediation of Washington, with whom relations had been excellent since the first exchanges in the 1860s. But the 1902 treaty paved the way for other agreements signed after this war with France, Russia, and the United States. Japan believed it could be considered a full-fledged member of the concert of great nations. On this point, it made a grave mistake.
Opium » Used for its soothing, sedative, dreamlike, and even divinatory properties, opium—whose most well-known derivatives include morphine, codeine, and semi-synthetic heroin—has fascinated humanity for over 5,000 years. Across millennia, the milky sap of the white poppy, Papaver somniferum, has been consumed in various ways: drunk, smoked, eaten, inhaled, absorbed through massage, and injected. Because it induces euphoria, relieves pain, reduces hunger and thirst, induces sleep, and dispels anxiety, it has always been regarded as a universal panacea.
Opium might have remained the “remedy of God” praised by American writer and drug expert Edward Brecher. But this psychoactive narcotic, rich in alkaloids, eventually became a scourge of humanity in the 19th century as the “black poison” spread in increasingly potent forms.
Ancient Cultivation
The history of opium dates back to the Neolithic era. The cultivation of the opium poppy is attested as early as 5200 BCE in northern Europe. More recent opium poppy seeds and capsules have also been found at pile-dwelling sites along the shores of Lake Neuchâtel. However, the geographical origin of the cultivated plant remains debated: it could be in the Mediterranean, Iran, or even Central Asia.
Initially, the poppy was likely grown as a food source for its oil and seeds.
By the late Neolithic period, its therapeutic and psychoactive properties were also exploited, as evidenced by the discovery of opium in bone remains and dental tartar at the Can Tintorer site in Catalonia. A Sumerian clay tablet from around 2100 BCE, found in Nippur, refers to it as the “plant of joy.”
The Egyptian Ebers Papyrus, dating to the 16th century BCE and one of the oldest known medical texts, includes a recipe to soothe children’s crying using “poppy capsules” and “wasp droppings.” By the 13th century BCE, Theban opium was renowned.
In Homer’s Odyssey, Helen is given a poppy-based drug, nepenthes, by the Egyptian Polydamna to ease pain, calm anger, and dissolve all sorrows. Hippocrates, the father of medicine, used opium as an analgesic, antidiarrheal, and soporific.
In the 1st century, Roman naturalist Pliny the Elder and pharmacologist Dioscorides described opium alongside other drugs like mandrake, belladonna, datura, hemlock, aconite, wine, and cannabis. During Nero‘s reign (54-68 CE), the narcotic gained popularity. Nero’s physician, Andromachus, is credited with creating the famous theriac, a potent antidote containing over fifty ingredients, including a significant dose of opium, which remained in use in various forms until the 20th century. Opium was freely accessible, with Rome boasting no fewer than 800 shops selling it by the 4th century. The cocetum, a poppy-based drink, was also prepared for young Roman women before marriage.
Lucrative Trade
Opium poppy. A plant of the white subspecies in natural. Size; B flower of the red subspecies, same; 1 pistil with stamens, same.; 2 stamens, enlarged from different sides; 3 pollen, seen under water, same; 4 stamps, of course. Size; 5 the same in cross-section, same.; 6 ripe fruit capsule, desgl.; 7 seeds, natural size and magnified; 8 the same in longitudinal section, enlarged; 9 the same in cross section, same.
Considered a simple medicine in the Byzantine Empire, opium later became a valuable commodity in the Arab spice trade, gradually spreading to India, Southeast Asia, and China. Used as a remedy and, notably, as an aphrodisiac, it entered imperial courts and began to be smoked, enhancing its psychoactive effects. By the 16th century, the precious “black perfume” was transported from Bengal by the Portuguese, followed by the Dutch from Java. The Dutch also introduced pipes, discovered in America, to China.
Highly interested in this lucrative trade, the British took over with Indian opium. Despite imperial edicts banning its import, they smuggled 40,000 chests of opium (2,400 tons) into China in 1838. When warned, Queen Victoria refused to comply. Lin Zexu, the commissioner of Canton, destroyed 23,700 chests and blockaded trading posts, sparking the First Opium War in 1839. The British secured the opening of five commercial ports and Hong Kong. A Second Opium War in 1856, involving France, led to the legalization of opium. This flood of imports into the Chinese market caused a surge in addiction.
It also gave rise to a “refined culture symbolized by the art of the opium den,” which inspired London’s smoking dens and contributed to the growth of American Chinatowns.
Poets’ Fascination
Europe, starting with Britain supplied by India, was not left out. By the late 18th century, recreational opium gained popularity in the form of laudanum, a highly addictive alcoholic tincture of opium invented in the 16th century by Swiss physician Paracelsus. Initially appealing to the gentry, this unregulated and inexpensive drink soon permeated the working class. Beloved by writers and popularized by Thomas de Quincey—who himself became addicted—it fueled the Romantic era. In France, the opium craze was more tied to Orientalist passion.
However, with the discovery of morphine in 1804 (used medically from the 1830s and popular among the aristocracy until the Belle Époque) and the synthesis of heroin from morphine in 1874, the “gift of the gods” turned into a global scourge. According to the latest WHO estimates, around 125,000 people died from opioid overdoses in 2019.
Nazis With its onion-domed steeple and octagonal towers, Hartheim Castle is a remarkable example of Renaissance architecture in Upper Austria, a region located west of Vienna. However, the estate has become a symbol of one of the darkest chapters in the country’s history, when it was transformed by the Nazis into a factory of death.
Since the late 19th century, the castle housed an institution for disabled people, managed by a Catholic organization. With the annexation of Austria by Germany in 1938, the facility fell into the hands of the Nazis, and by March 1940, the residents and caregivers were forced to leave and were relocated to other institutions.
A gas chamber was installed in the castle, making it one of the six “euthanasia” facilities of the Aktion T4 program, established in 1939: “It was a centrally organized assassination program, primarily targeting individuals with mental illnesses and disabilities. There was a standardized procedure in all six facilities: the gas chambers were disguised as shower rooms, and carbon monoxide was used to kill,” explains Florian Schwanninger, a historian at the Hartheim Memorial.
