Introducing History Daily

Hey everybody, I’m Dan McClellan.

And I’m Dan Beecher.

And you’re listening to the Data Over Dogma podcast.

There is some question this week. There is some question. We are actually going to introduce you to our friends over at History Daily, which is a totally other podcast from us.

It is hosted by a gentleman named Lindsay Graham. I had the opportunity to chat with him for a bit last year when we were at a podcasting convention in Denver. He’s a great guy and a wonderful podcast host and I am hoping that you enjoy two episodes from History Daily.

Yeah, what they do is awesome. They literally every weekday they put out a different show. Just, I mean, you’re going to hear it’s going to be sort of a 20 minute thing about something that happened that day in history. So you could start each day with a different fun little history story from that day. So enjoy these things. We’ll be back with a regular show next week. But yeah, sit back, relax and enjoy History Daily.

Bye everybody.

This episode of History Daily originally aired on January 10, 2022. It’s March 17th, 45 BC in the Roman province of Hispania, in what is now southern Spain, two armies are locked in a fierce battle. On one side are 70,000 Roman soldiers loyal to the late General Pompey. These men want Rome to remain a republic, a representative democracy with power resting in an elected Senate. On the opposing side is an army of a maverick general named Julius Caesar, a man many consider a threat to the Republic. Four years ago, Caesar launched an attempt to bypass the democratic process and establish himself as dictator of the Roman Empire. Pompey stepped forward as the defender of the republic, the man who would protect Roman democracy from the power hungry Caesar.

But a year after his armies marched on Rome, Caesar defeated Pompey on the field of battle. With his great rival dead, Caesar considered the civil war won and the path to uncontested power clear. But more resistance soon emerged in the shape of Pompey’s two sons. Intent on avenging their father’s death, they assembled an army in Hispania to overthrow Caesar. Determined not to be outmaneuvered, Caesar sailed west with his legionnaires, sweeping across Hispania and pushing the republican forces back, until eventually the two sides met here, outside the town of Munda. Now, amid the clashing of swords and the constant rain of deadly arrows, Julius Caesar is struck by a rare moment of self-doubt. If he loses this battle, every victory so far will count for nothing. The future of the Roman Empire is at stake, and Caesar can feel it slipping through his fingers. His army is outnumbered by 30,000 men positioned at the foot of a hill.

Caesar and his soldiers are in a strategically weaker position. They have no choice but to grit their teeth and fight for their lives. The Battle of Munda will be the final conflict in Julius Caesar’s campaign to become the undisputed ruler of the Roman Empire. But Caesar’s fate and the fate of Rome was decided long before these two armies collided. That moment came four years earlier, on January 10, 49 BC, when Julius Caesar breached Roman law by marching his army across the Rubicon river, setting in motion a series of events that would change the course of Western civilization. From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day on this podcast, every day, we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world. Today is January 10th, 49 BCE. Julius Caesar crosses the Rubicon. It’s April 59 BC, 14 years before the Battle of Munda in Rome. A wedding is underway. A bride and groom stand before an altar of Jupiter and a priest makes an offering. Once their union has been sealed, the guests rush forward to congratulate the newlyweds. Standing slightly apart from the crowd is 40-year-old Julius Caesar, dressed in a crimson toga. The renowned general looks on as the attendees shower the bride and groom with gifts. His stern expression is hard to read, but in Caesar’s steel-gray eyes, there gleams an unmistakable look of triumph across the marble atrium. The groom glances up from the smiling crowd of well-wishers and catches Caesar’s eye.

It’s a fleeting moment, unnoticed by the other guests, but the look the two men exchange seemed to contain a greater weight of significance than any of the wedding vows. The groom is the Roman general and statesman Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, better known as Pompey. His military exploits have expanded Rome’s empire and helped Pompey establish himself as an influential senator. By contrast, Caesar is a more divisive figure. Following military conquests in Spain, Caesar returned to Rome, where he wishes to run for consul, the highest political office in the land. But powerful enemies stand in his way. Many senators suspect Caesar is being overly ambitious and regard his populist agenda as a potential danger to the political establishment. So Caesar decided to form an alliance. By marrying off his daughter Julia to the influential Pompey, he has secured a key ally in the Senate. And Pompey, the shrewd tactician, recognizes Caesar’s popularity among the common people.

