On All Saints’ Day, November 1, 1755, at approximately 9:40 am, the Portuguese capital of Lisbon experienced a triple disaster of an earthquake, tsunami, and fire that would change the way Europeans understood nature. What began as a massive seismic shift quickly escalated into a nightmare of biblical proportions. Because it was a major holy day, thousands of candles were lit in the city’s many cathedrals, and so when the tremors struck, many of the candles toppled, igniting fires that would rage for nearly a week.

When a Holy Day Turned into a Crisis of Faith

The disaster was the result of a submarine earthquake estimated at a magnitude of 7.7 to 9.0, originating in the Azores-Gibraltar Transform Fault. As enormous churches tumbled on their congregations inside, survivors ran toward the banks of the Tagus to escape falling rubble and rising flames. There, they saw the water recede, revealing a riverbed littered with sunken ships and abandoned cargo. About 40 minutes later, a towering tsunami slammed into the city, sweeping over those who had fled to the waterfront.

Digging through the ruins of what was one of Europe’s largest and richest cities, survivors slowly began to comprehend the magnitude of the destruction. Estimates ranged from about 40,000 to 50,000 fatalities. As they tried to make sense of the destruction around them, they wondered how God could have watched this happen to His people in His own churches, especially on a day when all saints were celebrating together, and His followers were kneeling in prayer. The disaster ignited fierce debates over theodicy (the attempt to vindicate divine goodness in the face of evil and suffering).

How the Ruins of Lisbon Shattered European Optimism

Before the disaster, many educated Europeans subscribed to the philosophy of Optimism. Advocated by Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz in his work Theodicy in 1710 and popularized by Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man. The philosophy held that since God is omnipotent and omnibenevolent, He could not have chosen anything but the “best of all possible worlds,” when it came to worldly matters. According to the theory, what humans perceived as evil was merely a necessity required for a greater, cosmic good that humans simply lacked the perspective to understand.

The earthquake shattered this worldview for many. The sheer death toll and the collapse of churches while the city’s brothels in the Alfama district largely remained standing due to their more stable, rocky ground made the “best of all possible worlds” argument seem increasingly absurd.

How Voltaire and Rousseau Clashed Over the Cause of the Tragedy

Voltaire led the intellectual assault on Optimism. In 1756, he published Poème sur le désastre de Lisbonne, a scathing critique of Leibnizian logic. He asked pointedly why innocent infants were left to writhe in pain if a merciful God was in control. Voltaire later cemented this critique in his 1759 masterpiece, Candide, where the character Dr. Pangloss parodies the “Optimist” view by insisting that everything is for the best even as he and the protagonist endure horrific tragedies.

However, the debate was not one-sided. Jean-Jacques Rousseau responded to Voltaire by shifting the blame from God to humanity. Rousseau argued that the earthquake was not a divine act of cruelty, but a consequence of human urbanization. He noted that if 20,000 houses of six or seven stories had not been crowded together in a seismic zone, the damage would have been negligible. This marked a pivotal moment in Western thought, moving the focus away from divine punishment and toward human responsibility and urban planning.

How Pombal and Kant Shifted Disaster from Religion to Science

While philosophers debated, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo (later known as the Marquis of Pombal), kickstarted the nation’s recovery process on behalf of the overwhelmed King Joseph I. He sidelined religious leaders who preached divine wrath to launch a remarkably organized, secular disaster relief effort. He also began rebuilding Lisbon with earthquake-resistant structures. The new buildings featured a cross-braced wooden frame called a Pombaline cage. The feature allowed the houses to sway during a quake rather than snap.

At the same time, in East Prussia, a young academic named Immanuel Kant became fascinated with identifying the cause of the earthquake. He compiled reports of the earthquake’s movements and wrote three scientific papers about it in 1756. Kant described the quake as caused by subterranean gases igniting inside underground caves, instead of a punishment from God sent upon sinners. While Kant’s theory about gases was wrong, his ideas inspired others to search for natural causes behind earthquakes instead of relying on religion. The shift in thinking helped pave the way for the later study of seismology.

By shaking traditional religious belief systems, the 1755 Lisbon earthquake marked the start of a more secular and scientific way of understanding the world, laying the groundwork for the Enlightenment, otherwise known as the Age of Reason.

The early Church utilized art as a means of communication, as a secret way to express their faith in Christ and (hopefully) sidestep Roman persecution. Examining these coded images, such as fish and bread, helps explore how early Christian communities turned to art as a means of expression and survival.

The Subterranean World of Imperial Rome

Outside the city walls of ancient Rome, in the year 1578, archaeologists stumbled upon extensive underground tunnels organized into intricate networks that appeared to have been used primarily as tombs. There was little doubt as to who the people were who used these underground burial networks, because they identified themselves using art. 

In a society where the early Church faced severe persecution under Roman law as a forbidden superstition (religio illicita), the first Christians expressed themselves away from the public eye, underground.

Despite the probable toxic fumes of decomposing corpses, the tight spaces, and dim lighting, the Roman Catacombs became the canvas that held their passionate beliefs. Art became a means of communication in these low-profile sanctuaries, safely tucked away from the persecution these early Christians faced above ground.

The Visual Language of Survival Under Persecution

There is something striking about the catacombs being both a place of mourning and artistic expression. It reminds one of Ezekiel’s prophecy where the valley of dead bones come back to life by the word of God. For the God of the Bible has always been One who brings beauty from ashes.

Roman authorities were likely aware of the catacombs, yet the art inside still indicates some fear of being found out. The early Christians adopted and altered existing pagan art motifs, probably to avoid suspicion. Facing Roman persecution, art offered secret signs and a mode of communication. 

While modern Christian imagery popularly prefers the cross, the gruesome reality of crucifixion in those times meant that image would not appeal to them as something awe-inspiring. Their chosen visual language, still evident in some catacombs today, favored imagery such as fish, bread, and lambs.

Decoding the Cryptographic Secrets of Ancient Christian Imagery

Art offers an ambiguous method for oppressed peoples to provide solidarity to one another subtly and safely. Consider the edelweiss flower pins worn by youth opposing Hitler’s reign, or the flying geese patterns embroidered by African American slaves. 

