Fifty Things You Need to Know About World History

The third of man’s aspirations has been for Religion – the story of his continuing hope that his life has more lasting value than the one he spends on earth. This theme is used to describe the spread of the world’s religions and their heritage.

The fourth part of the book is about Conquest – the story of man’s appetite for expansion and territorial gain. This is all about the rise and fall of great empires, from the ancient world to the present day.

The fifth aspiration is Discovery – the story of man’s hunger to find and invent new things in the world around him in science and the arts. Here, some of the great inventions that have changed the nature of the world sit side by side with the achievements in exploration that improved our knowledge and understanding of it.

Inevitably there are times when these themes overlap, as the paths through our past crisscross one another. Religion was sometimes man’s motive for conquest; conquest was often carried out in search of wealth and so on. The Spanish conquest of South America in the sixteenth century is a good example. The conquistadors were motivated by both religious conviction and a desire for riches and their story might have been included in more than one place.

A good history book should be a companion as well as a teacher. It should help people understand as well as simply learn. From understanding comes confidence and hope, two feelings that sometimes seem in rather short supply in the world today. So if history can help us understand perhaps it can also help to inspire. And why not? After all, the world is ours: we owe it to ourselves to enjoy it.

1 Wealth (#u144179df-4FFF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)

Introduction (#u144179df-4FFF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)

Most of the children described in Hilaire Belloc’s Cautionary Verses come to a sticky end. Matilda, who lies, is burned to death; Henry King, who chews string, dies from knots in his stomach; and Godolphin Horne, who is excruciatingly superior, becomes a bootblack at the Savoy. Only one child is saved from misfortune – the obsequiously good, horribly nice Charles Augustus Fortescue.

In eating Bread he made no Crumbs,He was extremely fond of sums,

To which, however, he preferredThe Parsing of a Latin Word–

Such assiduous, good behaviour brings its just reward:

He rose at once in his Career,And long before his Fortieth Year

Had wedded Fifi, Only ChildOf Bunyan, First Lord Aberylde.He thus became immensely Rich,And built the Splendid Mansion which

Is called ‘The Cedars, Muswell Hill’.Where he resides in Affluence still,To show what Everybody mightBecome by SIMPLY DOING RIGHT.

The gentle satire of Belloc’s comic verse, written at the very beginning of the twentieth century, has some relevance to life in Britain today. Men like Charles Augustus Fortescue still exist, their apparently effortless success a source of bewilderment and envy. How did they do it? Why have they been blessed with so much money? The way in which people set about acquiring wealth, and how they use it once they have got it, has preoccupied mankind for centuries.

Most human beings want to be richer than they are. In the English language there is a difference of meaning, or at least of usage, in the words ‘wealth’ and ‘riches’. Wealth implies a sense of prosperity shared for the common good. Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations, published in 1776, the same year as the American Declaration of Independence, has come to be seen as the great rational defence of capitalism, just as the United States has become its most controversial exponent. In this context ‘wealth’ means the collective output of a free market whose different functions reinforce one another to the benefit of all. We tend to use the word ‘riches’ rather differently. Riches can be envied as much as enjoyed. To be rich you need to have done better, or been luckier, than your fellow men. It denotes individual good fortune rather than social wellbeing. Man works to be wealthy, but gambles to be rich.

The fact remains, however, that a society cannot be wealthy unless at least some of its members are rich. And wealth cannot be created unless individuals are motivated to acquire riches. How people become rich – in other words, whether or not they can be said to have earned their wealth – lies at the heart of our attitude towards this whole subject. As I write, Britain is engulfed in a scandal about MPs’ expenses. Many of them have been exposed for making extravagant and dishonest claims for the maintenance of their second homes. People are angry because they believe those they elected to be the guardians of the nation’s money have behaved like cheats, trying to become richer without earning the privilege. Unearned wealth is not to be tolerated.

But what do we mean by ‘unearned’ wealth? Less than a hundred years after Adam Smith explained the advantages of a free market, Karl Marx described its dangers. Where Smith saw benevolent prosperity, Marx found exploitation and inequality. The huge process of industrialisation, which was beginning to rumble into action when The Wealth of Nations was published, had, in Marx’s view, resulted in social and economic divisions that could only end in tension and conflict. How man has coped with wealth and defined both its benefits and drawbacks is an essential part of world history.