Both men will benefit from this arranged marriage, but there’s another man that stands out within the crowd of the wedding: an older politician named Marcus Licinius Crassus. Caesar brought Crassus, the richest man in Rome, into his confidence for obvious reasons. With Crassus’s financial backing, Caesar’s election to consul is all but guaranteed. Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus form what will become known as the First Triumvirate. Their alliance pays off. Caesar is elected consul in 59 BC, and from this position he passes reforms through the Senate that directly benefit his allies, Pompey and Crassus. The Triumvirate’s growing strength highlights cracks emerging in the foundations of Roman democracy. For centuries, the Republic has operated as a system of checks and balances, preventing individuals from gaining excessive power. But as Rome’s empire continues to expand, the men leading its expansion acquire greater territory and wealth overseas.

And the system designed to contain their power begins to look increasingly fragile. When Caesar’s consulship ends in 58 BC, he assumes the governorship of Cisalpine Gaul, an area just south of the French Alps. Caesar leaves Rome with four legions and travels north to take up his new post. The aristocratic establishment in the Senate, men who resent the rise of powerful generals like Caesar, are relieved to see him go. They hope his departure will mark the beginning of the end for Julius Caesar. But Caesar has no intention of quietly fading into the background. With his legions in tow, he marches north into modern-day France and begins subjugating its inhabitants, the Gauls. What follows is a series of bloody conflicts known as the Gallic Wars. By 52 BC, over 1 million Gauls have been slaughtered. Caesar has extended Rome’s empire as far north as Britain, and he’s accumulated even more wealth and prestige. Back in Rome, a sense of foreboding darkens the mood in the Senate.

The aristocrats there, a group known as the Optimates, fear that once Caesar has conquered Gaul, he will return to Rome with his army and seize power. By now, the Triumvirate with Crassus and Pompey has collapsed.

Crassus died in combat in 54 BC. Later that same year, Julia, Pompey’s wife and Caesar’s daughter, also passed away. So, with the family bond shattered, so too is Pompey and Caesar’s alliance. With Caesar away in Gaul, Pompey realigns himself with the Optimates and joins their efforts to curtail Caesar’s growing power. They present Caesar with an ultimatum: step down as governor of Gaul and disband his army or be removed by force. But Caesar stands his ground; he wishes to remain governor for one more year before running again for consul. Rather than bending to Caesar’s wishes, the Optimates rally around Pompey, entrusting the defense of the Roman Republic to him. Caesar decides to mobilize his troops. In January 49 BC, he begins marching his army through Gaul towards Italy. It’s a power play, a show of strength, aimed at convincing the Senate to accept his terms. But the Senate does not acquiesce.

No diplomatic solution can be found, and by January 10th, Caesar and his army reach the Rubicon River, which separates Italy from Gaul. Here, Caesar orders his men to halt. By crossing the Rubicon, Caesar will be invading Italy and declaring war on the Republic. But if he backs down, he will be hounded by the Senate and stripped of political office. The gravity of the decision weighs heavily on Caesar’s shoulders. And as the moon rises over the Rubicon, there’s still no knowing which course of action he will ultimately take. It’s January 10, 49 BC. A cold, clear night on the banks of the Rubicon. Julius Caesar stares out into the silvery moonlight and watches as it glimmers on the surface of the narrow river. Behind him, 4,000 soldiers anxiously await orders, their breath rising from their helmets in clouds of freezing mists.

Caesar understands the severity of the act he is considering. If he crosses this river, the future of Rome will not be decided on the Senate floor, but on the battlefield. It’s not clear what ultimately tipped Caesar’s deliberations in favor of war. Some claim he was visited by a supernatural apparition who urged him to cross the river. Others claim Caesar was simply consumed with ambition. Whatever the case, at some point before midnight, Caesar marches his army across the Rubicon, turning to an aide as he does so and uttering the now famous phrase, “The die is cast.” Caesar and his army capture every city they pass on their way to Rome. When news reaches Pompey of the invasion, he declares a state of civil war and orders all senators to follow him in evacuating the city. Pompey has not yet been able to muster a force to match Caesar’s, so he retreats to Greece to assemble an army there. Before long, Caesar has taken Rome itself, leaving one of his generals in command of the city.