The victims were transported by bus from the care facilities where they resided and were executed immediately upon arrival. Their bodies were then burned in a crematorium. Between 1940 and 1941, 18,000 people suffering from mental illnesses or disabilities were gassed under the supervision of two doctors. This tragedy illustrates the findings of a study published last week in the British scientific journal The Lancet. It highlights the “central role” played by the medical profession in the crimes of the Nazis, noting that by 1945, 50 to 65% of non-Jewish German doctors had joined the Nazi Party—a proportion “significantly higher than in any other academic profession.”
Hartheim Nazi killing center, bus with driver, circa 1940. Credit: Wikimedia, CC BY-SA 3.0
Although the Aktion T4 program officially ended in 1941 following protests from parts of the population and the Church, the killings did not stop. Individuals with mental illnesses and disabilities were then murdered in care facilities, often through the use of drugs. From that point on, Hartheim was used to kill other groups, including sick or non-working concentration camp prisoners. Between 1941 and 1944, 12,000 people were gassed there, bringing the total death toll to 30,000.
A milliner in the city of Graz, she developed an illness in 1935: “She was diagnosed with what no doctor can explain today: juvenile insanity. We assume it was a form of schizophrenia,” says Raoul Narodoslavsky, her grandson. In January 1941, she was taken to Hartheim and murdered there. She left behind two children, including Raoul’s mother. Today, he strives to keep the memory of his grandmother alive—a woman he never knew and of whom he has only one photograph. He knows the history of Aktion T4 inside out and remains deeply angered by the involvement of the medical profession: “Hundreds of doctors compiled lists of ‘lives unworthy of life,’ and hundreds of nurses watched their patients starve in psychiatric institutions! They made such atrocities possible!
March 12, 1938: Anschluss, the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany
1939: Launch of the Aktion T4 program to assassinate individuals with mental illnesses or disabilities
May 1940: Start of the killings at Hartheim Castle
July 24, 1940: Establishment of the Am Spiegelgrund clinic
August 24, 1941: Official end of the Aktion T4 program, though killings continued in different forms
December 12, 1944: Dismantling of the killing center at Hartheim Castle begins
The murders at Hartheim and under the Aktion T4 program also played a significant role in the implementation of the Holocaust: “Many participants in this program later moved to occupied Poland after its conclusion to develop the extermination camps at Belzec, Sobibor, and Treblinka. The killings there followed the same pattern as in the Aktion T4 facilities,” explains Florian Schwanninger. Today, along with his team, the historian is working to identify the names of those murdered at Hartheim. Out of 30,000 victims, 23,000 have already been identified.
Medicine in the Service of Child Murder
Viktor Brack testifies in his defence at the Doctors’ Trial in Nuremberg in 1947. Credit: Public Domain
Today, as one strolls along the quiet, tree-lined paths of the Penzing Clinic in Vienna, it is difficult to imagine the scale of the tragedy that unfolded there eighty years ago. Yet, starting in 1940, a process of murdering children deemed unfit to develop was set in motion at the facility, then called Am Spiegelgrund. This was in line with Nazi doctrine, which advocated for the elimination of “lives unworthy of life” to “purify the Aryan race.” These crimes, carried out by doctors, led to the deaths of nearly 800 children.
Many of the children at this clinic had previously been in orphanages or foster homes. A significant number had mental disabilities, physical deformities, learning difficulties, or neurological disorders.
Upon arrival at the facility, the children underwent medical observation. Caregivers then classified them into different categories, which, in the eyes of the Nazis, reflected their ability to contribute to society and the potential cost they might impose on it. A diagnosis of “unfit for development” was tantamount to a death sentence: From the doctors’ perspective, this meant there was no prospect of improvement in the child’s condition, that they would have to live with their disability, and that they could not be expected to support themselves in the future.
Undernourished, the children lost weight and were at greater risk of developing infections. They were often killed with an overdose of Luminal, a barbiturate that disrupted blood flow to the lungs, making breathing difficult. Many death certificates from Spiegelgrund listed pneumonia as the cause of death.
The bodies were also used for experimentation: “One of the priorities was the study of neurological pathologies. For example, they sought to understand the various causes of what was then called ‘feeble-mindedness’: Was it due to a congenital anomaly or a hereditary disease? Examining the brain and other organs was therefore of great interest to the doctors.
However, the expert refuses to label this as “pseudoscience”: “This term has too often been used to suggest that it wasn’t a problem with science itself but merely the fault of individuals who had gone astray. Many Nazi doctors were fully recognized by the profession and sought to address questions that, at the time, appeared urgent and justified.
“I received and distributed the personal mail addressed to the Führer. Many women wrote to him passionately. Some had nothing better to do than write to him every week.” Until Adolf Hitler‘s suicide on April 30, 1945, in his Berlin bunker, his secretary Traudl Junge continued to receive love letters. Such female fascination for the mustachioed chancellor of the Reich might seem anecdotal. However, upon reading Hitler’s Furies, it becomes clear that this fascination reflects a broad approval among women for the Nazi regime, its expansionist policies, and its racial ideology.
In the popular imagery propagated by Nazi propaganda, German women of the Third Reich were portrayed as loving wives and robust mothers. As exemplary patriots, they replaced men fighting on the front lines, worked in fields or factories, served as nurses, and formed battalions of teachers and secretaries.
In the immediate post-war period, several trials of female camp guards, such as the “Hyena of Auschwitz” Irma Grese or the “Bitch of Buchenwald” Ilse Koch, shed light on shocking female participation in the genocide of Jews. However, these highly publicized and dramatized cases in cinema did not significantly tarnish the heroic image of the millions of German women who, considered victims of Nazism, suffered from war, hunger, and rape. These courageous women were even honored with statues for clearing the rubble of ruined cities.
Accomplices or Actors
Yet, as Professor Wendy Lower emphasizes, “the apoliticism of German women is part of post-war myths.” By July 1932, German women were already as likely as men to vote for the Nazi Party. “The entire female population of Germany (nearly 40 million in 1939) cannot be labeled as victims. A third, or 13 million women, actively joined organizations linked to the Nazi Party, and the number of female party members steadily increased until the end of the war,” she notes in a widely acclaimed study that has been translated into twenty languages and recently published in French.
Drawing on multiple sources—German war archives, Soviet investigations into Nazi war crimes, East German secret police files, trial records, Simon Wiesenthal archives, diaries, private correspondence, and testimonies—the researcher observes a massive participation of women as witnesses, accomplices, or active participants in the genocide of Jews, particularly in the Nazi-occupied territories of the East: Poland, Ukraine, Belarus, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia.