The ancient Christian icons often depicted events from the life of Jesus through multi-layered metaphors. One such example is found in the history of the fish symbol (Greek = Ichtys). Legend has it that this was a mnemonic device where each letter of the word became a code in the message of the Gospel, stating Jesus Christ was the Son of God and the Savior. Jesus called disciples to be fishers of men, so a fish became the preferred sign.

Another example of cryptographic or encoded catacomb art is the common images of bread, referencing God’s provision (the wilderness manna), Jesus’ multiplication miracle (of the loaves and fishes), and the use of the Lord’s Supper (Eucharist).

Art and Its Meaning Inside the Catacomb of Callixtus

It’s fascinating that this network of burial caves was forgotten for so many years and truly astounding that the artworks were preserved so well despite their fragile state. The catacomb of Callixtus along the Appian Way, for example, is home to frescoes from around the 3rd century, offering a real window into what life was like for the early Christians. 

Here, large and well-kept paintings reveal Christian meanings to the observer who knows what to look for. 

• An image of a young man carrying a lamb on his shoulders seems random enough, but it echoes Jesus’ teaching where he said: “I am the good shepherd” (John 10:11).

• Or an image of fish and bread clearly holds five loaves, the same amount Jesus used to feed the multitude. It is also interpreted as Jesus (remember Ichtys?) giving spiritual food.

The Evolution From Subterranean Graffiti to Renaissance Masterpieces

These were the humble beginnings of the art history of the early Church. The parables that Jesus used to teach became a kind of hidden language, offering persecuted Christians the solidarity and comfort they so needed. The events of his life, memorized and repeated, slowly became traditions marking this persecuted minority as an emerging religion. Following the Edict of Milan, art would still be used to express the faith, but with no more of the limitations posed by the conditions underground.

These early Christian symbols were not the only archaeological evidence found indicating who was laid to rest in these tombs. They also found scrolls naming believers, rooms for funerary customs, and small trinkets left with bodies to identify them (many of which were already looted). 

Whether the catacombs were a secret from Roman officials or not, the images painted in them are evidence of a certain coded language used by the first believers to express their faith boldly.

Coco Chanel is known for many iconic creations: the Little Black Dress, Chanel No. 5, and her world-famous fashion house. Lesser known is the fact that Chanel also worked with the Nazis during World War II. Smart, connected, and entrepreneurial, Chanel offered to broker a separate peace between Great Britain and Germany, a move that would have changed the course of the conflict. But what influenced Chanel’s decision to associate with the Abwehr? Here’s how one of France’s most famous figures ended up as a Nazi agent.

The Chanel Connection

Coco Chanel is one of the most famous names in fashion. During the 20th century, she revolutionized women’s style, helping liberate women from corsets and introducing the Little Black Dress. At the height of her fame, she lived a lavish lifestyle and counted powerful people, such as Sir Winston Churchill, among her friends.

But Chanel also had a secret. During one of history’s darkest chapters, the style maven started down a path that led her to become a Nazi agent.

Born in 1883, Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel fought her way out of poverty with a combination of wit, opportunity, and strategic relationships. She also grew up in a time of widespread anti-Semitism. The high-profile 1894 trial of Captain Alfred Dreyfus, an innocent Jewish officer accused of espionage, generated a propaganda campaign that polarized French society and may have influenced Chanel’s perspectives.

By twenty, Chanel worked as a seamstress by day and a cabaret singer at night. Legend suggests officers nicknamed her “Coco” after the French word cocotte (kept woman), though Chanel maintained the name derived from popular cabaret songs she performed. She kept the nickname for the rest of her life.

While Chanel fought her way to the top of French couture through skill and business acumen, Chanel also leveraged her personal relationships to climb social ladders and fund her business ventures. By the time she developed connections with a Russian grand duke and the English Duke of Westminster, and formed a close friendship with Sir Winston Churchill, Chanel had founded her own fashion house.

A Nazi Lover

The fall of France to German forces in June 1940 led to the establishment of the collaborationist Vichy government. Meanwhile, Charles de Gaulle led the Free France government in exile, and the French Resistance launched an underground struggle against the Nazis.

When the Germans first entered Paris, Chanel did not welcome them with open arms. Instead, she fled to Corbère, in the south, where she took refuge with the family of her nephew, André Palasse. Later, she learned André’s fate. He had been captured while defending the Maginot Line during the German invasion and taken to a POW Stalag camp deep inside Germany. After learning André was still alive, Chanel returned to Paris. Within a short time, she began a new liaison with a German master spy named Baron Hans Günther von Dincklage.

Thirteen years Chanel’s junior and with ties to both the Gestapo and the SS, Dincklage already had a track record for operating as a Nazi spy in Paris. What he didn’t know was that the French Resistance already suspected him. Rather than risk an unknown replacement arriving, they tracked Dincklage’s movements and allowed him to continue his activities, unaware that he had blown his cover.

Everyday life in wartime France was complex and dangerous. While the French Resistance risked their lives to resist the Nazis and to save Jewish lives, Chanel took a room at the Hotel Ritz. Occupied by swarms of German officers, this luxury spot also became her rendezvous site with her new Nazi lover.

At 57, Chanel was smart, glamorous, and well-connected, three things that made her an attractive asset to the Abwehr, the German military intelligence agency. They hoped to exploit Chanel’s first-class social and political connections with elites in Paris, London, and Madrid.

Chanel had strong personal motivations for associating with high-ranking Nazi officers. She leveraged her proximity to power to secure her nephew’s release from the prison camp. When the Abwehr learned of this, they offered to release André if Chanel acted as their agent.

After Chanel struck a deal with the Germans, the Nazis gave her the agent number F-7124. She also received the codename Westminster, a reference to her 1920s affair with the Duke of Westminster. Evidence suggests that Chanel may also have recruited other agents for the Third Reich, in addition to the conveyance of information.