Caesar sets out for the western province of Spain. There he lays siege to towns and cities. And by the end of the year, Spain too has been conquered. With Spain and Italy now under Caesar’s control, the rogue general sets his sights on Greece and Pompey. Caesar’s fleet sails across the Adriatic Sea. Where they engage in naval skirmishes with Pompey’s ships. Eventually, Caesar is able to land his army on the coast of Greece. There they march inland. The decisive battle comes in August of 48 BC. On a blazingly hot day, the two sides clash on the dusty plain of Pharsalus in central Greece. The odds are stacked against Caesar. Pompey’s 36,000 legionnaires far outnumber Caesar’s force of 22,000. But Caesar has an edge. His soldiers are hardened by years of combat.

Gaul, Spain, and Italy have all fallen beneath the blade of Caesar’s legions. His men possess something that manpower alone cannot: confidence. During the battle, Pompey attempts a flanking maneuver, but it fails, exposing his army to a counteroffensive. Caesar capitalizes on the opportunity and his men quickly overpower Pompey’s infantry. By nightfall, the battle is over and once again Caesar has emerged victorious. A defeated Pompey flees with his remaining ships to Egypt. Weeks later, Pompey lands at the port of Pelusium on the banks of the Nile River. There he hopes to throw himself on the mercy of King Ptolemy of Egypt. But Ptolemy can see which way the wind is blowing. Wishing to remain in Caesar’s favor, Ptolemy sends officers to Pompey’s ship. They climb aboard and in front of the general’s weeping wife and child, murder Pompey. When Caesar lands in Egypt three days later, Ptolemy sends him Pompey’s head as a gesture of respect.

The sight does not please Caesar, who weeps for his great rival and former ally. In the end, Caesar will not leave Egypt until the middle of 47 BC. During that time, he becomes embroiled in a struggle between King Ptolemy and Ptolemy’s sister Cleopatra, who believes herself to be the rightful queen of Egypt. But it’s not politics that keeps Caesar in Egypt, it’s love. He and the beautiful Cleopatra begin a romantic relationship in which Caesar helps her depose her brother and establish herself as Egypt’s ruler. Ruler. But while Caesar is plotting in the royal courts of Egypt, Pompey’s army is steadily regrouping. Now under the command of Caesar’s long-standing enemies, the Senator Cato and the General Scipio. Both of these men were part of the original group of Optimates who opposed Caesar. In 46 BC, Caesar’s legions meet Cato and Scipio’s massive army at Thapsus in modern-day Tunisia. But despite facing an army comprising 12 legions, 15,000 cavalrymen and 60 mounted war elephants, Caesar again is the victor.

Scipio and Cato take their own lives. In the wake of their defeat, other Optimates, like Cicero, surrender to Caesar and pledge their support. By 45 BC, Caesar is back in Rome. With the entirety of the empire now under his command, and with all his greatest rivals vanquished, Caesar is declared dictator, a position in ancient Rome reserved for times of crisis, which invests its holder with supreme authority. But soon word reaches Caesar that Pompey’s sons have mounted a rebellion in Spain. So the newly appointed dictator assembles a fleet and sails west. After the death of Pompey and the defeat of Cato and Scipio, Caesar thought the last of his enemies were dead. He has discovered that he was mistaken. But as he stands at the prow of his westbound ship, Caesar is determined that by the time he returns from Spain, all his enemies, every one of them, will be vanquished.

It’s March 17, 45 BC. The Battle of Munda is underway in southern Spain. Julius Caesar and his legions are heavily outnumbered. But after hours of a stalemate, a tactical error gives Caesar the upper hand. By reinforcing their left flank, the Pompeian forces severely weaken their right flank. Caesar spots. This sends more legions to attack on the right, and they soon overwhelm the enemy. Victorious yet yet again, Caesar will soon return to Rome, now secure in the knowledge that the last of his opponents are destroyed. He will be named Rome’s first dictator for life and will begin introducing a series of reforms designed to entrench his authority. But he will not succeed.