Colonization of the East
Based on official figures from the time, the historian estimates that half a million German women were deployed in the Eastern and Southeastern territories, including the Polish provinces annexed by Germany in 1939. Aged 17 to 30, often single, these representatives of the lower middle class enlisted out of patriotism, having already been recruited at 14 into the League of German Girls (Bund Deutscher Mädel) and heavily indoctrinated from primary school.
While they joined the vast colonization program of the East—Heinrich Himmler’s Generalplan Ost—they were also driven by ambition, as opportunities for advancement in Germany were limited. Whether they were nurses, teachers, resettlement advisors, secretaries, wives of SS officers, or camp guards, all played a role in the functioning and expansion of the Nazi destruction machine.
Racial Selection
Women’s participation in the Final Solution took many forms. For example, the 2,500 teachers sent to Poland, like young Ingelene Ivens on a “civilizing mission” in the remote village of Reichelsfelde, were required to report any children with disabilities to the authorities. “If a child couldn’t button their coat properly, had poor academic performance, or lacked coordination in sports or playground activities, they were subjected to a screening test,” the historian recounts. Non-German children were excluded from the school system, while German children in Poland were privileged but also indoctrinated.
Racial selection also involved sending “orphans” to Germany for adoption. These children were actually stolen from their parents before the latter were thrown into camps or murdered. Estimates suggest that between 50,000 and 200,000 children were abducted from the Eastern territories. Racial “hygiene” selection was even more systematic in hospitals, where the nursing profession had acquired “a deeply nationalist and ideological character.” To obtain the status of a certified nurse, one had to provide proof of Aryan ancestry and political reliability.
Crossing the Line
While some nurses turned out to be serial killers (see below), crossing the line into violence could occur in any profession. For instance, typist Gertrude Segel would shoot at her gardeners from her balcony for amusement. Erna Petri, the wife of an SS officer, cold-bloodedly murdered six children who had escaped a death train. As for the ambitious secretary Johanna Altvater, she had the “horrifying habit”—as one survivor put it—of luring Jewish children with sweets to kill them…
The secretaries and mistresses of SS-Gruppenführer Odilo Globocnik, who managed the loot stolen from Treblinka deportees, may have been less violent. “But they nonetheless contributed to the normalization of perversity,” comments Professor Wendy Lower.
They were convinced that the violence of their actions was justified as vengeful punishment against the enemies of the Reich. From their perspective, these acts were merely expressions of their loyalty. Given that none of these women were forced to kill, such an attitude is all the more staggering. The horror knows no bounds…
Arbitrary Violence
The SS female guards of concentration camps for women have been the subject of meticulous historical studies. In 1945, these guards represented a professional body of 3,508 members spread across 13 camps throughout Europe. Their training primarily took place at Ravensbrück camp. For these young women, averaging 26 years old and mostly from working-class backgrounds, this job offered attractive salary prospects and opportunities for advancement. They earned twice as much as a female armaments factory worker and, at least initially, enjoyed a level of comfort they had never known at home. The uniform made an impression, and the prospect of wielding power was not without its appeal.
Some of these guards had criminal pasts. However, their extreme brutality and arbitrary violence are better explained by the context of the camps: the guards were often understaffed and had to assert their authority despite social and cultural deficits. The most sadistic among them were eventually brought to justice. The “Hyena of Auschwitz,” Irma Grese, was sentenced to hang. And the “Bitch of Buchenwald,” Ilse Koch, wife of camp commander Karl Koch, ended her life in prison, committing suicide in 1967.
The Guardians of “Racial Hygiene”
“Of all the female professions engaged in the East, nursing was the deadliest. The genocidal operations planned by the central authority did not begin in the gas chambers of Auschwitz or on Ukrainian execution sites. They started in the hospitals of the Reich,” historian Wendy Lower reminds us.
The first victims were children. During the war, specially trained nurses administered overdoses of barbiturates or morphine to thousands of infants they deemed malformed, as well as to disabled adolescents. Meticulously following the Reich’s euthanasia program, some nurses participated in the selection and elimination of the mentally ill and disabled. They also worked in the infirmaries of concentration camps. They were among the first witnesses to the Final Solution.
In Poland, mass executions of patients began as early as September 1939. Mobile units traveled across the country, then through Ukraine, Belarus, and the Baltic states, killing thousands of patients in asylums and hospitals or gassing them in special trucks. According to Wendy Lower, “racial hygiene” was also secretly applied to severely mutilated German soldiers on the Eastern Front to “deliver them from their suffering.” Families were told they had died “in combat.”
When the aristocratic Roman senator Tacitus put down his stylus around 117 AD at the end of his Histories and Annals, the great classical tradition of Latin historical writing seemed to fall into a two-hundred-and-fifty-year slumber. Then, around the year 390 AD in the twilight of the fourth century—just decades before the Western Roman Empire collapsed—a retired Greek-speaking Roman army staff officer stepped forward in Rome to write a monumental thirty-one-book sequel to Tacitus in Latin: Ammianus Marcellinus. Widely hailed by Edward Gibbon and modern scholars alike as the last great historian of the ancient Roman world, Ammianus gave posterity a vivid, boots-on-the-ground eyewitness account of an empire fighting for its life from the deserts of Persia to the catastrophic battlefield of Adrianople.
A Greek Soldier Writing in Latin: The “Protector Domesticus”
Born around 330 AD into a prosperous, educated Greek family in the Syrian metropolis of Antioch, Ammianus Marcellinus proudly described himself in the closing line of his work as “miles quondam et Graecus”—”a former soldier and a Greek.” Around the age of twenty in the early 350s AD, under the reign of Emperor Constantius II (the son of Constantine the Great), Ammianus enlisted in the elite corps of the Protectores Domestici: an imperial officer-cadet guard unit made up of gentleman soldiers who served as confidential staff officers, couriers, and intelligence aides to the empire’s top generals.
Attached to the personal staff of Ursicinus, the Master of Cavalry in the East, Ammianus did not read about Roman warfare in a scroll; he lived it firsthand for over a decade:
Secret Missions and Narrow Escapes: In 355 AD, he accompanied Ursicinus across the Alps to Cologne in Gaul on a delicate clandestine mission to eliminate the rebellious Frankish general Silvanus, who had proclaimed himself emperor.