This chapter is about man’s acquisition, and sometimes loss, of wealth and its consequences. It begins with the building of the Via Egnatia that carried the traffic of the Romans across the Balkans from the Adriatic to Constantinople. The Roman road system supported the wealth of the greatest of the empires in world history, helping to maintain a centralised grip on the huge territory it controlled. The chapter then explores the city of Chang’an in China, the first great city of the world – richer and larger than anything Europe would see for hundreds of years afterwards. Marco Polo and his family risked their lives in search of wealth, travelling from Venice to China towards the end of the thirteenth century. But in the middle of the fourteenth century the wealth that Europe had begun to enjoy from its expanding trade was nearly destroyed by the arrival of the Black Death. At the beginning of the seventeenth century the foundation of the Dutch East India Company demonstrated how easily merchants could become princes, and how money could rule the world. The invention of the Flying Shuttle in the early eighteenth century was a simple improvement to the business of weaving that, though small in itself, was the first step along a process of industrialisation that led to the biggest revolution in wealth-creation the world had ever seen. The discovery of oil in America accelerated that process and made some individuals fabulously rich. After the First World War, a failure to understand the economic interests of different countries lay at the heart of the Treaty of Versailles which, in trying to put Europe back together again, only succeeded in preparing it for another terrible war. Meanwhile the invention of the Model T Ford ushered in an age of consumerism: many more people could now at least feel rich if they wanted to. Finally, in our own time, the Credit Crunch brought to an end a period of continuous wealth expansion as people discovered that good times are never forever. From the tramp of Roman legions across the packed sand of a Balkan highway to the hideous devastation of the plague and the calculated ruthlessness of sober Amsterdam businessmen, from the belching ferocity of the Industrial Revolution to the economic failures of the Treaty of Versailles and the remorseless spread of the motor car, the history of mankind is a history of trying to get rich and stay rich.

CHAPTER 1 (#u144179df-4FFF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)

The Building of the Via Egnatia 146 BC (#u144179df-4FFF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)

The Via Egnatia was a Roman road that stretched from the Albanian port of Durres on the Adriatic coast to Istanbul. It carried commercial and military traffic across the Balkans and through Greece and Turkey, sustaining the wealth of a great empire.

For nearly a thousand years, the Romans ruled an empire the like of which the world had never seen before, and has not seen since. Their rise to power began at the beginning of the fifth century BC when, as a republic, they elected their first ruling consuls. It ended with the sack of Rome, by then just another city in only half the empire, by the Goths in 410 AD. At its height, after the conquest of Britain in the first century AD, the empire covered all of North Africa, the Middle East, Asia Minor, the Balkans and most of Western Europe including Spain, France, the German lands and Italy. But its size, though vast, was not the most impressive thing about it. Its extraordinary achievement – one that has never been equalled in the history of the world – was the degree of organisation and control that it brought and then maintained to the disparate territories under its authority. When St Paul, a converted Jew from the town of Tarsus in Anatolia (in what is now eastern Turkey), fell foul of the law for his preaching about Christianity, he could claim that he was a Roman citizen – ‘civis Romanus sum’ – and therefore be sent to Rome for trial. Whether patrolling the bleak landscape on the border between occupied Britain and Pictish Scotland, or marching through the desert in the conquered provinces of North Africa, a Roman lived under the same laws and was entitled to the same treatment.

Legal and administrative systems were not the only things that bound together the peoples whom the Romans ruled. They were also connected by a great road network that ran throughout the empire. Aristides of Smyrna, an orator living in the second century AD, enjoyed flattering his Roman masters by proclaiming: ‘You have merged all nations into one family.’ He went on: ‘You have measured the earth, bridged the rivers and made roads through the mountains.’ For a man like Aristides, an educated Greek who travelled all over the empire, roads were one of the most obvious manifestations of Roman power and wealth. Journeys across huge territories were comparatively easy and helped to create a secure, prosperous environment.

The Roman Empire’s extraordinary achievement was the degree of control it brought to territories under its authority.

The Roman road system began with the Via Appia which was built in the fourth century BC, when Rome was still a republic. It was named, as were most roads, after the official who ordered its construction and, by the middle of the second century BC, had reached what is now the port of Brindisi on Italy’s Adriatic coast. At this point in time Roman expansion was confined to land within the Italian peninsula, although the republic subsequently grew into an international power following the defeat of the Greek king, Pyrrhus, whose armies invaded southern Italy in 280 BC. In the years that followed, the Romans pushed out beyond the boundaries of Italy itself, conquering all of Greece, the Balkans and North Africa. With these victories came the need for new roads.