On March 15, 44 BC, a group of senators who have grown wary or perhaps jealous of his power will find Caesar in a small, small moment of weakness and assassinate him. The Roman Republic had stood as one of the world’s earliest prominent and vital democracies. But with Caesar’s appointment as dictator, the Roman Republic was replaced with the Roman Empire, a system of hereditary rulers and not elected officials. One that would grow increasingly autocratic and corrupt. And it all started with the fateful decision to cross the Rubicon on January 10, 49 BC. Next on History Daily. January 11, 1794. A Georgia man becomes the first United States marshal killed in the line of duty.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily. Hosted, edited and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham. Audio editing by Molly Bond. Music and sound design by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written and researched by Joe Viner. Executive producers are Steven Walters for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser. It’s July 14, 1789 in France. A young man rushes through the back streets of Paris. It’s early morning, but it feels as if the city has barely slept. There’s an edge to the summer air, a quiver of anger and violence in the breeze, so much so that the young man can almost taste it. And it’s exhilarating. As he emerges onto a wider avenue, a crowd of protesters surges past. Down the street. There are ordinary people just like him.

Tradesmen and shopkeepers, cooks and butchers. Some are armed, carrying swords or clubs, others with muskets. Drummers thump out the beat of a song as the marchers call on the people of Paris to join them, to rise up to fight for liberty. Eagerly, the young man falls in with the marchers and their song. He’s joined by throngs of people who pour out of every side street and building. There is no commander, no explicit orders are given, but everyone in the crowd knows where they are going. Ahead of them, looming over the district, is the Bastille. This medieval prison has stood in Paris for centuries, a symbol of the authority of the all powerful French king. But the young man and the other revolutionaries in the crowd have come to tear that symbol down, to send a message to the king and the rest of the country. Change is coming in France. By the end of the day, this crowd will break down the gates, seize control of the Bastille and parade the decapitated head of the prison governor through the streets. This event, known as the storming of the Bastille, signals the beginning of the French Revolution.

But what starts on the streets of Paris will end three and a half years later, on January 21, 1793, with the fall of the French monarchy and the execution of King Louis XVI. From Noiser and Airship. I’m Lindsey Graham and this is History Daily. History is made every day on this podcast. Every day, we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world. Today is January 21st, the execution of Louis XVI. It’s May 5th, 1789, four years before Louis XVI’s execution. At the spectacular royal palace in Versailles just outside Paris, the king has called a general assembly of various leaders in France.

Clergymen, nobility, even commoners. Hundreds of delegates from all over the country have journeyed to Versailles for this extremely rare meeting. The last time a French king called an assembly like this was 175 years ago. But these are desperate times for Louis XVI. As a young boy, Louis had little expectation of becoming king. His grandfather was the king of France. His father was the heir to the crown. But Louis had an older brother who was next in line. After that, but a series of tragedies changed Louis’s fortunes. After his older brother and father both died of tuberculosis, Louis suddenly found himself next in line to the throne. And when Louis’s grandfather died in 1774, the shy and quiet 19-year-old became King of France. At the time, the country was an absolute monarchy, with the king wielding supreme power. But Louis XVI came to the throne at a perilous moment. France was deeply in debt and resentment towards the monarchy was on the rise. The precarious situation would have challenged even the most brilliant of leaders.

And Louis is intelligent but indecisive, eager to be loved by the people, but lacking the ability to charm or persuade. By 1789, the king has alienated most of the country. Armed protests are rampant and the financial woes that have gripped the French government have grown unsustainable. In a bid to pass desperately needed financial reforms and bring the country together, Louis called this rare meeting of delegates from the cross-section of French society: the clergy, nobility, and commoners. In an elaborate barrel-vaulted hall built specially for the occasion, the General Assembly watches as Louis XVI and his family enter the chamber dressed in magnificent robes studded with diamonds and gold. From beneath a majestic canopy, Louis addresses the delegates. He calls himself a peaceful king and the people’s greatest friend, but he doesn’t act like it. Without hearing their input, he urges the assembly to acquiesce to his demand for new taxes. But the delegates, especially those representing the common people of France, want nothing of it.