The Siege of Amida (359 AD): Sent back to the Mesopotamian frontier when the Sassanid Persian King Shapur II invaded with an army of a hundred thousand men and war elephants, Ammianus was scouting on horseback when Persian cavalry nearly captured him; riding for his life, he slipped inside the fortress city of Amida (modern Diyarbakır, Türkiye) minutes before the gates slammed shut. For seventy-three terrifying days, Ammianus fought on the walls under clouds of Persian arrows and plague until the city fell at night—escaping in the dark with two companions, stealing a stray horse on the road, and surviving debilitating thirst across the desert to reach Antioch alive.
Campaigning With Julian the Apostate in Persia (363 AD)
The towering tragic hero of Ammianus’s history was Emperor Julian (known to Christian writers as “Julian the Apostate”), the brilliant, ascetic philosopher-nephew of Constantine who ascended the throne in 361 AD and attempted to restore traditional Greco-Roman paganism across the empire.
Although Ammianus was himself a tolerant pagan who admired Julian’s courage, incorruptibility, and intellect—and personally marched alongside Julian during the Emperor’s massive 363 AD invasion of the Persian Empire all the way to the gates of Ctesiphon—Ammianus demonstrated why he was a master historian: he refused to write blind propaganda for his hero. When Julian enacted a petty law forbidding Christian professors from teaching classical Greek literature, Ammianus sharply condemned the decree as harsh and worthy of being buried in eternal silence. And when Julian burned his own river supply fleet on the Tigris and was fatally struck in the liver by a cavalry spear during a skirmish without wearing his breastplate, Ammianus chronicled the Emperor’s calm, philosophical deathbed speech in his tent alongside the humiliating territorial peace treaty signed by Julian’s successor, Jovian.
The Res Gestae and the Catastrophe of Adrianople (378 AD)
After retiring from the army and traveling through Egypt and Greece—where he personally witnessed the massive Mediterranean tsunami of July twenty-first, 365 AD, leaving behind a scientific description of the sea receding and returning that modern seismologists still use as a textbook model—Ammianus settled in the city of Rome in the 380s AD. Choosing to write in Latin rather than his native Greek so he could continue the narrative of Tacitus starting at the reign of Nerva in 96 AD, he composed the thirty-one books of his Res Gestae.
While the first thirteen books have been lost to time, the surviving eighteen books (Books 14 to 31, covering the critical twenty-five years from 353 to 378 AD) culminate in a breathtaking, unforgettable finale: Book 31, which provides our primary historical account of the arrival of the Huns from the Asian steppes, the desperate crossing of the Danube by the Visigothic refugees, the corrupt abuse of the starving Goths by greedy Roman officials who traded dog meat for Gothic children, and the apocalyptic Battle of Adrianople on August ninth, 378 AD—where Gothic cavalry annihilated two-thirds of the Eastern Roman field army and killed Emperor Valens on the field in the worst Roman military disaster since Cannae.
Combining a soldier’s eye for siege engines and logistics with biting satirical sketches of decadent fourth-century Roman senators who rode through the streets in silk robes surrounded by armies of kitchen slaves, Ammianus Marcellinus left humanity a priceless, fair-minded window into the final grand act of classical antiquity.
In the Modern Era, from the late 15th to the late 18th century, fishing activities were a fundamental concern for coastal populations. These activities could involve shoreline fishing for personal sustenance through a gathering economy or larger-scale fishing to earn money and accumulate significant capital. This capital could then be reinvested in other ventures, such as privateering, as seen with the people of Saint-Malo. Thus, in the modern era, fishing served as a means for coastal populations to maintain their status, develop, and even achieve wealth.
From Gathering to Small-Scale Fishing
To begin with, we analyze the gathering activities that predominated in coastal societies during the modern era. The collection of “fruits of the sea” was common among coastal populations. This term was used by Europeans to describe marine resources readily available on the shore. For example, people gathered seaweed, such as kelp, that was either washed ashore or harvested along the coasts of the Atlantic, the Channel, or the Mediterranean. Other natural materials were also collected, such as pebbles, sand, or rocks dislodged by storms and rough seas. However, from the 18th century onward, authorities began restricting these practices to prevent coastal erosion. For instance, Pampelonne Beach near Saint-Tropez was long used as a sand reservoir for construction across the Côte d’Azur; today, it is a protected and highly sought-after tourist destination.
“Fruits of the sea” were also sought after by small-scale shore fishers, who collected various products while walking along the coast. These included shellfish, oysters, mussels, cockles, and the like. This type of gathering primarily occurred in tidal zones, particularly along the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, the Channel, or the North Sea. During low tide, when the “foreshore” was exposed, gatherers would come to these areas to engage in their activities.
For instance, they might collect natural sponges, which were fished in Sardinia, Sicily, Tunisia, and Greek waters.
Another lucrative activity practiced by some was coral fishing. Coral, especially red coral, was highly valued in the Mediterranean and beyond, used in small quantities in pharmacology and extensively in jewelry and goldsmithing. During the modern era, red coral was often presented to notable visitors; for example, when Marie de’ Medici visited Marseille to marry King Henry, she was given a coral branch as a welcome gift.
Among all the marine resources mentioned, salt was the most significant. It was essential for both metabolism and food preservation. Sea salt was obtained using similar methods along the Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts: small dikes were constructed, creating “pans” where water was trapped and eventually evaporated to reveal salt. These systems existed in France, notably in Hyères on the Giens Peninsula, as well as in Guérande and Bourgneuf, and throughout Europe, including Venice and Setúbal.
Until the late Middle Ages, salt marshes were mainly operated by monasteries and feudal lords. However, starting in the 14th century, the state replaced these institutions and organized salt marsh exploitation for its own benefit. In France, the state sought to control salt production by introducing a tax on salt known as the “gabelle” during the Hundred Years’ War.
In all these cases, “shoreline fishing” was omnipresent. It involved fishing on foot, where people would go at low tide to collect shellfish, crustaceans, or small fish with bare hands or a net. It also included small-scale coastal fishing, conducted near the shore using fishing boats. Fishermen would leave the port in the morning and return in the evening, often before nightfall.
However, this type of coastal fishing developed later in western regions compared to the Mediterranean. Until the 15th century, people in western areas like Gascony, Normandy, Brittany, and Flanders hesitated to venture far from the coast due to fears of the “kingdom of the dead,” a context of “repulsion” from the sea.