Operation Modelhut

During the winter of 1943, as Allied forces began to push Hitler back in Eastern Europe and North Africa, Resistance leaders in Paris initiated a surge of violent resistance against their German occupiers. As the situation intensified, Nazi leadership advised Dincklage to escape the city. Chanel not only decided to go with him, but also devised a plan to stay useful to the occupation forces.

The Nazis wanted to seal a separate peace with the British, cut the Soviets and Americans out of the picture, and release the suffocating pressure that Britain’s naval blockade exerted on Germany.

Capitalizing on Chanel’s prewar friendship with Churchill, the Germans recruited her for Operation Modelhut, or Model Hat, and tasked her with delivering a personal message to the British prime minister to negotiate a peace deal favorable to Germany.

Dincklage headed to Germany to confer with Adolf Hitler, while Chanel made two trips to Berlin in April 1943 to meet with the head of SS intelligence, General Walter Friedrich Schellenberg. After receiving her instructions, Chanel recruited her friend, Vera Bate Lombardi, another close Churchill associate, to act as her emissary. Bate would convey an offer to the Allies by traveling through Spain, a neutral country, to England. Upon landing in Madrid, Bate went straight to the British Embassy with Chanel’s letter to Churchill in hand.

Instead of conveying the secret message about a separate peace, Bate broke down and confessed her role in the plot, implicating Chanel as a Nazi spy.

The mission was dead in the water.

Collaboration

By the winter of 1944, Chanel learned that the Germans had kept their promise. They released André. Chanel had held up her end of the bargain despite the mission’s collapse.

Even after the Nazis released her nephew, Chanel continued to associate with the Germans. Although Chanel shuttered her famous studio on Rue Cambon when the Nazis occupied Paris, her perfume boutique enjoyed a bustling trade as German soldiers bought bottles of Chanel No. 5 for their wives and girlfriends back home. Chanel had a new goal. She attempted to use the Nazi Aryanization laws against her Jewish business partners, the Wertheimer family, to regain control of her perfume company.

In 1924, the Jewish Wertheimer family partnered with Chanel to finance her perfume business in return for a 70% share in the company. At the time, Chanel agreed. But now, with perfume sales thriving, Chanel wanted a bigger slice of the pie. At a time when denunciations had real-world consequences, and an estimated 77,000 French Jews perished in detention and killing centers like Buchenwald and Auschwitz, Chanel used her influence to exploit Aryan laws to gain full control of the business.

In a chilling pivot, Chanel denounced the Wertheimers to the Nazis. But the Wertheimers had already outmaneuvered her. Before fleeing to the United States, the family legally turned over Les Chanel Parfums to a French businessman named Félix Amiot. The Nazi authorities refused to get involved. With the company officially out of Jewish hands, Chanel’s plan to regain control collapsed. After the war, Amiot returned the booming brand to the Wertheimers.

Arrest

Following the liberation of Paris in 1944, Free French officials detained Chanel at the Ritz. French intelligence had gathered files on public figures they suspected of collaborating with the Germans. After interrogation, the authorities released her due to insufficient evidence.

Some historians believe that Churchill may have played a role in her release, although no concrete evidence for this exists. One theory suggests that Chanel, a former lover of the Duke of Westminster, may have known that Churchill violated the 1939 Trading with the Enemy Act by secretly paying the Nazis protection money to safeguard the ex-king’s property in Paris.

Whatever the real reason for her release, Chanel avoided the severe consequences experienced by many French women accused of being “horizontal collaborators.” By the time the Allies liberated Paris, Chanel started handing out free bottles of Chanel No. 5 again, this time to Allied soldiers to take home as gifts.

In 1944, Dincklage escaped to Switzerland, where Chanel joined him in 1945. There, the couple lived in a luxury hotel for the next decade, funding their lifestyle with the royalties from her perfume business.

Chanel’s collaboration remained a secret for decades until the French government declassified the files in 2014. For a decade, Chanel stayed in the shadows, but by the 1950s, she returned to the spotlight. Her relationship with a German spy and her collaboration with the Nazis was never exposed during her lifetime. Only a hint of wartime scandal clung to Chanel, who publicly spent the war in a luxury hotel with a German lover.

The Verdict

Chanel survived the war with her fashion house intact by solidifying her place in the world of the Vichy regime. She also initially became involved in the murky world of Nazi espionage to release her nephew from a German Stalag. Confusingly, some French sources suggest that Chanel may have also worked for the French Resistance in 1943, turning her into a collaborator, Nazi agent, or double spy.

After the war, Chanel failed to distance herself from her Nazi ties and maintained her romantic relationship with Dincklage. The extent of her wartime espionage remains unclear. What is known is that while Chanel may not have swallowed Nazi ideology whole, she weaponized her connections, the court system, and Nazi propaganda to disenfranchise her Jewish partners and position her brand exactly where she wanted it.

Toward the end of her life, Chanel summed up her success in a single crisp sentence: “I was there, an opportunity beckoned, and I took it.” Perhaps that is the best way to consider Chanel’s wartime actions, as the acts of an opportunist who did what it took to ensure that her career survived the war at any cost.

Throughout Ottoman history, women across Eastern Europe and the Balkans were thrust into the turbulent politics of the Ottoman imperial court. Many were enslaved and sold into the harem. Others were diplomatic bargains by kingdoms desperate to avoid an Ottoman invasion. These women learned how to navigate, consolidate, and even wield power. While some served as steadfast advisors for legendary sultans like Mehmed II, others overturned centuries of custom and ruled as queen mothers and regents, transforming the harem into the heart of imperial power.

How Mara Branović Bridged the Christian and Ottoman Worlds (c. 1417/1420–1487) 

Daughter of the Despot of Serbia, Mara was married to Sultan Murad II in 1435/6 to stave off an Ottoman invasion and raids. While she bore the sultan no children, Mara became a crucial maternal figure, advisor, and supporter of Murad’s son, Mehmed II. Despite her Orthodox faith, Mara supported Mehmed’s mythic defeat of the Eastern Roman Empire as the Conqueror of Constantinople in 1453. 