The assembly soon descends into bickering and shouting. The clergy and nobility will block any concessions to the commoners, and the king makes no progress. So on June 17, 1789, the delegates elected to represent the commoners abandoned the Assembly. Sick of being sidelined and tired of paying taxes without any say in government, these commoners announce that they are forming a new assembly, a National Assembly, and claiming supreme power in France for themselves. One month later, on July 14, 1789, there’s chaos in the streets of Paris. The protests began two days ago. In the immediate aftermath of the failed General Assembly, Louis XVI submitted to the commoners’ demands and recognized the new National Assembly. But then he changed his tune. Under the influence of his wife, Marie Antoinette, and his more conservative advisors, he removed his finance minister, who was seen as sympathetic to the people’s demands. Soon, rumors began to swirl that the king was mobilizing foreign mercenaries to crush the commoners’ rebellion against his rule.

In response, the people of Paris formed militias and scrambled to arm themselves. They found plenty of guns, but little of the gunpowder they need to fire them. Soon. Word gets around that there are 250 barrels of gunpowder being held at the Bastille. So on the morning of July 14, a mob of revolutionaries gather outside the ancient prison. The 100 troops guarding the Bastille are severely outnumbered. The mob sends in representatives who demand the prison governor release the barrels of gunpowder and any other weapons they might have. But as negotiations continue, the mob grows impatient. They break into an outer courtyard of the prison, and in the confusion that follows, gunshots ring out. A chaotic battle ensues.

The walls of the Bastille are high and thick, but the prison governor knows he doesn’t have the men or supplies to hold out long. When the mob commandeers two artillery guns and threatens to blow the gates down, the governor surrenders. The mob floods into the Bastille. They secure the gunpowder, but more importantly, they achieve a symbolic victory. By taking this ancient fortification. They have shown all of France that the days of royal authority in Paris are over. The next morning, at his palace in Versailles, Louis XVI will learn of the violent storming of the Bastille. The king will ask an advisor, is it a revolt? And his advisor will reply, no, Sire, it’s not a revolt. It’s a revolution. It’s nearly midnight on June 20, 1791, 18 months before the execution of Louis XVI.

On the banks of the River Seine in Paris, a man hurries furtively through the corridors of a royal palace. Wearing a plain coat and hat, he looks out of place in such a grand residence. But this man is no stranger to the palace, and he knows exactly where he’s going. Rushing down a flight of stairs and through an unlocked doorway, he heads out into the warm summer night. In the courtyard, a carriage waits. The man clambers in and pulls off his hat. It’s the King of France, Louis XVI. Disguised as a humble servant, he’s sneaking away under the cover of darkness to flee Paris. Since the storming of the Bastille two years earlier, the king’s authority has slipped away. Louis and his family have been effectively held prisoner in a royal palace in the center of Paris. But the king believes the people outside the capital still support him. If he can get out of the city, he is sure he can rally them to his cause. Waiting in the carriage is the queen, Marie Antoinette, and their children, also in disguise. Soon they depart the palace, and as the carriage rattles through the deserted streets of Paris and heads out into the countryside, Louis prays his plan will succeed.

Louis wants to join friendly forces, loyal to him. Positioned over 200 miles away near the border with the North Netherlands. And after driving through the night and all the following day, Louis’s carriage finally approaches the town of Varennes, just 30 miles from the safety of their rendezvous. Exhausted from the journey, Louis and his family are fast asleep when suddenly the carriage jolts. Louis’s eyes dart open, and a voice outside cries to stop. The king peers out to find a gun barrel thrust in his face. The carriage is surrounded. A postmaster from the last town where they stopped recognized the king and his family and rode ahead to Varennes to raise the alarm. Soon, revolutionary guards arrive to take the despondent king and his family back to Paris. Louis failed. Escape destroys what remains of his credibility, and it hardens people’s opinion against the monarchy. In the wake of his return to Paris, Louis realizes that he has only one hope left of crushing the rebellion and restoring his former glory. An invasion by a foreign power.