Offshore and Deep-Sea Fishing
Offshore fishing involved staying away from the coast for several days. In the Mediterranean, this included bluefin tuna fishing using nets. In northwest Europe, it primarily involved herring fishing, a specialty of the Dutch during the modern era. According to historian Alain Cabantous, the Dutch even became a “herring civilization.” However, in the 17th century, herring prices declined, making it a symbol of popular consumption. Preservation techniques improved, allowing the fish to be cleaned, gutted, and packed in barrels onboard or smoked or preserved in jars with water and white vinegar.
Today, herring remains widely fished and consumed in this part of Europe and is symbolically celebrated during popular festivals, such as the maritime carnivals in Dunkirk, Douai, Dieppe, Calais, and Boulogne-sur-Mer.
Deep-sea fishing, mainly practiced near Newfoundland by Saint-Malo fishers, was the most prestigious type of fishing. It generated enormous fortunes, as seen with the fishermen of Saint-Malo, who reinvested their earnings in privateering. Some corsairs used the money earned from cod fishing to arm privateer ships, capture galleons, and further their fortunes.
Deep-sea fishing involved leaving the home port for several weeks to fish in the high seas. Newfoundland’s fishing grounds were frequented and explored from the early 16th century when Europeans searched for a northern passage around the Americas. The most sought-after fish in this area was cod. Norwegian fishers from Bergen were the first to target this species, much larger than the herring favored by the Dutch.
Soon, these Scandinavians were imitated by other European cod fishers, notably the English and French. As a result, Newfoundland became a political hotspot and a focal point of international relations among European states. For instance, after the War of the Spanish Succession, the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 required France to cede much of Newfoundland to the English.
However, France retained a few small islands, such as Saint-Pierre and Miquelon, enabling continued deep-sea fishing activities.
Cod caught for European consumption was prepared in two ways: salted and dried onshore (known as “codfish” or “bacalhau”) or preserved onboard in brine (known as “green cod”). The latter required less preparation but had a shorter shelf life. These techniques illustrate the innovative methods fishermen employed to optimize their yields.
The Regency (1715-1723) refers to the minority period of Louis XV during which power was exercised by the prince of royal blood Philippe II, Duke of Orléans (Philippe d’Orléans). Upon Louis XIV’s death, the Grand Siècle came to an end. France, exhausted by twelve years of war, had as its new king Louis XV, a five-year-old child. The new Regent would pursue a policy of reaction against the absolutism established by Louis XIV. After the twilight and austere end of the Sun King’s reign, a new period of balls and festivities began. The new Regent attempted in vain to restore the finances depleted by previous wars but could not avoid Law’s bankruptcy and sought alliance with England.
Regency and Contestation of Louis XIV’s Will
The end of Louis XIV’s reign was marked by a series of successive deaths. The death of the Grand Dauphin in 1711, followed the next year by that of his son, the Duke of Burgundy, pushed the king to legitimize his illegitimate children. At his death, he had only one direct heir left, his great-grandson, aged only five. Louis XIV had settled in his will the problem of the inevitable Regency. It rightfully belonged to his closest relative, his nephew Philippe, Duke of Orléans, son of Monsieur Philippe II, Duke of Orléans, the king’s brother, and his second wife, the Princess Palatine.
But the king hardly liked this too brilliant nephew whose irreligion and cynicism he feared and whom he reproached for being a “braggart of crime.” Thus, he had organized a Regency Council, placed under Philippe II, Duke of Orléans’ presidency, and had decided to give the guardianship of the future Louis XV to the Duke of Maine, his legitimized bastard born from his affair with Madame de Montespan. This will, dated August 2, 1714, had been delivered to parliament on August 26 and walled up in a tower of the Palace of Justice. Two codicils had further reinforced the Duke of Maine’s powers.
Upon Louis XIV’s death, a tide of courtiers rushed to the Duke of Orléans, but they had to wait for the will’s opening. On September 2, the document was read aloud by a parliament counselor. According to Saint-Simon’s words, the Duke of Maine was “bursting with joy” when Philippe spoke up to protest against the prejudice done to him. The game was actually played in advance with magistrates favorable to the Duke of Orléans. The compliant parliament simply annulled the will. In exchange, it was restored the right of remonstrance suppressed for sixty years: such was the price Philippe II, Duke of Orléans paid for his right to the regency.
Philippe II, Duke of Orléans: The Regent
The new regent’s victory was total, with the Duke of Maine not even retaining custody of the royal child. The latter, with his governess Madame de Ventadour, left Versailles on September 9 and crossed Paris by carriage under the crowd’s acclamations, before settling at the Château de Vincennes. The same day, Louis XIV’s mortal remains were buried at Saint-Denis. To confirm Philippe II, Duke of Orléans’ regency, the little king still needed to hold a lit de justice, and on September 12, 1715, the child, before all parliamentarians, had his uncle proclaimed regent of the kingdom. The Orléans had won victory over the legitimized ones.
Born in 1674, the new Regent had reached his forties in 1714 and was attractive for his beauty, intelligence, and culture. He had Abbé Dubois as his tutor, who had known how to develop the talents of a student equally gifted in arts and sciences. In 1692, the young prince had been married, by the king’s order, to Mademoiselle de Blois, Louis XIV’s legitimized daughter with Madame de Montespan. In 1707, he had fought in Spain, then distinguished himself at Lérida. Following various intrigues, he had been kept away from the armies and the Court, where he was viewed without sympathy, and had lived in retirement. He was mainly interested in painting, chemistry, and even alchemy, while seeking less innocent distractions.
The “small suppers” at the Palais-Royal, where Philippe II, Duke of Orléans resided, gathered merry companies whose libertinage reacted against the Court’s morose etiquette. The prince’s scandalous reputation had earned him accusations of sorcery and even of poisoning the Dukes of Burgundy and Brittany. But Louis XIV himself, despite his little affection for his nephew, had rejected these calumnies. The new regent’s undeniable qualities were unfortunately masked by his natural nonchalance and the disastrous influence of his friends.
The Polysynody
Portrait of Philippe II, Duke of Orléans (1674-1723) then the “Regent of France” with the sash of the Order of the Holy Spirit, wearing armour. Credit: Public Domain
The eight years of the Regency appeared as a reaction against everything that had characterized the end of the previous reign. After the severity that had been the rule in Louis XIV’s final years, the aristocracy threw itself unreservedly into a life of pleasures. The Regent’s companions, the “roués,” so named because they were deemed worthy of being tortured on the wheel, set the tone for this unbridled license through which the French avenged themselves for too long imposed austerity. “Long live the time of the lovely Regency,” wrote a contemporary, “when everything was done, except penance.” In reality, only high society was seized by this thirst for pleasures, but its scandalous reputation remained attached to the name of Regency, synonymous with debauchery and corruption.