Mara served as a key ambassador and diplomatic advisor for Mehmed’s expanding Islamic Empire. She appeased Christian Europe to legitimize his rule and quelled threats of a Crusade. She also became Mehmed’s main intermediary with the Republic of Venice and the Kingdom of Hungary, brokering key trade agreements to integrate and legitimize the empire’s place as a dominating European force.  

Hürrem Sultan and the Legal Revolution That Made Her Empress (c. 1505/1507–1558)

Enslaved from the former Kingdom of Poland, present-day Ukraine, Hürrem captured the heart of Suleiman I. His love for her forever changed Ottoman succession, gender, and reproductive politics. He refused to take any other lovers and invented a new position to raise her status to the Haseki Sultan, chief consort. Hürrem further enraged his court by marrying Suleiman in 1533/34, becoming the first concubine to marry a sultan.

Her unprecedented rise garnered a mix of respect, jealousy, hate, and fear. Regardless, Hürrem ushered in the empire’s golden age as Suleiman’s co-ruler and most trusted advisor. She brokered peace with neighboring Eastern European kingdoms. Hürrem also invested an unprecedented amount in local charity and philanthropy. She founded soup kitchens, water systems, public schools, and baths across the empire. Most famously, she created the Haseki Sultan Complex that cared for disabled, poor, sick, and pregnant women.

Nurbanu Sultan and the Rise of the Harem Power Brokers (c. 1525–1583)

From either Venetian, Greek, or Jewish origins, Nurbanu rose to political power as the most beloved concubine and Haseki Sultan of Selim II. Within the harem, she cultivated an intensive network of supporters among religious figures, grand viziers, diplomats, and politicians. When Selim died unexpectedly in 1574, she froze and hid his corpse until her son could return and claim the throne. Elevated to the position of valide sultan, Queen Mother, Nurbanu exercised an unprecedented amount of authority over the Ottoman Empire until her death.

Her will influenced all Murad III’s decisions regarding politics, political appointments, and marriage. She oversaw Ottoman diplomacy and even developed a friendship with Catherine de Medici. Her vice grip on the imperial harem is often credited for ushering in the most dominant chapters of the Sultanate of Women. For the next century, mothers, concubines, and brides fought and ruled the empire from the harem over increasingly weak, paranoid, and mentally ill sultans. 

Safiye Sultan’s Global Network of Spies, Foreign Trade, and Imperial Intrigue (c. 1550–1619)

From present-day Northern Albania, Safiye was sold into the imperial harem at the age of 13. Becoming Nurbanu’s greatest challenger, Safiye was exiled until Nurbanu’s passing. Afterward, Safiye returned to court as Murad’s chief consort. While Murad was distracted fathering 100 children, Safiye consolidated power and became one of the wealthiest and most powerful women in Ottoman history.

After Murad’s death, Safiye became the new valide sultan. She established international networks of spies and allies, and developed strong relations with Venice and Elizabeth I of England. Appointments, dismissals, and even executions ran through her approval. To maintain her power, she even orchestrated the execution of her own grandson, Şehzade Mahmud, in 1603. However, her tenure overlapped with periods of extreme instability and revolt. Safiye became the main scapegoat for all internal failings of the empire and was removed from power by her grandson, Ahmed I, in 1604.

Kösem Sultan’s 45-Year Dominance as the Empire’s First Female Regent (c. 1589–1651)

Kösem Sultan amassed more sovereignty than any previous valide or Haseki Sultan. Either Greek, Bosnian, or Circassian, Kösem became the chief consort of Ahmed I by the age of 15. After his death, she became the empire’s first female regent, commanding the janissaries, military leadership, court officials, religious leaders, and the harem. Her political rule spanned more than 45 years, during periods of extreme poverty, inflation, plague, military defeats, and bitter harem rivalries. 

However, her controversial reign was marred by the evident decline of the Ottoman Empire, exacerbated by mentally unstable, erratic, sex-crazed, and paranoid sultans. She even deposed her own son Ibrahim the Mad and approved his strangulation to maintain order. 

Kösem also invested in expansive networks of charities, schools, mosques, and liberated her female slaves by often providing their dowries to secure advantageous marriages. Kösem’s reign was ended by her own daughter-in-law. Hatice Turhan, the new valide sultan, had Kösem strangled in 1651 to protect her young son’s reign.

The prominent figure of the American Old West is not a superhero, nor some great military warrior or leader. It is the cowboy – the common working, itinerant traveling, lonesome, ten-gallon hat and boot-wearing man of the ranges. Often seen on a horse and sporting a six-shooter, the image of the cowboy is branded into the imagination of nearly every American.

The Mexican Roots That Shaped the American Frontier

The Spanish vaquero is the historical occupation that gave rise to the American cowboy. The Spanish vaquero was a type of range cowherder, an occupation that traveled with the Spanish to the New World, particularly into Mexico. Much of the equipment that we associate with the cowboy – saddle, bridle, and similar equipment – is Spanish in style and origin.

How an English City Hat Transformed Into the Boss of the Plains

While the bowler from England was popular in the American West, it did not quite fit the needs of the cowboy with its short brim. In 1865, John Batterson Stetson created the “Boss of the Plains” hat, which was more suitable to the climate of the American Southwest – a wide-brimmed hat for shade with a high crown for insulation. Stetson’s hat would evolve into various forms over the years, eventually into the modern “ten gallon” hat and others associated with cowboys.

Why the Cowboy Legend Isn’t Actually Uniquely American

Wherever there are cows, they have to be physically herded, and up until recent history, the best methodology worldwide (and still in use in some areas) is some form of “cowboy.” In Mexico, via Spain, it is the vaquero (from which our term “buckaroo” is derived) and the charro. Colombia and Argentina have the llanos, and the gaucho is in Argentina. Many other cultures that handle cattle have their own form of the cowboy.

What Turned Common Working Men Into Legendary American Icons

The cowboy is a common man with uncommon skills. Horseback riding at an expert level has long been honored, as far back as medieval knights and Mongol bowmen. Even more modern military skills, such as marksmanship, are accentuated when they can be done from the back of a moving horse – a common theme in westerns. Also, the cowboy represents a sort of independence from society, not unlike Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn – the rejection of “civilized” society to roam with free choices and liberty of movement and thought.