The Via Egnatia picked up on the other side of the Adriatic from where the Via Appia ended. Starting on the Albanian coast it followed the line of the River Shkumbin and went over the mountains of Candava towards Lake Ohrid. It then dropped south, going through several mountain passes until it reached the Aegean Sea at Thessalonica in Greece. From there it went through the port of Kavala, today the second largest city in northern Greece, crossed into Turkey at Ipsala before travelling the last 160 miles into Istanbul, then called Byzantium and later Constantinople. It was a great Balkan highway 700 miles long, designed when it was built to help bring control to Rome’s new conquests across the sea from its eastern shore, but eventually becoming the essential link between its western and eastern capitals. It was about twenty feet wide and paved with big stone slabs or packed hard sand. From the time when the Romans first gained power over the peoples of the Balkans and Asia Minor, to the moment, 500 years later, when their empire began to collapse, the Via Egnatia was one of the principal methods by which control was maintained and wealth distributed throughout this huge region.

The Roman road network not only carried troops and supplies but imperial messengers as well. The centre of the empire kept in touch with its provinces through the cursus publicus, the postal system, which could travel at very high speeds thanks to the frequent resting places where riders could change horses or repair their vehicles. The poet Ovid, who lived in Rome for about sixty years just after the assassination of Julius Caesar in 44 BC, said he received a letter from Brindisi in nine days – presuming that the post did not travel at night, an impressive average speed of thirty-six and a half miles per day. At the end of the eighteenth century, before mail coaches were introduced into Britain, the post from London to Bath could take nearly forty hours or more to reach its destination. Even with an improved road system a coach and horses could only manage an average speed of ten miles an hour by the time Queen Victoria came to the throne in 1837.

The Roman world was immensely rich in resources. Tin from Britain, silver from Spain, wheat from North Africa, and fruit from the Middle East, all found their way into Roman homes. Craftsmen who made clothes out of silk imported from China or glass objects created from the high-quality sand of the eastern Mediterranean could find markets for their goods in places far away from where they worked. Trade moved easily between one place and the next – and sometimes the merchants went with it, moving their places of business from one city, or one region, to another. A Roman altar discovered in Bordeaux in 1921 was found to contain an inscription from a wealthy merchant with positions in the cities of both York and Lincoln who thanked the ‘protecting goddess of Bordeaux’ for allowing him to complete his journey to her city. He might have been a trader selling French wine to the Roman legions stationed in Britain: the Romans were as familiar as we are with the free movement of goods across provincial boundaries. Today in Britain, we have grown used to enjoying the fruits of the world, but the generation that lived during and immediately after the Second World War did not drink much wine and rarely ate exotic fruits or other food from Europe and beyond. Now these things are part of the nation’s everyday diet: we have become used to peace and plenty. In this we are not unlike the people who lived in the Roman Empire as it reached the height of its power. Its extraordinary cohesion was reinforced by language and law and oiled by the benefits of trade. The Roman road – straight, ruthless and capable of cutting through any obstacle in its path – was the physical embodiment of the empire’s wealth and success.

The Via Egnatia survived the collapse of the Roman Empire in the West to remain an important highway for centuries afterwards. Inevitably it fell into disrepair. It is remarkable how the great buildings of Rome were allowed to decay: succeeding generations preferred to destroy or ignore what had been built, rather than make use of their remarkable architectural inheritance. The Romans were enthusiastic builders. Great cities as far apart as York, Lyon or Carthage (today part of Tunis), became the provincial capitals of the empire, each demonstrating the Roman taste for fortification and domestic architecture. The same types of buildings were reproduced everywhere, a coherent manifestation of the imperial presence. We can still see ruined examples of them all over Europe, beautifully constructed aqueducts, gates, theatres and villas that remind us of the extent of Roman power. The modern world has been brought up to believe in the concept of the nation state. We tend to talk about architectural style in terms of its country of origin – French, German, English and so on. When the Romans were the rulers of Europe it was not like that at all. Whoever you were, Berber, Celt or Slav, you were the citizen of a Roman province and subject to the tastes and disciplines of your Roman masters. Perhaps it was this that ensured their eventual destruction. Their beauty and usefulness was not enough to assuage the brutal forces of revenge. The historian Procopius, writing during the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian in the sixth century AD, reported that: ‘The barbarians … destroyed all the cities which they captured so completely that nothing has been left to my time to know them by – unless it might be one tower or one gate or some such thing that chanced to remain.’ The glories of Rome were extinguished with remarkable speed.

The Via Egnatia was the physical embodiment of the empire’s wealth and success.