The same reaction manifested in the politics followed by Philippe II, Duke of Orléans from the first days of the Regency, for, inspired by Fénelon and Saint-Simon’s ideas, this liberal prince with advanced ideas wanted to break ministerial absolutism. “He loved liberty greatly and as much for others as for himself,” said his friend Saint-Simon. Louis XIV had systematically evicted great lords from government councils, and the Regent wanted to give them back a predominant place in the country.
Mainly at Saint-Simon’s instigation, he replaced the ministers with eight councils of ten members, composed of great lords and State counselors: besides the Regency Council, there was the Council of Conscience, in charge of religious affairs and presided over by Cardinal de Noailles, the Council of Internal Affairs which, under the Duke d’Antin’s authority, presided over provincial administrative questions, the Council of Foreign Affairs, presided over by Marshal d’Huxelles, the War Council, entrusted to Marshal de Villars, the Marine Council, placed under Count of Toulouse’s command, the Finance Council, directed by the Duke of Noailles, finally the Commerce Council, placed under Duke de La Force’s high hand.
These councils were to prepare files that were then submitted to the Regent. This system was given the Greek name “polysynody.” In fact, by seeking the support of nobility and all political forces likely to support him, Philippe II, Duke of Orléans was trying to ensure the succession to the throne, in case of young Louis XV’s premature death. The Regent also created a Chamber of Justice, or Burning Chamber, charged with judging those who had enriched themselves at the State’s expense, and opened prison doors to Protestants and Jansenists unjustly incarcerated during Louis XIV’s reign.
The polysynody regime was not destined to last. Already the appointment of counselors had provoked violent competitions in the aristocracy. Then council meetings got lost in obscure precedence quarrels and it became evident that this hundred-headed ministry could not do useful work. As early as August 1718, Abbé Dubois condemned these Fenelonian reveries and councils ceased to meet. The Regent was forced to return to Louis XIV’s reign’s administrative organization and restored the ministers. Similarly, he was forced to show authority towards the too turbulent parliament, and had to exile it to Pontoise in 1720.
The Reversal of Alliances
The Regent had also understood that after so many years of war, the country needed peace. Fearing Philip V of Spain’s ambitions, who, despite treaties, had not renounced his rights to the French crown, he turned to England, whose regime and ideas he appreciated. On his order, Abbé Dubois – “a rascal,” according to the vindictive Saint-Simon – went to negotiate with Stanhope, King George’s minister, an alliance to which Holland and Austria soon after adhered.
This diplomatic about-face could not please Spain. To counter the Regent, Philip V’s ambassador, Prince of Cellamare, sought support in France. He found it at the Château de Sceaux, with the Duke and Duchess of Maine. Granddaughter of the Great Condé, this princess – nicknamed “the blood doll” due to her small size and childish ideas – was still ulcerated by the affront her husband had suffered, having been evicted by parliament during the opening of Louis XIV’s will. A plot was set up at Sceaux in 1718 to kidnap the Duke of Orléans and entrust the regency to Philip V, who delegated his powers to the Duke of Maine. But the affair was discovered by Dubois, the conspirators imprisoned in the Bastille, and Prince of Cellamare asked to return to Madrid.
These events obviously did not ease Franco-Spanish tension. War became inevitable. While Spain opened hostilities against Austria, a French army, commanded by Marshal de Berwick, a veteran of Louis XIV’s armies, crossed the Bidassoa. Spain had to suffer an uninterrupted succession of setbacks: burning of Pasajes and Santona arsenals, captures of Fuenterrabía and San Sebastián. Philip V soon after asked for peace and adhered to the Quadruple Alliance. To seal the reconciliation, it was decided that Louis XV would marry the Infanta Marie-Anne Victoire, then aged three and whose education would be done in France. Saint-Simon went to Madrid to fetch the little girl, whom the little king welcomed with total indifference.
Louis XV was a withdrawn and secretive child, who moreover showed much affection for his uncle.
After being raised with solicitude by his governess, Madame de Ventadour, who had managed to keep him alive despite fragile health, he had been entrusted in 1717 to old Marshal de Villeroy. The little king poorly appreciated the remonstrances of this vain courtier, whom he nicknamed “the old rambler.” As for his education, it was provided by the future Cardinal de Fleury, who, despite accusations of softness and incompetence brought against him by Saint-Simon and Voltaire, managed to give his royal student good knowledge in Latin, grammar, geography, and mathematics.
An Economy in Distress
Diplomatic questions seemed less difficult to resolve than financial problems, which were dramatic following the enormous expenses engaged by Louis XIV at the end of his reign for territorial defense. The public debt of three billion livres represented nearly a third of France’s national fortune, not forgetting the 86 million that were annually necessary to cover its interest. Compared to these figures, that of the kingdom’s revenue budget – 75 million livres – appeared all the more derisory as the expenditure budget reached 140 million livres. Only energetic measures could still avoid a catastrophe and resort to bankruptcy.
Advised by two bankers, the Paris brothers, the Regent resolved to strike hard and fast, and this by three means: the “visa,” the recoinage, and the merciless pursuit of the most important traffickers who, by public notoriety, had largely contributed to impoverishing the Treasury. The “visa” obliged security holders to have them endorsed by the State, which imposed others in exchange. 600 million were declared, which the State replaced with new securities worth a total of 200 million. The debt was thus reduced by 400 million. At the same time, the currency was “recast” following a revaluation of gold.
Finally, the Burning Chamber, installed at the Grands Augustins, constituted by thirty counselors to the Paris parliament, was instituted to examine the origin of fortunes made during the wars. Operating for more than twelve months, it pronounced 1,500 convictions. Some traffickers, besides heavy fines, were sent for life to the king’s galleys, others exposed in shirts at the pillory, in front of Notre-Dame de Paris or at the Grande Halle. A placard, bearing in large characters “thief of the people,” attached to their chest, excited against them the crowd’s hatred and anger.