Why Historians Struggle to Uncover the Real Old West

While we have distinct images of cowboys, particularly in America, what made the cowboy so interesting is also a problem for historians. Cowboy traditions are mostly oral, and unless a cowboy was literate, very few left behind what can be studied as records. While North American cowboys were more literate than their South American counterparts, their lifestyle still tended away from those places which kept records – churches and city centers. 

While the history of the cowboy is recent enough that we know their activities in general, many specifics have not come down over time. Historian Richard Slatta writes in his book Comparing Cowboys & Frontiers:

“…we find no wills, inventories, bank accounts, safety deposit boxes, probate records, or catalogs of library books…”

The Two Catastrophes That Ended the Cowboy Way of Life

Two significant events – an invention and a winter – resulted in the general end of the cowboy lifestyle. For years, cattle were allowed to wander in open ranges which were public property until they needed to be brought to market. Ranchers did not have to own the land, just the cattle. Barbed wire, patented in 1867 in the United States, provided a fast and easy way to close off land, resulting in less land to use for open grazing in the West, forcing ranchers to close off their territories. 

In 1885-1887, a succession of harsh winters called “the big die-up” occurred on the Great Plains, resulting in the loss of hundreds of thousands of cattle and bankrupting many ranchers. When it became more profitable to close off land, the necessity of the cowboy also came to an end.

During his ten years of wandering and solitude, al-Ghazālī lived austerely and forewent ordinary comforts. He authored many of his important works during this period and sought spiritual advancement through Sufi practices. In his final years, he immersed himself in contemplation and became a revered master of Sufism. Every moment of his life, until the end, was filled with acts of devotion in preparation for his union with the Beloved.

The Mysterious Last Morning of an Islamic Luminary

Ahmad, al-Ghazālī ’s younger brother, recounts his death: On a quiet Monday morning in December 1111 AD, in the Persian city of Tus, al-Ghazālī performed his ablutions and offered prayers. He then asked for his burial shroud, kissed it, and pressed it against his eyes, saying, “I hear and obey the call to go to the King.” He then rested his feet pointing toward Mecca and was taken up to the heavens by God.

According to a well-known spiritual tradition, al-Ghazālī told his companions that three men would come out from the Iraqi desert; two of them would wash his body, while the third would offer the funeral prayer. After the prayer, the men vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared. 

His followers later discovered a poem he had composed on his final night, either beneath his pillow or beside him. Titled Qul li-ikhwani (“Say to My Brothers”), it contains his final words on life and death.

The Radical Message of the Verse Found Beneath the Pillow

The opening lines of the poem called upon his companions to cease their mourning and weeping. The translation by Dr. Martin Lings, who was taught by C.S. Lewis at Magdalen College, Oxford, reads as follows: 

Say unto brethren when they see me dead,
And weep for me, lamenting me in sadness:
“Think ye I am this corpse ye are to bury?
I swear by God, this dead one is not I.” 

Al-Ghazālī vividly describes his body as a “talisman of dust,” an imprisoning shell, a temporary garment, and a broken birdcage from which his true identity had been freed. 

Islamic teaching prescribes how to prepare for death and how bodies are to be readied for burial. These observances include, among others, the reverential washing of the body with clean water and soap or ground lotus leaves (Sidr); shrouding the body in a white cotton or linen cloth (Kafan); performing the funeral prayer prior to burial; observing burial customs and grave placement; and observing the three-day mourning period (Hidaad), as well as visiting graves to pray for and remember the deceased. 

Imagine the shock al-Ghazālī ’s readers must have felt when he urged them not to grieve for him or mourn his passing (reminiscent of Socrates’ final words in the Crito). Al-Ghazālī recommended sleeping on one’s right side, following the practice (Sunnah) of the Prophet Muhammad, while facing the qibla, thereby anticipating the body’s positioning in the grave according to Islamic rites. He also advised reflecting on mortality and the impermanence of the body. Like other Sufi mystics, he passionately contemplated and meditated on death, viewing life as a pilgrimage toward unending life with God. 

Challenging Orthodox Views on Death and the Afterlife

While exegetes offered various interpretations and engaged in debates, orthodox medieval Islamic scholars often held a literal and legalistic view of the afterlife. Drawing on sacred and cosmological models, they envisaged the Seven Heavens as vertically nested celestial spheres for the righteous, and the Seven Hells as descending in tiers for the unrighteous, corresponding to the severity of their crimes. 

Philosophers such as Avicenna (Ibn Sīnā) and al-Ghazālī (though they disagreed on philosophical matters as well) focused on the importance of cultivating intellectual and moral habits of virtue in this life—specifically, those of contemplation. By doing so, the self-subsisting substance of the soul is polished and purified, allowing it to avoid the spiritual anguish of bodily attachment and effortlessly attain disembodied continuous spiritual communion with the Divine. Al-Ghazālī believed the afterlife was a state of union with God for the repentant, the supreme spiritual delight of which was the Beatific Vision. 

In his deathbed poem, al-Ghazālī declared that he was effectively dead while alive and would gratefully attain true life in his death (again, reminiscent of Socrates’ teaching that philosophy is preparation for death). Although not all their teachings align, the 12th-century Persian philosopher and mystic ‘Ayn al-Quḍāt similarly experienced a crisis of certainty. Like al-Ghazālī, he regarded the human intellect and senses as blind when it came to perceiving the realm transcendent to this one. ‘Ayn al-Quḍāt was imprisoned in Baghdad on charges of heresy and publicly executed in his hometown of Hamadan on May 6/7, 1131, at the behest of Sultan Maḥmūd ibn Malikshāh. 

Both thinkers believed in a higher form of intuitive knowledge acquired through inner insight, through the heart, implying that an inward path, and not exclusively ritual observance, is the true way to God. 

The Final Triumph of Mysticism Over Legalism?

Al-Ghazālī ’s lifelong intellectual effort lay in synthesizing Islamic jurisprudence and Sufism. He clearly did not think of them as opposites, but facets of the same jewel. Yet his final words give prominence to Sufism and its concept of Fana, describing the stages of the ego’s dissolution to attain unveiled proximity to God. 