It was Justinian who undertook repairs to the Via Egnatia. He had ambitions to restore the power of the old empire and, with his general Belisarius, succeeded in briefly recapturing Rome itself. His was a remarkable period of power. He was from peasant stock and his wife, Theodora, one of history’s more colourful consorts, was described famously in The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon as: ‘The prostitute who, in the presence of innumerable spectators, had polluted the theatre of Constantinople was adored as a Queen in the same city, by grave magistrates, orthodox bishops, victorious generals, and captive monarchs.’ In the end, Justinian’s legacy was not a new Roman empire, but a codification of Roman law that set out the basis for civil law still in use in many places today. He also rebuilt Constantinople, which he hoped to restore to the glory it had enjoyed under its founder, the Emperor Constantine, 200 years earlier. Beyond this, however, the architecture of ancient Rome continued to decay.

Despite the collapse of its infrastructure, the route of the Via Egnatia maintained its importance. At the end of the eleventh century, in 1081, the Byzantine Empire nearly collapsed after Norman invaders, having conquered southern Italy and Sicily, landed at Durres intent on breaking into Byzantium through its western gateway. The Emperor gathered an army and came down the Via Egnatia to confront the Normans who appeared to be isolated and disheartened after their invasion fleet had been defeated by the Empire’s allies, the Venetians. But the Norman commander, Robert Guiscard, was a resourceful and brilliant soldier. Displaying the same sort military bravado that had seen the island of Britain fall to Norman control at Hastings less than twenty years earlier, he routed the imperial army. Its defeat did not bring about the fall of the Byzantine Empire, but the Via Egnatia had now become a much more open road than before. Overland trade between Constantinople and the rest of the Byzantine Empire had always travelled along it. Following the battle of Durres, or Durrazzo to give it its Italian name, it also became the chosen route for the armies of the Crusades as they made their way out of Europe into Asia Minor. The first Crusade was launched fifteen years after the battle, in 1095.

Timeline of Roman History

The Roman road was straight, ruthless and capable of cutting through any obstacle in its path.

The Via Egnatia retains its allure as a symbol of prosperity and hope even today. The Via Egnatia Foundation was set up recently with the mission ‘to inspire this old road with new life’ and to stimulate cultural and economic interest in the region by bringing together the different communities through which the road passes. The road, that was once used by ‘by soldiers and later by crusaders, preachers, bandits, merchants and peasant caravans loaded with skins, wines, wood and sulphur’, served ‘economic and social functions for more than two millennia’.

So this great road is still with us. In the middle of the busy Greek city of Thessalonica the ruined Arch of Galerius, built at the end of the third century AD, stands across its route. Surrounded by cars, shops and the rest of the paraphernalia of modern city life it is a permanent reminder of an ancient empire and one of the great highways that carried its wealth.

CHAPTER 2 (#)

The City of Chang’an 750 AD (#)

In the middle of the seventh century AD, the largest city in the world was Chang’an on the Guanzhong Plain in central China. Standing at the end of the Silk Route that brought traders from all over Asia, it was rich, civilised, and home to a population of about a million people.

China has the oldest surviving civilisation in the world. Its modern population can trace its ancestry back to the Shang dynasty that ruled from about 1700 BC. An earlier dynasty, the Xia, seems to have existed from about 1900 BC, but evidence of its activities remains slight. There were other civilisations living in other parts of the world before this date but they have since died out. China has enjoyed a continuous development, growing from a fragmented rural culture into a great, united world power.

In the West, our knowledge of this process has been remarkably limited, not least because China has often preferred to shield itself from foreign intrusion and investigation. Until the early part of the nineteenth century it was, to most Western eyes, an enormous secret world, whose wealth and attainments were glimpsed only sporadically. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, imports of Chinese ceramics as a by-product of the tea trade promoted a fad for ‘chinoiserie’ as Western artists imitated what they believed to be Chinese styles in art and design. In 1793 a British diplomat, Earl Macartney, paid a visit to the Chinese Emperor on behalf of George III to try to win concessions for British trade in Chinese ports. Having agonised over the protocol of how to kneel in front of the imperial presence – his lordship would not ‘kowtow’ and prostrate himself, but agreed to go down on one knee as he would before his own king – Macartney presented a list of requests. But the Chinese were not interested. ‘I set no value on objects strange and ingenious and have no use for your country’s manufactures,’ was the Emperor’s haughty response. ‘Our Celestial Empire possesses all things in prolific abundance … there is no need to import the manufactures of outside barbarians in exchange for our own produce.’ The British came home empty-handed.

From the fall of the Roman Empire to the beginning of the Renaissance, the centre of the world lay in the East.