It’s August 10, 1792, more than a year since Louis XVI tried to flee Paris. In the royal residence in the heart of the city, Louis XVI is a prisoner in his own home. Suspicious revolutionary guards watch his every move. Even if he could, the miserable king wouldn’t dare venture beyond the palace gardens. From the windows of his apartment, Louis watches as Paris grows more hostile to him with each passing day. The king accepted a new French constitution last September. It left the monarchy in place, but it gave the power to govern to the elected National Assembly. The king, now little more than a figurehead, feigned support for the new government. But secretly and with his wife’s encouragement, he plotted to undermine it. He encouraged the assembly to declare war on Austria, hoping a disastrous defeat for France would topple the new government and return him to power. Louis had plenty of support for his plan, mainly from the other kings and queens of Europe, who feared popular dissent might spread to their own territories.

Hoping to strengthen Louis’s position in France, the commander of the Austrian forces declared to his new French enemies that if any harm befell the king or his family, he would raze Paris to the ground. But the threat backfired. It enraged the people of Paris. Many of them came to believe the king was conspiring with the Austrians against France. And so they took to the streets in protest. And today, on August 10, 1792, from the windows of the palace, Louis watches as a mob gathers outside his gates. His residence is defended by more than 3,000 mercenaries and government troops. But at the sight of the angry crowd, the king’s nerves fray. Before the first shot is fired. Louis and his family abandon the palace and seek refuge elsewhere in the city. When the troops guarding the king realize he’s run away, their discipline crumbles. The mob presses forward and overpowers them. Hundreds will die in the melee. Louis XVI survives, but his reign as a figurehead is now over.

Backed by the Paris mob, a new, even more extreme revolutionary government will seize power in France. And soon they will declare the country a republic and put Louis XVI on trial for treason. It’s January 21, 1793. Thousands of armed men line the pavement as a military procession makes its way through the streets of Paris. At the front, drummers march and rap their instruments in time, and behind them, a troop of cavalrymen flank a carriage as it rattles over the cobblestone streets. Inside sits a priest, several armed guards, and Louis XVI, the deposed king. Louis recites psalms from a prayer book, but his thoughts are consumed by the fate that awaits him at the end of this carriage ride. Four days ago, the country’s new National Convention convicted Louis of treason and sentenced him to death.

Today, the king’s carriage makes the long journey from the fortress where he was held prisoner to the Grand Square, where he will die. At Place de la Revolution or Revolution Square, 3 guards usher Louis out of the carriage. They start to undress him, but Louis resists. He insists on removing his coat and necktie himself once he’s finished. The guards lead Louis through the crowd of soldiers to the center of the square, where a wooden scaffold awaits. Louis climbs the steps to the top. He looks over the square at the massed ranks of soldiers. Their guns and bayonets glint in the morning light, transforming the square into a shimmering field of metal. Louis appeals to the crowd, saying loudly, I die innocent of all crimes laid to my charge. I pardon those who have occasioned my death, and I pray to God that the blood you are going to shed may never be visited on France. But few beyond those nearest to the king hear the words. The crowd is impatient and jeering as the executioners grab hold of Louis and manhandle him onto the guillotine’s bench.

They thrust him head first into position and lock his neck into place. Louis hears a scaffold creak as the men move away. He stares down and sees a basket below waiting for his head.

The king closes his eyes and tries to control the surge of panic that grips him. Then the crowd falls silent. There’s a flash of dropping metal and a spurt of blood as the king’s head drops heavily. Into the basket. Louis XVI is dead, but the king won’t be the last to die on the guillotine in the French Revolution. Nine months later, his wife Marie Antoinette will also be publicly executed. And soon the revolution will turn on itself, descending into factional, chaotic violence. By the end of the discord a decade later, thousands of people will have shared Louis XVI’s fate. In the century that follows, the country will be ruled again by kings and then by presidents and emperors. Eventually, however, it will re-emerge once more as a republic. The ideals of the revolution are stained with blood, but they endure. And the age of the absolute monarch, which came to an end on January 21, 1793 with the execution of King Louis XVI, will never return.

Next on History Daily January 24, 1536. King Henry VIII is badly injured in a jousting accident, turning the once athletic and wise king into a paranoid, overweight tyrant. From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily. Hosted, edited and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham. Audio editing by Molly Bach. Music and sound design by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written and researched by William Simpson. Executive producers are Steven Walters for Airship, Pascal Hughes for Noiser.