The legacy of this poem endures, having alchemized a moment of somber mortality into a celebrated lyrical work of ultimate liberation.

One of the most enduring mysteries from Elizabethan England does not stand with the House of Tudor or other famous nobility. The mystery in question is whether or not a man from the small English town of Stratford-upon-Avon is the true author behind (arguably) the most celebrated dramatic plays in Western literature. His name was William Shakespeare, and there’s not much mystery to the man when you research his background.

Inside the Surprisingly Modest Life of William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare was indeed from a small town in central England, born in 1564. He never attended a university, and never left his country of birth. He did ostensibly travel around the greater English countryside and entertained royalty, but his life experiences were definitely limited.

He most likely attended King’s New School, where he was taught Latin and grammar from classical texts in the same language. When he was 18, he married Anne Hathaway, and it was probably a marriage of convenience, because six months later their daughter Susanna was born in May 1583. The twins Judith and Hamnet followed their elder sister two years later in February 1585. Young Hamnet died at age 11 on August 11, 1596. Shakespeare divided his time between London and his hometown, primarily writing his plays in the former.

Why Countless Scholars Question the Bard’s True Identity

Though many Shakespearean scholars draw thematic connections between the Bard’s life and his works, there are truly too many details that point toward a higher education and a well-traveled individual (or individuals) for someone of William’s background to have written the plays and poems.

It is possible that a single person could have written the plays, but the individual would have had to be of wealthy means, well-read and educated, well-traveled, and familiar with the political intrigues of the day; in essence, a genius. As previously mentioned, Stratford-upon-Avon wasn’t an important town and didn’t have the same prestige as London. People from other countries would have been a rare sight. There also wouldn’t have been an opportunity for self-education, because books were scarce and a public library didn’t exist. So, what are the theories for how Shakespeare accomplished his theatrical feats?

Was William Shakespeare Just a High Society Cover-Up?

The man we know as William Shakespeare was potentially a country-born actor who got lucky and made some prominent friends throughout his career. When he joined and purchased an ownership share in the Lord Chamberlain’s Men (the most prominent acting company of the time), he brought these connections with him. Because he was well-known and had a decent reputation, Shakespeare’s connections may have gotten together and asked Will to allow them to use his name to publish their works. This allowed the potentially true writers of these plays to release their works without fear of ostracism. Who could these true authors have been, though?

Sir Francis Bacon Was a Political Genius Hiding in Plain Sight

One proposed individual was the scholar Francis Bacon. He attended Cambridge University, helped develop the scientific method, was a highly regarded philosopher, and he also had social connections. He was a member of the Tudor court, became Lord Chancellor, and served on the Privy Council. Bacon had everything needed to write the plays, but why wouldn’t he want them ascribed to him?

One theory is that he didn’t want to be known as a playwright, which wasn’t the best occupation. He also poked and prodded the political figures and government of his day. He was a member of the government, so it wouldn’t have looked great for him to be teasing the establishment.

The Earl of Oxford Had the Perfect Background and Suspicious Timing

In the Oxford school of thought, Edward de Vere is a likely candidate. He grew up in the home of Elizabeth I’s chief advisor William Cecil and was richly educated. He was also well-traveled, which would explain the exotic locales featured in many of the plays. The nobleman was also a well-known patron of the arts, dramatist, and poet in his own right. After he published poems under his own name, he stopped, and not long after the first works “authored” by Shakespeare appeared. Edward de Vere would have been careful about publishing under his own name for the same reasons as Bacon.

That being said, a major hurdle in the acceptance of this theory is that de Vere died in 1604, years before many of Shakespeare’s key works were completed.

Did Royal Spy Christopher Marlowe Fake His Own Death?

Christopher Marlowe was more popular than Shakespeare back in Tudor England. He also was from a small town, but he was extremely intelligent and earned two degrees from Cambridge. The writing styles of Marlowe and Shakespeare are believed to be quite similar, which gives rise to the theory that Marlowe is the true author. There is also a theory that Marlowe was a spy for the Tudor court. He published an anti-religious work and supported atheist causes, so he had to be quiet about his associations.

There is much speculation about his death. He was stabbed to death, but some historians believe the death was faked to hide his role as a spy or to avoid arrest for his anti-religious writings. There is also the belief that after faking his death, Marlowe became William Shakespeare. This is believed because two weeks after Marlowe’s death, the first work by Shakespeare was published.

The Elite Women Who May Have Written the Masterpieces

It wasn’t just men who were possible writers of Shakespeare’s work. Women authors are also to be considered, especially when you read the plays. Shakespeare’s work is some of the first to depict women as real people without the traditional stereotypes of being vindictive or the overly moral virgin. Women were shown as friends, written as humans who worked together or dealt with the same issues as men, except in a feminine way.

Some possible women who wrote the works were Mary Sidney, the sister of poet Philip Sidney. She received a classical education, attended the Tudor court, and was a patron of the arts. She was also an accomplished writer who wrote closet dramas that allowed women to act in privacy without the “scandal” of professional theater. 

A second viable author is Emilia Bassano, who was born in London to Venetian merchants. It is believed the family converted to Judaism, which would explain the Jewish themes in some of the plays. As a merchant’s daughter, Bassano would have been well-traveled and would have received an education better than Shakespeare’s. 

Both women had connections to Shakespeare. As a patron of the arts, Sidney supported theater companies including Shakespeare’s. Bassano was also the mistress of one of Shakespeare’s patrons, so they would have met.

During his ten years of wandering and solitude, al-Ghazālī lived austerely and forewent ordinary comforts. He authored many of his important works during this period and sought spiritual advancement through Sufi practices. In his final years, he immersed himself in contemplation and became a revered master of Sufism. Every moment of his life, until the end, was filled with acts of devotion in preparation for his union with the Beloved.