The convictions had covered the restitution to the State of 200 million livres. However, only 70 million could be recovered, of which barely 15 actually returned to the Treasury’s coffers. This enormous operation ultimately resulted in failure. As early as 1718, the Regent gave up the Burning Chamber, restoring the general controller of Finances and the four Secretaries of State. Money was still as cruelly lacking; public debt had barely decreased by a third.
The Law System and Financial Bankruptcy
In 1717, royal revenues covered current expenses but did not allow for repayment of the very heavy public debt. The Regent then placed his hopes in John Law. This Scotsman established in Paris had developed theoretical thinking about monetary circulation: he particularly aimed at eliminating metallic currency.
Prosperity relied on multiplying monetary symbols, which only significant paper money issuance could make possible.
In October 1715, his state bank project was rejected under pressure from finance circles, who feared being bypassed. Law founded a private bank to facilitate exchanges; its notes were widely distributed. To give his action a commercial base, he took control of the Company of the West, which operated in Louisiana. On December 4, 1718, his bank became royal, and in 1719, the Company extended its influence to all long-distance trade. Law finally took control of tax collection and became Controller General of Finances in January 1720 when the bank and Company merged.
Debt amortization was achieved through massive issues of Company shares, which were subject to terrible speculation as high profits were promised. Eventually, the shares were meant to become real currency, backed by the country’s trade and labor. But weak dividends, limits on commercial growth, and the violent response from the monarchy’s traditional financiers, whom the System condemned, led to a reversal. Above all, the project suffered from a major contradiction: in a society attached to metallic currency, convertibility had to be maintained to acclimatize a widely distributed note that led to metal demonetization, thus to non-convertibility.
Massive redemptions in specie created panic. The System collapsed, and Law was forced to flee in 1720.
France During the Regency
The French had other concerns besides speculators’ setbacks. In 1720, after a ship from Syria docked, a serious plague epidemic hit Marseille, then spread to Toulon and the south of the country, reaching Toulouse and Limousin. Shortly after, a terrible fire devastated Rennes, causing nearly a thousand casualties.
At this time, life was often difficult for city dwellers. The number of beggars increased, and crime was rising. The bandit Cartouche was gaining followers. While many bourgeois managed to get rich, most workers and artisans suffered from price increases that coincided with speculation fever.
In the countryside, peasants’ lifestyles varied according to soil fertility and their status as farmers, sharecroppers, or simple agricultural workers, but overall, barely a third of farmers lived in relative comfort.
Three-quarters of the rural population could neither read nor write. The destitute were outraged by the luxury of the privileged, especially the Court’s debauchery. The “orgies” at the Palais-Royal were gossiped about, often amplified by imitators. While many bourgeois managed to get rich, most workers and artisans suffered from price increases that coincided with speculation fever.
In the countryside, peasants’ lifestyles varied according to soil fertility and their status as farmers, sharecroppers, or simple agricultural workers, but overall, barely a third of farmers lived in relative comfort. Three-quarters of the rural population could neither read nor write. The destitute were outraged by the luxury of the privileged, especially the Court’s debauchery. The “orgies” at the Palais-Royal were gossiped about, often amplified by the Henriade (1723), under the title Poem of the League, after having great success with the tragedy Oedipus.
In the arts, Largillière and Rigaud were still at the height of glory, but Watteau, the painter of “gallant festivities,” had broken with the severity of the grand century, awaiting a Lancret or a Boucher. A more flexible taste was then marked in interiors. Furniture became lighter in boudoirs, which were decorated with “monkey scenes” and “chinoiserie.” Some great collectors, like Pierre Crozat, encouraged artists. Among the patrons was the Regent himself, who had assembled dazzling galleries at the Palais-Royal.
End of the Regency and Death of Philippe II, Duke of Orléans
In 1722, tired of the criticism he received in Paris following Law’s bankruptcy, the Duke of Orléans decided to move the Court to Versailles: this departure delighted Louis XV. The young king was always on excellent terms with his uncle, whose affection he felt. From the age of ten, he had been invited to attend the Regency Council. On October 25, 1722, the royal child went, according to tradition, to be solemnly crowned at Reims. Very handsome in his white satin costume and purple velvet mantle, Louis the Well-Beloved deserved the nickname given to him. A few months later, on February 16, 1723, his majority was proclaimed.
A thirteen-year-old king could not govern: he asked his uncle to continue managing the kingdom’s affairs. The Regency Council was simply substituted by the High Council, and Dubois, made cardinal due to services rendered to the Regent, was officially confirmed in his position as Prime Minister. The new cardinal was then seriously ill: he died the following August (1723), and the Duke of Orléans in turn took the title of Prime Minister.
The former Regent felt very tired himself. He had lived much and continued, despite three successive strokes, to lead a merry life — which did not prevent him from working tirelessly on State affairs. Death took him suddenly, on December 2, 1723, in his office at Versailles, in the presence of his friend, the Duchess of Falari. He was sincerely mourned by the king, as well as by foreign courts who had admired his spirit of conciliation and his clairvoyance. With the Regent’s death, an era was over and Louis XV’s reign truly began.
The last major outbreak of the plague in Europe occurred in 1720 and is known as the “Plague of Marseille.” It claimed 40,000 lives out of the 75,000 inhabitants of the Phocean city, which was experiencing its twentieth epidemic of this disease since antiquity. In the 15th century, the city was struck nine times. In the 17th century, thanks to the efforts of Cardinal Richelieu and later Louis XIV, suspicious ships were barred from docking, port authorities were vigilant, and sanitary certificates were required before docking. Based on these documents, quarantines were imposed when necessary. However, under the Regency and its relaxed attitudes, the situation changed drastically.
How Did the Plague Reach Marseille in 1720?
On May 14, 1720, a Dutch merchant ship, the Grand Saint Antoine, approached one of the islets of the Frioul archipelago near Marseille. It carried precious fabrics and bales of cotton worth 100,000 écus from Asia. According to some accounts, the ship had departed from Seyde on January 31 and stopped at ports where the plague was active, such as Damascus. In Tripoli, after a storm damaged the sails, it replaced them with those from a vessel whose crew had died of the plague. Others claim the ship had “clean bills of health,” certified by non-infected ports.
Despite these claims, deaths occurred on board: a passenger, seven sailors, and the ship’s surgeon. Aware of the severity of the illness, the captain stopped in Livorno to obtain a diagnostic certificate from Italian authorities mentioning “malignant pestilential fever” before docking in Marseille. Another sailor died on May 27.