The Emperor who dismissed the British expedition with such disdain was Qianlong. He was a member of the Manchu or Qing dynasty that ruled China from the middle of the seventeenth century until the end of imperial rule in 1911. China was first united under a dynasty that existed nearly 2,000 years earlier, the Qin (pronounced ‘Chin’) from whom the name ‘China’ originally derives. The last emperor in this line went to his grave in 210 BC surrounded by the famous terracotta army, one of the world’s most exciting archaeological finds of the twentieth century. Although the Qin emperors only held power for fifteen years, the unification of the country under one government was an enormous, if bloody and ruthless, achievement. China did not enjoy the same measure of centralisation again until the second century AD, when first the Sui and then the Tang dynasties came to power. The Sui used the same repressive techniques as the Qin to gain control of all China’s lands. When they fell, their successors, the Tang, ruled for nearly 300 years, ushering in a period of growth and civilised development. It was during this period, from the beginning of the sixth century to the start of the ninth century AD, that the city of Chang’an became the greatest in the world.

The history of mankind from the Middle Ages to the present day has been in the main the history of a European civilisation. But before then, in the time between the fall of the Roman Empire to the beginnings of the Renaissance, the centre of the world lay in the East. When the city of Rome was at its height its population stood at around a million people. By 800 AD, when Chang’an was thriving, it had been reduced to no more than 50,000. The biggest city in Europe at this time was Córdoba in southern Spain, with a population of something in excess of 150,000. It was not really ‘European’ at all, but the capital of an Arab dominion, a caliphate that controlled most of the lower part of the Iberian peninsula. That part of Europe had fallen to a foreign power as the Moors, inspired by the world’s newest religion of Islam, pushed out from their original homelands in North Africa. Other European cities were tiny by comparison. London probably had a population of no more than 10,000.

It was a teeming, cosmopolitan city.

Chang’an was a teeming, cosmopolitan city. High walls protected the inhabitants and no one except imperial messengers could enter or leave during the night when the city gates were locked and a strict curfew was enforced. The town was constructed on a grid with broad roads running either north to south or east to west. Speed restrictions applied to coachmen and riders on horseback. There were five canals that carried merchandise all over the town and delivered water to its parks and fed the lakes in the gardens of the nobility. Within this framework, Chang’an was divided into sections, each with its own walled boundary and housing its own complement of homes, offices, temples and workshops. The curfew applied here too: once its drumbeat sounded at the end of the day, the gates dividing the different areas were closed and movement between them was forbidden. A night patrol called the Gold Bird Guard enforced the law, capturing and beating those who disobeyed. There was a government office, a walled compound from which the Emperor’s representative read imperial decrees to the city’s seniors who stood before him in carefully designated ranks. There were many monasteries – fabulously wealthy places endowed by rich aristocrats or the Emperor himself – whose splendid pagodas dominated the city skyline. The pagoda was a form of architecture developed by the Chinese from an Indian design. Today the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda and the Small Wild Goose Pagoda – one 210 feet high, the other 141 feet – still stand in the modern Chinese city, renamed X’ian (‘Western Peace’), memorials to an age 1,300 years ago when the landscape they survey was the most prosperous in the world. The ancient city had beautiful parks, generally off limits to ordinary citizens, but places where the rich and well connected could go to enjoy the countryside or feast in tents that protected them from the spring rain. It also boasted a ‘red-light district’ where madams offered girls as young as eleven or twelve to their customers and courtesans entertained members of the imperial court and well-heeled merchants.

It became the greatest city in the world.

The wealth of the city was based on its markets. Chang’an had two, both of which were strictly controlled by a government agency that registered merchants, inspected the currency for counterfeit coins and imposed regulations relating to weights and measures. Some sold goods imported from all over the world – precious stones, silks and sacred relics. Others had more everyday produce on sale such as meat, vegetables, fish and herbs. There were restaurants where customers could enjoy pastries and other delicacies and moneylenders were available to advance cash to those who needed it. There was also a primitive banking system. For a fee, certain traders would take charge of citizens’ valuables giving them pieces of paper as proof of their deposits. The owners could then use these as a method of financing other purchases, in effect using a sort of paper currency. Many of the traders came from Central Asia – from the lands that now encompass countries such as Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan – and from Persia. It is also probable that the city had a number of night markets, today a normal feature of life in many large Asian cities, even though the authorities, who liked to impose restrictions on the movement of city dwellers after dark, disapproved of them. The Han dynasty poet Ban Gu described the busy scene as follows:

In the nine markets they set up bazaars,Their wares separated by type, their shop rows distinctly divided.There was no room for people to turn their heads,Or for chariots to wheel about.People crammed into the city, spilled into the suburbs,Everywhere streaming into the hundreds of shops.