The Mysterious Last Morning of an Islamic Luminary

Ahmad, al-Ghazālī ’s younger brother, recounts his death: On a quiet Monday morning in December 1111 AD, in the Persian city of Tus, al-Ghazālī performed his ablutions and offered prayers. He then asked for his burial shroud, kissed it, and pressed it against his eyes, saying, “I hear and obey the call to go to the King.” He then rested his feet pointing toward Mecca and was taken up to the heavens by God.

According to a well-known spiritual tradition, al-Ghazālī told his companions that three men would come out from the Iraqi desert; two of them would wash his body, while the third would offer the funeral prayer. After the prayer, the men vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared. 

His followers later discovered a poem he had composed on his final night, either beneath his pillow or beside him. Titled Qul li-ikhwani (“Say to My Brothers”), it contains his final words on life and death.

The Radical Message of the Verse Found Beneath the Pillow

The opening lines of the poem called upon his companions to cease their mourning and weeping. The translation by Dr. Martin Lings, who was taught by C.S. Lewis at Magdalen College, Oxford, reads as follows: 

Say unto brethren when they see me dead,
And weep for me, lamenting me in sadness:
“Think ye I am this corpse ye are to bury?
I swear by God, this dead one is not I.” 

Al-Ghazālī vividly describes his body as a “talisman of dust,” an imprisoning shell, a temporary garment, and a broken birdcage from which his true identity had been freed. 

Islamic teaching prescribes how to prepare for death and how bodies are to be readied for burial. These observances include, among others, the reverential washing of the body with clean water and soap or ground lotus leaves (Sidr); shrouding the body in a white cotton or linen cloth (Kafan); performing the funeral prayer prior to burial; observing burial customs and grave placement; and observing the three-day mourning period (Hidaad), as well as visiting graves to pray for and remember the deceased.

Imagine the shock al-Ghazālī ’s readers must have felt when he urged them not to grieve for him or mourn his passing (reminiscent of Socrates’ final words in the Crito). Al-Ghazālī recommended sleeping on one’s right side, following the practice (Sunnah) of the Prophet Muhammad, while facing the qibla, thereby anticipating the body’s positioning in the grave according to Islamic rites. He also advised reflecting on mortality and the impermanence of the body. Like other Sufi mystics, he passionately contemplated and meditated on death, viewing life as a pilgrimage toward unending life with God. 

Challenging Orthodox Views on Death and the Afterlife

While exegetes offered various interpretations and engaged in debates, orthodox medieval Islamic scholars often held a literal and legalistic view of the afterlife. Drawing on sacred and cosmological models, they envisaged the Seven Heavens as vertically nested celestial spheres for the righteous, and the Seven Hells as descending in tiers for the unrighteous, corresponding to the severity of their crimes. 

Philosophers such as Avicenna (Ibn Sīnā) and al-Ghazālī (though they disagreed on philosophical matters as well) focused on the importance of cultivating intellectual and moral habits of virtue in this life—specifically, those of contemplation. By doing so, the self-subsisting substance of the soul is polished and purified, allowing it to avoid the spiritual anguish of bodily attachment and effortlessly attain disembodied continuous spiritual communion with the Divine. Al-Ghazālī believed the afterlife was a state of union with God for the repentant, the supreme spiritual delight of which was the Beatific Vision. 

In his deathbed poem, al-Ghazālī declared that he was effectively dead while alive and would gratefully attain true life in his death (again, reminiscent of Socrates’ teaching that philosophy is preparation for death). Although not all their teachings align, the 12th-century Persian philosopher and mystic ‘Ayn al-Quḍāt similarly experienced a crisis of certainty. Like al-Ghazālī, he regarded the human intellect and senses as blind when it came to perceiving the realm transcendent to this one. ‘Ayn al-Quḍāt was imprisoned in Baghdad on charges of heresy and publicly executed in his hometown of Hamadan on May 6/7, 1131, at the behest of Sultan Maḥmūd ibn Malikshāh. 

Both thinkers believed in a higher form of intuitive knowledge acquired through inner insight, through the heart, implying that an inward path, and not exclusively ritual observance, is the true way to God. 

The Final Triumph of Mysticism Over Legalism?

Al-Ghazālī ’s lifelong intellectual effort lay in synthesizing Islamic jurisprudence and Sufism. He clearly did not think of them as opposites, but facets of the same jewel. Yet his final words give prominence to Sufism and its concept of Fana, describing the stages of the ego’s dissolution to attain unveiled proximity to God. 

The legacy of this poem endures, having alchemized a moment of somber mortality into a celebrated lyrical work of ultimate liberation.

To understand how the French governance system works today, one has to look at the Paris Commune of 1871. From March 18 to May 28 of that year, the citizens of Paris rose in rebellion against the national government and established a revolutionary council, the Paris Commune, which deeply influenced the country’s political trajectory. 

For two months, France’s capital severed its relationship with the central government, which had fled to the nearby city of Versailles, while the city itself operated as an insurrectionary community of workers. The violent crackdown that ended the Commune saw the state turn its guns on its own citizens and reshape French politics and legal systems. While the ruins of the Tuileries Palace were eventually cleared away, the violent split between the state and the people remains a central part of French history.

How a Crushing Defeat Ignited France’s Most Radical Rebellion

The Paris Commune was born out of the national trauma of a major military defeat. It all started following the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, in which Emperor Napoleon III surrendered to Prussian forces on September 2. His capture led to the collapse of the Second Empire and the proclamation of the Third Republic two days later, on September 4, when Parisian leaders declared the formation of a new provisional Government of National Defense to keep the country from falling apart.

Left with few options, French leaders signed a general armistice on January 28, 1871, and agreed to humiliating peace terms with the newly declared German Empire, leading to the loss of some territories. Some working-class Parisians refused to accept the surrender and soon, members of Paris’ National Guard, a volunteer citizen militia, sought to protect the city’s autonomy against Adolphe Thiers, the newly appointed Chief of the Executive Power. 

How the Defeated 1871 Uprising Quietly Launched France’s Most Progressive Laws

Fearing a full-scale armed revolt, Thiers and his cabinet fled the capital, and on March 26, Paris elected its own municipal council, which was the new radical local administration. The government introduced labor reforms that were decades ahead of their time.