The ship’s cargo, owned by Captain Chataud and notable citizens of Marseille, including Alderman Estelle, was unloaded within just four days to be sold quickly at the Beaucaire markets. Normally, suspicious ships were rigorously inspected and quarantined. Although slightly concerned, the authorities imposed only a light quarantine on the Grand Saint Antoine at the island of Jarre, releasing the sailors after just 20 days. By then, the plague had already infiltrated the city’s streets.
First Victims of the 1720 Plague
On June 20, a 58-year-old washerwoman collapsed in a street with a bubo near her lip. On June 28, a tailor and his wife in the same neighborhood died, followed by another woman on July 1 with a sore on her nose. The first victims had come into contact with the infected cargo; the plague-carrying fleas were in the folds of the fabrics. A rat flea bite led to septicemia, killing the patient within three days.
The disease spread rapidly, with one or two deaths daily in the overcrowded city, where hygiene was appalling. By July 9, doctors suspected the plague when they discovered a 13-year-old boy infected and informed the authorities. Guards were stationed outside the boy’s house, but the municipality tried to conceal the deaths to prevent disrupting commerce. From that moment, the disease was acknowledged as the plague—the bacterium was later named Yersinia pestis in 1894, after researcher Alexandre Yersin.
Whole neighborhoods were affected when Dr. Peyssonel, one of the city’s physicians, warned the aldermen on July 18 that the danger was imminent. On July 23, 14 people died in a single street. The terrified population began to realize the plague’s presence, but authorities merely stationed guards at infected streets, relocating sick families under the cover of night.
Dr. Peyssonel alerted neighboring towns, prompting swift reactions. Trade and travel with Marseille were banned, and across Languedoc, Provence, and as far as Rodez and Toulouse, individuals from Provence were quarantined. Goods were aired for 40 days, and travel required health certificates. Letters from Marseille and nearby areas had to be disinfected in the presence of local consuls.
Plague Peaks
By July 30, there were 40 deaths daily. On August 9, the toll rose to 100. By August 15, it reached 300, and on August 30, 1,000 daily deaths were recorded. The city ran out of space for corpses. The finest promenade, the Cours, was overrun by the sick. Forced laborers, or “corbeaux,” collected bodies for burial in mass graves. With no laborers left, the municipality conscripted convicts to transport corpses, but even they succumbed within six days.
The heat worsened the situation, as decaying bodies produced a nauseating stench.
Burial pits were covered with lime and earth, and churches opened their crypts for the deceased. Eventually, infected houses were fumigated, and bodies were incinerated. Helpers wore the iconic plague doctor costume designed by Dr. De Lorme, featuring a beaked mask stuffed with aromatic herbs, leather boots, gloves, and a protective coat.
A City in Crisis
By mid-September, Marseille was sealed off, and letters, fabrics, and the Grand Saint Antoine were burned on Jarre Island on September 26. However, the plague had already spread inland to Provence and Languedoc. On September 21, 400 deaths were recorded. Prominent individuals, such as the Chevalier Roze and Bishop Belsunce, worked tirelessly, risking their lives to help the sick, bury the dead, and provide spiritual support.
The epidemic left a profound mark on Marseille, remembered as one of Europe’s last devastating outbreaks of the plague.
Toward the End of Misery
At the end of September 1720, a few poor individuals, leaning on sticks nicknamed “the sticks of Saint Roch,” wandered the streets in search of food. These people had survived the plague. From their accounts, it was concluded that one does not catch the plague twice. Meanwhile, residents began returning to Marseille, only to be astonished by a deserted and nearly lifeless city.
The death toll began to decline from October 1. Beggars were sent to La Charité hospital, which became specialized in treating the plague. On November 1, 1720, Bishop Belsunce placed the city under the protection of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, celebrating a Mass with a procession and the offering of a candle bearing the city’s coat of arms. By November 30, the daily death toll had dropped to just two to five people.
In response, the Papal States constructed the Plague Wall in Vaucluse (near Gordes and Murs) to protect the Comtat Venaissin. This dry-stone wall stretched 27 kilometers.
In March 1721, another wall was built, guarded by French troops, to protect surrounding territories. This second wall, spanning between the Durance River and Mont Ventoux, prevented any interaction between the Comtat Venaissin and the Dauphiné, which had not yet been affected.
Following Years
By February 1721, the plague had subsided in Marseille. However, the disease spread to Toulon and Aix-en-Provence. Strangely, in March-April of the same year, cases reappeared in Marseille, causing around 250 deaths. These cases, though, were less contagious and were considered relapses.
The city authorities acted swiftly. They closed the city gates and built two hospitals—one for the wealthy and one for the poor, the latter funded by the city. The epidemic was contained, and life slowly returned to normal. Survivors emerged, happy to reunite and resume their lives.
In June, however, another twenty people were struck by the disease. Physicians reassured the public and implemented procedures. Each neighborhood was assigned a commissioner with workers tasked with cleaning infected houses marked by red crosses.
After disposing of all belongings, three fumigations were carried out: one with aromatic herbs, another with gunpowder, and the last with arsenic and other substances. Finally, one or two layers of lime were applied to the walls and floors.
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The issue of disinfecting ships arose as well, requiring cargo to be sent to nearby islands. Churches, where bodies had been stored in crypts, had their doors sealed and all joints cemented. The last task in eradicating the plague was to recover stolen goods. When residents fled their homes, thieves often took advantage of the situation. Extensive searches were conducted, and the community worked together to restore peace and normalcy.
Toll of the 1720 Plague in Marseille
Marseille’s population, which was about 90,000 at the start of 1720, was halved: 40,000 people died in the city, and another 10,000 in the surrounding areas. In total, 120,000 deaths were recorded in southeastern France.
Captain Chataud, blamed for causing the disaster, was accused of deception and imprisoned. On September 8, 1720, he was sent to Château d’If, charged with “violating health ordinances, making false declarations, allowing goods to enter before proper quarantine, and facilitating the escape of a crew member during quarantine.” On April 7, 1721, he was transferred to the royal prisons of the Admiralty. Forgotten until July 8, 1723, he was finally declared “beyond prosecution” and released on August 3.
In 1802, a statue of Bishop Belsunce was erected on the Cours, later moved to the forecourt of the Cathédrale de la Major. Streets in the city bear the names of the city aldermen, and a commemorative plaque honoring them is displayed in the Museum of the History of Marseille.