In spite of the eventual harsh repression by the French government in 1871, many aspects of the Commune lived on in succeeding administrations. It did not take long for Republicans to pass legislation supporting secular policies. In the 1880s, they passed the Jules Ferry Laws, which made free primary education secular throughout France. They also passed the landmark 1905 law that completely separated the French Republic from religious institutions.

The state also regulated professional education for tradesmen and advocated for girls to receive an education equal to that of boys to create a more skilled workforce. Some protections supported by the Commune, such as the banning of night work for bakery employees, were later included in French labor legislation. 

The Surprising Ways a 150-Year-Old Rebellion Still Protects French Workers Today

A raft of laws that trace their roots back to early French legal history exist within French statutes today. Protection of a worker’s tools from being seized by creditors, for example, remains part of French law today because legislators realized that if the state were to protect its citizens, it would need to shield the direct means of their livelihood. The rule is strictly regulated under the French Code of Civil Enforcement Procedures (Code des procédures civiles d’exécution).

Other government policies that still reflect the Commune’s influence include the assistance of citizens with affordable housing through Solidarité et Renouvellement Urbain (SRU), a law passed on December 13, 2000. It requires that municipalities with populations above a certain threshold reserve a certain proportion of units within their borders as social housing (habitations à loyer modéré, commonly known as HLMs). The mandatory quota is set at between 20 and 25 percent.

The Fierce Historical Fight to Put French Politicians Under a Microscope 

The Commune’s suspicion of concentrated, elitist power is also echoed in French administrative law surrounding transparency. While Communards demanded that elected officials not make more than a living wage earned by a skilled worker and be under constant scrutiny by the people who employed them, the French government later established the Haute Autorité pour la transparence de la vie publique to independently address modern political accountability. The government agency monitors politicians’ assets to promote transparency and help prevent them from profiting from their positions of power.

One side saw them as traitors. The other side celebrated them as heroes. But starting in late summer of 1846, the Irishmen of the Saint Patrick’s Battalion of the Mexican Army fought resolutely against invading American forces. These renegades, clad once upon a time in US Regulation blue, deserted to the Mexican side. As Catholic immigrants in the US Army, they faced harsh treatment by American officers and shared a common faith with the other side. Enticements such as land, better treatment, and higher pay were offered.

This decision, however, came with consequences.

Catalysts for Desertion

The Irish soldiers’ decision to desert didn’t happen in a rush. The departures occurred gradually from late 1845. The first desertions came from Texas frontier posts (Fort Brown, Fort Isabel). The reasons came as 19th-century nativism swept through the US Army, with a predominantly Anglo-Protestant corps. Under their watch, Irish soldiers put up with discrimination, hostility, and often stricter discipline than Protestant soldiers. In addition, the officers limited access to Mass or clergy. This treatment compounded what many Irish faced growing up. Under British rule, they endured poverty and discrimination.

In April 1846, American and Mexican forces clashed, which accelerated desertions. For Irish deserters, 1846 became a turning point, as Mexican leaders, clergy, and others recognized an opportunity and exploited the poor treatment of the soldiers. Starting in May and June 1846, they offered the Irish better pay, officer positions, citizenship, and land. Also, the Irish deserters were drawn by the lure of a shared faith.

A Unit of Outcasts Led by John Riley

As the ex-US Army soldiers crossed the border into Matamoros, they reported to Mexican officers and met with priests. Desertions increased in May and June 1846. Among them was the future leader of the battalion, John Riley.

Riley, born around 1817 in Ireland, deserted on April 12, 1846, passing into Mexico. Like his comrades, he left only weeks before the war broke out. Though formerly a private, American officers utilized Riley’s previous experience in the British army. 

Riley started organizing the Irishmen and other deserters into an effective artillery unit. Most of the members had undergone rigorous US Army training. Riley drilled these men and later recruits in the American artillery method under the name The San Patricios Company. Sources say he may have created the unit’s banner around September 1846. This green flag, incorporating an Irish harp, the Mexican Army coat of arms, and the motto “Erin Go Bragh,” was born. The banner demonstrated their Catholic faith during their future battles. 

The Skill of the San Patricios

As the nucleus of the Saint Patrick’s company formed, the Mexican-American War broke out on May 13, 1846. One of the company’s first clashes occurred during the Siege of Monterrey, Sept. 21-24, 1846. The fight for this city (and citadel) evolved into a brutal urban brawl where the company deployed.

As American units pushed into the city, the San Patricios relied on their American training. Rapidly moving their guns in the narrow streets, they used canister fire to break up attacks. American pressure, though, made the defense untenable. The Mexicans retreated, but the San Patricios had proved their competence and professionalism. Impressed by their skills, Mexican officials began to organize the San Patricios as a battalion. 

They fought next at the Battle of Buena Vista (February 22-23, 1847). Here, the San Patricios again demonstrated their skill. Their constant fire hit the American center hard, nearly turning the tide of the battle. The Americans only avoided a collapse by committing their final reserves. 

A Final Stand, Trial, and Hangings

The August 20, 1847, Battle of Churubusco commenced as the American army moved towards Mexico City. Here, John Riley and the San Patricios, positioned in the thick of the fighting, fought ferociously. Though vastly outnumbered, the Mexicans hoped to delay the Americans from reaching the capital.

At the battle’s start, the San Patricios knew already how the fight would end. They fought at a bridgehead, then inside an adobe convent, with no way out. Riley and his men fought til they exhausted their artillery ammunition. They shifted to muskets, bayonets, and finally bare hands. Calls to surrender (or retreat) went ignored. Survivors knew their likely fate if taken: execution. American soldiers eventually overwhelmed the last survivors. 

The trials happened quickly. John Riley and these men were branded as traitors. Fifty received death sentences, being labeled “apostates” or “renegades.” Around or just before September 13, 1847, the fifty died in several mass hangings at Chapultepec. This was one of the largest mass executions in American military history. 

The achievements of the Saint Patrick’s Battalion stood out in the history of the Mexican-American War. They were called traitors by one side, but in Mexico, they are celebrated as heroes.